#keeps rejecting you without even getting to the interview rounds it just.. it keeps hurting

[slattlicker]

can you write something where schlatt is extra gentle with the reader? hurt/comfort perhaps? you could write literally anything and I’d love it so do whatever you want!!!!

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * no sender to return to ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: you get rejected from something you poured your heart into. you go quiet. schlatt doesn’t. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: for the kind soul who asked for a hurt/comfort chef’s choice ��� thank you for trusting me with your heart ♡

warning: heavy feelings, job rejection, self-worth spiral

enjoy! (｡•́︿•̀｡)♡

✧✧✧

✧ y/n's pov ✧

you didn’t leave angry.

you didn’t leave loud.

you just left.

the email had landed like a gut punch halfway through your shift—subject: application status update. after three interviews and months of prep. after thank-you notes, mock calls, and one stupid linkedin post about “exciting possibilities.”

it wasn’t just rejection. it was dismissal. a cold, copy-pasted “we’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.”

so you drove. for hours. parked near some off-ramp diner. didn’t answer your phone. didn’t check your texts. just curled up in the backseat and let the night close over you.

you come home two days later. keys shaking in your hand.

the house is dim. quiet.

you step inside, and everything hits at once. the warmth. the smell of your favorite candle—burned down low. the blanket you always use, folded neatly on the armrest. the faint, lingering scent of something cooked and left out too long.

you don’t even get your shoes off before your throat tightens again.

and then—

✧ schlatt's pov ✧

he hears the door.

it clicks open soft, hesitant. like she’s not sure if it’s still her place.

schlatt’s up before he can think, socks skidding on the hardwood as he rounds the corner. he’d been on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling old messages. reading and re-reading. again.

he’d stopped checking the time sometime around hour thirty-six. the last text he sent was a simple “please let me know you’re okay.”

no reply.

he didn’t sleep much after that.

the dishes had piled up. he hadn’t turned on any lights, just lit the candles she liked and sat by the door some nights, hoping he’d hear her keys. wondering if maybe he should’ve driven out. if she even wanted him to.

what hurt wasn’t the silence. it was knowing she was hurting somewhere—alone—and choosing not to let him in.

his heart drops when he sees her in the doorway.

hair messy. shoulders tense. face blotchy like she tried not to cry and failed halfway through.

she looks like hell. his chest aches just looking at her.

he doesn’t speak at first. just stares. takes it in.

she’s back.

she’s breathing.

she’s—

“schlatt,” she starts, voice raw.

he walks over fast.

not waiting. not gentle.

she gets two steps inside before he pulls her into him, arms wrapping tight, hand cradling the back of her head like it might keep her from vanishing again. she sinks into it without hesitation, knees nearly giving out.

he doesn’t let her fall.

he couldn’t let her fall. not after two days of pacing the damn kitchen. not after re-listening to her last voicemail until the battery on his phone gave out.

“i didn’t get it,” she breathes. “i tried so hard—”

“i know, baby.”

her fingers twist into his hoodie. her whole body shakes.

“i wanted it so bad.”

“i know you did.” his jaw’s tight. he clenches it so he doesn’t say something worse.

let him meet the hiring manager. let him talk to whoever the hell thought she wasn’t good enough. just five minutes.

she makes a sound—choked, wounded—and tries to bury it in his chest.

“don’t,” he says quietly. “don’t hide. i wanna hear it.”

she sobs harder.

“i stayed up all night practicing—"

“i know.”

“i wore the suit—the one you liked—”

“i remember.” he’d taken a picture. told her she looked like she ran the world. she did. his world, at least.

“i don’t know what i did wrong—”

“you didn’t do anything wrong.”

and it kills him that she can’t see that. it kills him.

he lowers with her to the floor, just like that, holding her through the weight of it.

they end up on their knees, her folded into him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. his hand rubs up and down her back, slow and steady, like it’ll hold her together if he just keeps going.

“you’re allowed to fall apart,” he murmurs. “but don’t you dare think this means you weren’t enough.”

she trembles in his arms. her breath stutters, then catches on a sob. her hands fist in his hoodie again.

“i really thought i had it,” she whispers.

“i know.”

his voice is barely a breath now. “me too.”

and that was the worst part.

he really thought this was the one.

he’d watched her prep, rehearse, sweat over every detail. she’d practiced in the mirror. made a powerpoint for a phone interview. and now she’s curled up like she failed something bigger than a job.

he strokes her back, presses his cheek into her hair.

they stay like that on the tile, wrapped around each other like a lifeline.

and when she finally starts to quiet—hiccups softening, hands going limp—he pulls back just enough to see her face.

her lashes are wet. her lips trembling. she looks so fucking small.

he hates this.

schlatt reaches up and wipes her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“you come home next time,” he says. “you hear me?”

she nods.

“i don’t care if you’re happy, pissed, wrecked—i want you here. with me.”

“…okay.”

his thumb brushes under her eye. “you don’t go off punishing yourself for something that isn't your fault.”

“i wasn’t trying to—”

“i know,” he says. “but i missed you so bad i thought i was gonna lose it.”

her lip wobbles again.

he leans in and kisses her forehead. slow. steady. he hates seeing her cry like this—but he’d rather be here for it than locked out again.

then, quieter:

“c’mon, baby. let’s get off the damn floor.”

✧ y/n's pov ✧

you sit on the couch in clean sweats, a glass of water in your hands.

the house is quieter now. warm again. schlatt had lit a candle while you were changing—one of the ones you save for good days. it smells like orange and something herbal. familiar.

he’s in the kitchen now, warming up leftovers. you should be helping. you’re not. your laptop’s open on your knees instead.

subject: feedback request

you hover over the text box, then erase it. type something else.

subject: you didn’t even spell my name right.

that’s better.

you start typing. not because you’re going to send it. just because the words are sitting too heavy in your chest.

i spent four months preparing for this. i made a spreadsheet of questions and talking points. i paid for a resume review. i even updated my damn linkedin banner.

you told me i was a “great candidate.” you smiled at me during the final interview. i practiced my handshake. i wore a blazer even though it was 91 degrees that day.

and all i got was a form rejection. not even a line about keeping me in mind.

my name is [y/n]. i thought maybe i’d at least earned that.

footsteps pad up behind you. schlatt appears at the arm of the couch with two bowls of reheated pasta and a skeptical brow.

“you writing an email to your ex or somethin’?”

you snort. “worse.”

he lowers the food onto the coffee table, then slides in beside you. one arm goes around your shoulder automatically. you don’t lean in. not yet.

he reads the screen. out loud.

“you didn’t even spell my name right.”

“i made a spreadsheet. i updated my linkedin banner.”

“it was 91 degrees.”

he starts laughing. “jesus. you’re feral.”

“i’m...valid.”

“you’re so valid,” he says, grinning as he steals the laptop from your lap. “but you need a punchier sign-off.”

“give it back—”

“no no, listen.” he types fast.

i would’ve given everything to this job. i hope your coffee’s always cold.

you sputter. “schlatt.”

“too far?”

“not far enough.”

you grab the laptop and add:

i hope your slack notifications never clear. i hope your lunch is always stolen from the office fridge. i hope someone uses comic sans in the team deck and you can’t change it.

he leans in, laughing into your neck. “see? this is healthy. this is healing.”

you both keep going—more dramatic, more ridiculous. it’s not about being petty anymore. it’s about getting the words out. together.

i hope you get stuck in a zoom room with craig from finance. i hope you forget to attach the file every time. i hope your new hire brings tuna to lunch.

by the time you’re both breathless, your cheeks ache from smiling.

schlatt points at the screen. “you gotta send that.”

“no!”

“why not?”

“because it’s embarrassing.”

“exactly. what are they gonna do, reject you again?”

you hesitate.

he raises his brows.

your hand hovers over the trackpad.

his hand comes up over yours.

click.

a little whoosh sound.

you freeze.

he freezes.

then:

“oh my god,” you breathe. “you sent it.”

he bursts into laughter, full-bodied and shaking. “i barely touched it! you clicked! that was you!”

your jaw drops. “this is your fault!”

“no no no—”

you lunge for him, shoving at his shoulder, half-laughing, half-horrified. he flops backward, hands raised in mock surrender, grinning like an idiot.

“you absolute menace—”

“you needed this,” he says, tugging you down with him until you’re lying across his chest, laptop forgotten somewhere on the carpet.

you groan. “i hate you.”

“you love me.”

“you’re the worst.”

he kisses your forehead. “you’re not gonna get fired for sending a passive-aggressive breakup letter to a hiring manager, babe. worst case, they put it on reddit.”

“oh my god—”

“but best case,” he murmurs, arms wrapping around you slow, “you finally stop acting like they were the prize.”

you huff, pressing your face into his chest. “that’s corny.”

“yeah, well, you started it.”

he lets you go just enough to reach for the pasta, balancing it carefully between you both.

you sit like that for a bit—half on top of him, sharing one bowl, legs tangled over the couch cushions, the laptop buzzing a few inches away.

eventually, you glance over at it.

“…what if they respond?”

he shrugs. “then they respond.”

“and if i have to see them again?”

“wear something expensive.”

you laugh once, sharp through your nose. “you’re a menace.”

“and you’re unemployed,” he says, popping a piece of pasta in his mouth. “you got time to be petty.”

[hockeylvr59]

I don’t know if you remember writing this but would you consider doing a part 2 to the blurb you wrote about Sidney having a son and not wanting to be in the picture and he comes back 15 years later?

So I’ve been sitting on this message forever and I wasn’t sure that a second part was ever in the plans but uh...here you go. I’m not sure I love the ending on this but we’re going with it. (1,703 words)

~~~~~

It had started with a favor. One that you hated asking for. One that you knew was likely to come with strings attached. One that was solely for the sake of your son. 

You remember sitting there with the number entered into your phone waiting for you to press the green call button for more than ten minutes. You remember the anxious feeling deep in the pit of your stomach as the phone rang. You remember hearing your name in that familiar deep dulcet tone. 

“Hi, Sidney.” You’d breathed, your throat going tight already. 

“I didn’t think you were going to call…” He trailed off. “It’s been...well months since I left you a message.” 

“I...honestly I wasn’t planning on calling.” You admitted. “But I need a favor. Well, Charlie needs a favor.” Before he could say anything you continued, jumping right into it. “You have a personal gym here, don’t you? Charlie...he’s...he’s going crazy not being able to work out with everything in lockdown. Which means I’m going crazy because he’s going crazy and with trying to work from home it’s all just a mess. We’ve made it this far but I don’t think anything is going to open any time soon and he’s already hating being away from the rink this long…” 

Before you’d been able to say anything else Sidney had cut you off. 

“If you’re asking if he can use my private gym to work out the answer is yes.” You remember letting out a sigh of relief but also waiting for the other shoe to drop. When the line remained quiet after that you spoke softly once more. 

“That’s it? Just yes.” You questioned. 

“Just yes Y/N.” Sidney stated. “Did you really think I’d say no?” 

You paused, pursing over your words. “I expected any agreement to come with a condition.” You admitted. You heard Sidney sigh over the line a few times. 

“No condition. Would I like to get the chance to talk to him...yes. But I’m not going to refuse to let him use my unoccupied gym unless he does. I fucked up and I don’t think I’m in any position to be demanding anything just because you’ve asked for a small favor. Goodness knows you have a right to ask way more than this from me given everything.” 

The brutal honesty with which he treated himself was only a bit surprising and you murmured soft thanks on behalf of your son who was going to be so excited to get to use a more proper gym. Not knowing what else to say, you made an excuse to end the call, your heart racing at having spoken with Sidney for the first time since he left. 

A key with a short sheet of information had been left in your mailbox only two days later and while you had expected Sidney to keep his word, you hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Charlie had been thrilled when you told him and for at least an hour each day from that day forward you took your son over to Sidney’s gym allowing him to start training again even if he couldn’t go full throttle since mom could only do so much as a spotter. 

Having spent months watching your teenage son struggle through quarantine, it was incredible watching him come back to life right in front of your eyes. At the same time, watching him like this brought all of the Sidney out in him and you fought back how hard it was seeing your son take more and more after his father. 

___

Charlie had always had a large amount of respect for his father, at least as a player. And lately, it seemed like his respect for him as a person was growing. 

All Charlie’s life it wasn’t articles about Sidney Crosby on ice that caught your son’s attention, it was the ones about how he treats people off-ice. Many times you’d discussed the hurt feelings your son maintained knowing his father continued to do so many things for other people while being completely out of the picture with his own son. You couldn’t pretend you knew how it felt for your son to see Sidney running hockey camps and playing with his Little Penguins or spending time with Alex Letang and Nikita Malkin. But you knew that it was hard for him. 

But since Charlie had started working out in Sid’s gym, using Sid’s artificial ice, you could see some of your son’s hardened walls start to soften because for the first time his dad had done something for him and him alone. 

So when Charlie came into your room around 10:30 pm on August 7th, you knew there was something important on his mind before he even opened his mouth. 

“Can we…can we call him?” Charlie had asked. “I want to talk to him.” Charlie didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, you were well aware. And at first, your protective instincts took over. The Penguins had just been eliminated from the play-in round of playoffs and it was Sidney’s 33rd birthday. The odds were very likely that Sidney would not be in a good mood at all and you didn’t want your son being subjected to the brunt of his frustrations. 

Eventually, though, those light brown eyes wore you down. 

“We��ll text him.” You agreed. This way if Sidney was in a foul mood he could just ignore it or say so without putting too much pressure on him. 

Feel free to disregard this if you’re not up for it but Charlie would like to call you. 

Chewing on your lip you hugged Charlie close while waiting to see if you’d get any response. You knew that he would understand if Sidney didn’t want to talk after that kind of loss but at the same time you knew it would hurt a little too, facing any kind of rejection from his dad. 

After just a few minutes your phone lit up with a FaceTime request and you took a deep breath before answering it, Sidney’s tired face appearing on screen.

“Wow...someone is tech-savvy.” You murmured in greeting having not expected a FaceTime at all. You ignored the way you could tell his eyes were raking over you and instead murmured that you were going to let the two of them talk, passing the phone over to Charlie. For a moment you thought you heard Sidney’s breath catch as you left the room motioning that you would just be downstairs. 

“So I’m not sure it’s been a Happy Birthday so far…” You heard Charlie speak as you moved to give them some privacy. Settling onto the living room couch with a pint of ice cream, you waited as patiently as you could. 

It was nearly midnight when Charlie came downstairs with your phone in his hand, flopping onto the couch next to you after kissing your head. 

“Thanks mom.” He whispered and you nodded snuggling close for a few minutes before sending him up to bed. You didn’t feel the need to ask about what they had talked about, Charlie would share in time if he wanted to. It made you a little uneasy but that wasn’t important. 

As you slipped into bed, your phone buzzed with three small words. 

Thank you Y/N. 

____

After that first conversation, Charlie called Sidney every other week and the two of them talked for at least half an hour. 

Sidney never tried to push boundaries though. He never tried to buy his way into Charlie’s life, he never demanded more than either you or Charlie were willing to give. But at the same time, you knew that he was now playing a role in your son’s life that Charlie had needed for a long time. Even if it wasn’t quite a father yet, it was certainly as a mentor and because of that Charlie thrived even more in the way he trained and the way he interacted with those around him. 

For so long you had pushed Sidney out of your life but now he was slowly oozing back into it. 

Even despite all of this, you were surprised when you walked into the living room to find Charlie rewinding a national broadcast hockey game. Except he wasn’t rewatching a play, no, he was rewinding an intermission interview segment with Sidney himself. You could see the tears in his eyes and as he pressed play you immediately understood why. 

“So 1000 games. Three Stanley Cups, two Conn Smythe trophies, Hart’s, Art Ross’s, Leadership Awards, MVP awards...and that’s just your NHL achievements. You’ve done pretty much everything a player could dream of doing. Is there anything you would change about it all?” The interviewer asked. 

Sidney paused for a moment as if he was thinking about all of those things. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess there is definitely something I would change looking back if I could.” He admitted, his eyes going soft and a bit watery on camera. The interviewer just gave him a look pressing for more information and Sidney chewed on his lip before speaking. “I guess if there was one thing I could change, it would be having a family by my side. Having my son by my side. I see Geno and Kris with their kids sharing all of these experiences and I could have had that all along if I wasn’t so scared. If I could change one thing, it would be that.” 

The interview cuts out then, a broadcaster saying that the full interview will air on the channel’s youtube page after Crosby plays game 1000 with the Pittsburgh Penguins. Charlie quickly rewinds playing the segment for a third time before he realizes you’re there and he looks up at you crying steadily. 

Moving around the couch you pull Charlie into your arms hugging him tightly and letting him cry. You couldn’t imagine what Charlie was feeling, hell you barely knew how you were feeling. 

For the first time in 15 years, Sidney had publicly acknowledged his son’s existence and that acknowledgment had the potential to change everything.

[maybe-your-left]

BITCH I AM DEMANDING A FLUFFY PART TWO TO KYLO FORGETTING OUR DATE OKAY?!

I WANT SWEET AND NASTY MAKEUP SEX

HAHAHHA YESSSSS. here is part one of Kylo forgetting our anniversary.

“Hey.”

You sighed into the phone, slumped on the cool leather couch. The TV blaring before you, but you didn’t listen to what was on. It had been two weeks since you kicked Kylo out, the only communication shared were clipped texts and stale ‘Hi’s’ and ‘Byes’ when he needed to pick up clean clothes.

“Hi.”

Kylo took in a slow breath, you could practically feel the air hit your face. So close, yet so far, “Are you gonna be home today?”

“Yup.”

“Cool, I’ll be there at 12 during lunch. I have some shit to grab.”

You bit back sniffling, “Okay,” your voice cracked. “I’ll be here.”

———

You scrolled through your emails, waiting at the kitchen counter for him to show up. You'd applied for some jobs a few days ago if this was really the end of you two. You needed a job, there was no way you could afford living in the penthouse and at some point, Kylo would want it back.

It was in his name anyway, the only thing you really owned without his help was your laptop.

Fingers crossed you'd find something, you haven't worked in almost five years. You didn't need to with Kylo, and he urged you to not work. He wanted to take care of you, provide for you, help you in any way he could. But now, you were left high and dry, not even a single bank account in your name.

You swallowed back another round of tears, no.

No more tears, you'd get through this. You had family who would help, friends that supported you and wanted you to be happy. Even his mom, not that you'd stoop that low, was willing to help you.

It would be better to just cut all ties to him since there was a slim chance he would want to be back together.

You still weren't sure, you missed him. Terribly, barely sleeping because his presence was gone. Jumping towards your phone whenever it rang, hoping it was him on the other side calling to make it up to you.

But the man was stubborn, angry that you kicked him out.

Claiming that his accusations were valid, which wounded you further.

A light knock on the door drew you away from your wallowing, you took a shaky breath before whispering a faint, "it's open."

Kylo walked in slowly, dressed in his work clothes. A button-up, white, with his suit jacket and tight dress pants. His hair was getting longer, the harsh lighting of the kitchen showed a sheen of grease coating it.

And the bags, the bags under his eyes were darker than normal.

A part of you was smug over his appearance.

But the rest of you ached, fighting against your baser instinct to run towards him. So he could take you in his arms while you bathed him in kisses, mourning over the time spent apart.

"Hello," he nodded stiffly towards you. Not making eye contact as he shut the door. Kylo fiddled with the strap on his shoulder, his duffel bag hanging limp. Empty, ready to stuff more things inside before he ran away to whatever place he was staying.

"Hey," you croaked, eyes flitting back to your laptop. Biting your lip as you read through rejection after rejection, no one wanted you. The gaps in your resume were too long, your diploma meant nothing since you had zero experience.

Kylo's shoes scuffed the floor, sniffing loudly before he looked at you.

"I was going to grab some more things," he glanced towards the staircase, "All my stuff is at the dry cleaners right now, I've worn these pants two days in a row."

"That sucks."

He hummed, "Okay," backing away from you slowly. You watched him walk towards the stairs, back tense and straight. His hands were tucked into his pockets, something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

You used to make him comfortable.

Now you just agitated him, even though it wasn't your fault you two were in this mess.

You stayed quiet as he rummaged around upstairs. Doors opening and closing, drawers slamming shut, you briefly heard swearing but you couldn't make it out. You hadn't thrown his stuff away, keeping everything organized. Right down to the hair products that he had left.

Color-coded and alphabetical by the sink.

His footsteps echoed to a stop, maybe he was considering kicking you out...

"Have you seen my black sweater?"

You stilled, his black sweater... "Nope."

A huff in annoyance, "The one that has the hole in the front, from when it got caught while we were in Niagra? It's not in the closet."

That's because I hid it, you thought. You'd been sleeping in it for the past week, it smelled like him and enveloped you like his arms used to. No way you were giving it back, call it a sacrifice of your relationship.

You listened to his slow descent to the kitchen, duffle now stuffed with clothes. He eyed you suspiciously, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Coming dangerously close to your seat, he angled himself behind you. A little to the left, but enough for him to spy on your computer screen.

"You're applying for jobs?"

You slapped your laptop shut, he didn't need to snoop.

"None of your business, Kylo."

He shrugged, looking up at the ceiling as he replied, "Might be good for you, to get out of the house."

"Mhm."

"You'll want to apply to multiple places," he stepped around you, opening the fridge for a brief glance inside. Spying one of his protein shakes that you hadn't thrown out, wasn't expired yet. Kylo cracked it open and took a small sip, "You won't be able to afford this place with entry-level salaries."

"Yes," you snapped at him, "I know that."

"Just trying to help, (Y/N)."

You climbed off your stool, moving away from him to curl on the couch. Already on the verge of tears, "You aren't helping, you're just being rude."

"Well, it's rude of you to steal my shit when we aren't together anymore."

That made the waterworks start, muffling your sniffles with your fluffy blanket. You tucked yourself away, desperate to disappear. Maybe when you woke up, everything would be back to normal, or you could wake up seven years earlier to avoid ever meeting him. Save yourself from the heartache that was tearing you apart from seam to seam.

You listened to the echo as he walked towards you. Huffing when he saw your shivering form, "I don't know why you're crying. I haven't been staying here for two weeks, we clearly aren't together."

"Whatever, Kylo," you whispered, voice breaking as you took in a wet breath, "Can you just leave?"

"Sure."

------

"I can't afford to stay there mom," you whimpered into the phone, you were stalling in your car. Parked in the garage of the apartment, you had been to an interview. Realizing the pitiful reality of your life, you had already begun to sell your designer clothes. Gucci purses, red bottoms, Tiffany earrings, Cartier bracelets, you name it. Anything that could help you create a bank account was sold off.

"Have you talked to him at all? Kylo wouldn't leave you high and dry, if anything he would pay for you to get an apartment."

"I don't want his help," you hissed.

A pause, "It would be humiliating to ask, I know he's expecting it. After the talk about jobs, he's just been waiting for me to cave and sacrifice my dignity."

"I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt to talk with him, I know you both have been avoiding it after the fight. It could bring you both some closure-or better yet-get you guys back together so I can get some grandbabies."

"Goodbye, mom."

You huffed as you hung up, slamming your head back into your headrest. Maybe you could sell the car, people would pay top dollar for a gold Porsche. But the title was in Kylo's name, birthday present, any money you'd earn would belong to him.

You pulled up your text thread, the last messages sent were from three days ago. He left you on read, you texted him goodnight after a few stale messages about your day and when he could come and move some furniture out. Kylo had gotten an apartment on the upper east side, right by his office. You checked the old Zillow listing, it was huge and ridiculously expensive.

Enough room for him and a new girlfriend, you were certain he was already fucking someone else. With how cruel he was with you, not even trying to make amends. Probably his secretary, she was always a slut. Showing off her tits to him, even when you came to visit. Kylo probably bent her over his desk the day after he left, just because he could.

You swallowed your pride, it was now or never.

Kylo, I think we need to talk.

Send.

Let's see how long it... oh?

What happened, I'm at work right now.

Quick, maybe he got the notification on his laptop.

Could I swing by the office?

Right now?

Yeah.

Typing...

I have a shareholder meeting at 2, make it quick.

You sped towards his work, determined to get there before he changed his mind and banned you from coming. You were shocked he even agreed, maybe he was having a rare good day.

Or forgot that you two were broken up.

After parking, you jogged into the building. No need to say hi to anyone, it was embarrassing enough to be the ex-girlfriend visiting. At least you were dressed up, people wouldn't think you were in the poor house, yet.

You smiled coldly at his secretary, not bothering to tell her what you were here for. Despite her stuttering about him having a meeting at 2, she was totally fucking him. There's no way she wasn't, a man like him can barely go a day without sticking his dick in something.

Whipping open the door, you were met with the uncomfortable silence that blanketed his office. Curtains were drawn, lights on the dimmest setting, the only noises were the door creaking and his fingers typing.

Like he was punishing the words, Kylo was good at breaking keyboards with his aggressive emailing.

You cleared your throat, watching as his eyes briefly flickered towards you before moving back to the screen. Okay, you walked slowly towards his desk. Pulling out a chair as quietly as possible, the leather squeaking when you sat.

Kylo let out a long sigh, leaning away from his screen. "What is it you want to talk about?"

With a harsh swallow, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt. Anything to avoid his penetrating gaze, "I just wanted to talk about, you know."

He blinked, face blank, "Use your words, please. I don't have time to fuck around, I have a business to run."

"I-I-I"

"Spit.it.Out."

"How come you never apologized?"

Silence.

Kylo's jaw clenched and unclenched, leaning back in his chair slowly. Staring directly at you, "This conversation?"

"Yes, I need to know."

"What good is it doing us now?"

"I don't know I just-"

"What are you hoping to gain from this?"

"Kylo-"

He huffed loudly, "I don't have to answer you anymore, we aren't together."

You slammed a fist on his desk, rattling a few pieces he had decorating it. Standing on your wobbling legs, "Listen to me, you can be an asshole all you fucking want but I deserve answers."

Kylo narrowed his eyes, standing slowly before you. His form towering, making you feel even smaller than you already felt. Crawling to his office for closure, and instead, he wanted to argue with you about the necessity of the conversation.

You watched his palms lay flat on the polished wood, crinkling papers he had strewn about.

"If you're here for money, just fucking say it."

"I am not here for-"

Now it was his turn to slam the desk, "Bullshit! You're here to fucking grovel because you don't know how to take care of yourself. Can't even get a second-rate job!"

"You're the one who insisted on taking care of me!"

"So you think it's okay to demand money when we aren't together? Selling off all the shit I bought you to pay the power bills?"

You gaped at him, "I would never."

"Shut up," Kylo spat, leaning further across to be nose to nose, "You forget that I have your email linked to my laptop. I can see every pathetic message about pawning what I worked for. What I provided you, fucking ungrateful."

"How dare you sneak through my email!?"

"It's not sneaking if I have the passwords, darling."

"You can't fucking do that," you pushed away, arms folded while you glanced around the room. All your pictures were gone, more proof that showed he was erasing your existence, "At least I'm not already fucking someone..."

"Excuse me?"

You spoke over your shoulder, "You heard me."

"Are you seriously accusing me of that," Kylo scoffed, "When that's what got us into this mess in the first place?"

You shrugged, "How long have you been fucking her, did you march to her place after I kicked you out?"

"(Y/N)."

"I'm a big girl, I can take it. Just tell me the truth, because there's no way you'd just abandon me if there wasn't someone else."

"(Y/N)."

You spun on your heel, snarling with a finger in his face, "How many women have you replaced me with? Huh? Or is it just your slut of a secretary-"

Kylo flipped his desk, everything crashing to the floor. You screamed as he began to throw items to the walls, tear books off the shelves, kicking his chairs to the ground. Anything he could get his hands on he attempted to tear apart.

"Enough!"

Heavy breaths.

"I'm not fucking anyone else! Are you fucking serious? All I've fucking done is work! Trying to just fucking move on but nooo," he faced you now, cheeks red and puffing. A few tracks of tears streaking towards his jaw, "You-you just have to be right, and have to be the victim of all this when it's both our fucking fault!"

Kylo paced away from you, running his fingers through his hair before crouching down to the floor. Cradling his face in his hands while he took in shaky breaths, "I fucking missed you, so much. It's all I thought about, but every fucking time I came back you ignored me."

"Kylo-"

"No, you fucking iced me out. I could barely speak to you and I wasn't going to do anything over text."

You succumbed to your tears, there was no way to hold them. Choking as you wiped away the floods, "I-I didn't m-mean to, you weren't talking to me Kylo. How was I supposed to r-react?"

Now he was crying, hiccuping in an attempt to steady his breathing and push through it like he always had. But he couldn't stop the tremor in his voice, "You could've told me you loved me or forgave me. Anything would've been better than this."

"Why do I have to be the one to apologize, I'm not the one who forgot our day and manhandled me in the tub! You were drunk, rude, and horrible to me, I deserved an apology."

"I know," he sniffed, "I tried to-the first few times I came back for clothes. But you hid from me."

You nodded slowly, pacing your way towards him. Unsure of how he'd react to you touching him, but you needed to be closer. You shuffled to his side, sliding your back against the gray wall to the floor.

"We've never been good at apologizing."

Kylo sat on the floor, mirroring you against the wall, "At least before, you didn't kick me out. Force me to crash on a couch, you know I don't fit on couches."

You chuckled softly, not wanting to smile at the visual.

"That's why our couch was custom," he laughed too, dull and humorless, "Because I kept sliding off."

"Yup."

Both of you swallowed, throats clicking in unison. Kylo shuffled in a more comfortable position, looking out at the clouded sky that peeked through the shades.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry."

A breath, "I never meant to miss our day, and I thought you were finished with me. I should've just spoken to you instead of drink, but that doesn't mean much now."

You hummed, "Thank you."

"I can write you a check," he sighed, "So you can get another place and still keep whatever's left of your collections."

"You don't-"

"I know I don't."

Kylo wrote you a check for half a million dollars, not looking at you when he ripped it from his checkbook. He mumbled about the bank may be needing to call him to confirm it, just have them call my office number.

Sending you off without another word.

------

Your new apartment was cute, small, perfect for you.

Light and airy, none of the fixtures were black or red. Hues of pink, coral, green, and blue danced around the rooms. Your couch was velvet, just because you wanted it to be. With an abundance of pillows and candles on every surface, you could fit them onto.

Your bed was a four-poster with a dreamy white canopy, soft and cloudlike bedding scrunched up from however you left them. No one was running around frantic to make the bed, or straighten the blinds, or draw the curtains, it was just yours.

The check was cashed with little fuss, you tried not to cry about it. You dropped off the old house keys at Kylos office, along with your car keys, there was no need to keep the Porsche. You weren't living that life anymore, you could buy your own car now! And it would be yours, it was too hard to drive the gift everywhere.

Kylo told you to keep the car when he found the keys, but you ignored his messages. He wouldn’t understand why you wouldn’t keep it, but that was his problem.

You sighed into your couch, looking at the TV nestled next to the bay window. Imagining where you could squish more houseplants… you already had an abundance but it wouldn’t hurt.

Your phone began to vibrate on the coffee table, startling you as you scrambled towards it. Oh, it was Kylo, odd.

“Hey?”

“Hey.”

“Uh,” you stood from the floor, scratching your cheek as you walked. “What’s up?”

He cleared his throat, “I saw you got a place, wanted to drop off a housewarming gift.”

Your face scrunched, balancing the phone between your face and shoulder. Popping a potato chip in your mouth, “Why would you do that?”

A sigh, “Can you just buzz me in? I brought wine…”

“Whatever.”

Kylo came in with a tight smile, dressed in some black joggers and a gray t-shirt. He looked like he just rolled out of bed, not his typical look on a weekday. He held up a brown paper bag, Whole Foods on the label.

"You went to Whole Foods?" you raised a concerned brow.

"Nope," he set the bag on your kitchen table, eying the plants and crystals that littered your living room. A few magazines were strewn around on the surface, "I had my secretary do it."

You glared at him, which he noticed before shaking his head rapidly, "New secretary-not the old one. His name is Brady, he's very nice."

Kylo stood with his hands in his pockets, glancing in every direction as you approached the bag. Humming when you began pulling out the goodies he had, as promised there was a bottle of wine. Your favorite, along with a set of glasses.

A clear purple tinge, almost vintage looking. Some of your favorite fruit, he blushed when you held them up to his eyes. Mumbling how you never had enough of them in the past, and it was their season.

Now you were blushing, finding some red velvet cupcakes. Packaged beautifully, and a small vase in the shape of a kitty. You placed it on the table, looking at it over and over. Biting your lip as you waited for something to happen.

"I like your place," Kylo croaked out, "It's very bright."

You chuckled, "You're just used to your eyes straining from all the red and black decor."

He hummed, walking down your hallway. Glancing indoors that were left open until he made it to your bedroom. You heard him groan when he saw the white sheets and canopy, Kylo whistled for you.

Obediently, you pranced towards him, taken aback when he was sprawled on your mattress. Facedown with his face in your pillow, groaning like he was trying to wake up from a good dream.

"I fucking forgot how good you smelled," he moaned out, looking over at you lazily, "What would I have to do to get you to make out with me in here?"

------

LOL, this was long, but I'll do a part three if you would enjoy the rest of their reunion.

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[janekfan]

Hostile

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30583040

Jon always needed a strong hand.

Ever since he was small and wandering off without his grandmother’s permission only to be escorted back by disgruntled police.

Elias just wanted him to be the best Archivist he could be.

It didn’t stop the sting. Just reinforced how much he had to learn and how awful he was at this job. He was just being...sensitive, right? The others were fine. They didn’t seem to have any issues, certainly not like him. Meanwhile, it seemed no matter what Jon did, Elias browbeat him. Always gently, always politely, until Jon understood how he’d gone wrong and left in a state of distressing confusion. His employer made it so clear that Jon often felt foolish coming away from his office. If he’d just been smarter he would have figured it out on his own without needing his supervisor to explain it to him in terms he could understand.

He passed Tim and Elias chatting amiably in the hall, burying his nose in the stack of papers he was carrying to make himself as small as possible before shuffling past them. They didn’t seem to notice or if they did, made no move to acknowledge him and the last thing he heard when he rounded the corner was Elias chuckling at one of Tim’s bad jokes, the same one he used to tell Jon at least once a month up in Research. It was inane. Nothing to well, to write home about. Certainly nothing that should have piqued Elias’ interest.

Though, Jon supposed, he didn’t know anything about either of them did he?

“Martin.” Cultured, the smooth voice drifted through the office door, worming its way into Jon’s ear and straight into his already hammering heart. He was ashamed that he couldn’t stop himself from creeping to the door and listening closer. “This is fine work. How long have you been working here?”

“Oh! Uh! Um!” Jon rolled his eyes at the stammering, pushing down a spike of what was definitely not jealousy. Elias laughed, light and easy.

“No need to be so anxious. You’ve been an asset to this department. A good fit.”

“Ah! Th’thank you, Elias. Sir! I mean, I mean sir.”

The man’s amusement was so sincere. Jon must’ve been missing something when it came to himself.

“Ms. James, a word if you please.”

“Of course, sir. How can I help?” Jon pressed his back against the wall, the chill of the basement cement seeping into his button down and sending him shuddering.

“I wanted to thank you for your dedication. I realize things have been fraught, for lack of a better term, since the promotion.”

“I trust in the interview process.”

“I’m sure you do.” Jon held his breath. “And I appreciate your willingness to support this endeavor as it continues to grow. Especially where our new Archivist is concerned.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you again, Ms. James.” Heavier footsteps retreated and Sasha’s headed in his direction. Jon nearly ran from her impending approach, taking refuge again in his office with the thought that it should belong to her echoing in empty space between his ears.

“Jonathan.” He tried not to fidget under Elias’ intense scrutiny.

“Yes, Elias?”

“I received a call from the library.”

“I, I assisted with a difficult case a few months ago.”

“I can’t imagine why, but they are asking for your help again.” It was a cutting remark and Jon fought against the flooding mess of emotions. “They know you’re now our Institution’s newly minted Archivist.”

Oh.

OH. Of course! His impatience was mixing him all up and getting him up in arms before Elias finished speaking.

“Do you know what it’s regarding?”

“I can’t recall though you are making fewer mistakes over time. I do think your efforts would be better focused on your work in the archives, don’t you think? Jonathan?”

oh

“Ah, w’well. Yes. If that is what you think I should do.” He could feel his face heating up, no doubt blazing red with an embarrassing blush.

“I didn’t ask for your thoughts only for you to leave it up to me. You need to be decisive, Jonathan.”

“Yes, th’that is. Yes. I will be.”

“And?” Lord was he ever bungling this.

“I will turn down their invitation.” Elias was no longer looking at him but at his desktop screen with a bored expression.

“Don’t worry yourself. I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Th’thank you, sir.”

“No need to have you tangled up in old efforts.”

“Yes, of course.” Jon shifted from foot to foot desperately trying to keep his hands still, to be professional until Elias glanced back at him in confusion.

“You can go, Jonathan. I certainly don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

It was rare that Jon left his office since taking, stealing, the position of Archivist and the uncomfortable silence that settled over the breakroom upon his arrival was damning.

“Need something, boss?” Tim raised an eyebrow, hiding a frown behind his cup. Jon felt whatever bravery he’d scraped up in the past several hours disappear.

“I, um. I just, Elias?”

“What about him?” Sasha folded her hands, prim and polite as ever since the announcement was made.

“Well, you. You’ve known m’me a while, years really, and. And I think, does, does he--?”

“Spit it out, man.” He flinched at Tim’s bored tone. Tired of him. He shouldn’t have come here.

“He, the way he speaks with me?” Lord, this sounds ridiculous. He was ridiculous, just a sensitive mess. He always did this, turned molehills into mountains. Read into situations and only came out the other side wrong.

“Elias isn’t like that, weird maybe.” Tim sounded so sure, flippant and nonchalant. “He’s been nothing but supportive since our transfer. You’re misinterpreting him or something. You do that.” Jon’s stomach dropped, tears welling up in his eyes as everything he thought about himself was confirmed.

“No, it. It feels like more than that. It. Conversion with him doesn’t. It doesn’t feel right.”

“What, Jon? He’s being mean? Rough having a couple of new responsibilities?” Tim scoffed. “You got the job over someone more qualified, over someone who works harder than anyone--”

“Tim--” He held up his hand.

“Sash, he needs to hear this. Someone needs to tell him the truth.”

“The, the truth?”

Yeah, Jon. The truth. She deserves so much better than this and now her choices are to settle or flat out leave and it’s your fault. All because you couldn’t resist the urge to interview behind her back!”

“That’s not what happened!” Even Jon could hear his whinging, voice high and desperate for one of them to believe him.

“Not from where we’re standing, mate.” Tim crossed his arms and sat back in his chair and when Jon looked to Sasha she merely shrugged. Martin just looked helpless, staring into his tea and avoiding eye contact all together.

“I, I. That’s not.” Repeating himself wouldn’t do anything to save him and he fought against the tears gathering on his lashes. “I’m s’sorry.”

“Anything else?”

No. There was nothing else.

Jon kept to himself, kept his head down, arriving before the rest of them and leaving long after they did. He didn’t want to see them. He’d made a right fool of himself enough for now, unsure if his fragile self esteem could withstand another blow. Really, he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen and there was no way to explain how Elias had maneuvered him so skillfully into this position. Was he trying to drive a wedge between them? Knowing Jon would invite his two closest friends to accompany him? A knock on the door made him jump, reminding him for a moment of a very different and more sinister one from his childhood.

“Jon?” Martin, no doubt with another overture of friendship he was loath to accept. It was easier to remain alone rather than face the hurt of another rejection so soon.

“What do you need?” Caught off guard by his sore throat, he coughed roughly into his elbow, accepting the tea to soothe it with a nod of thanks.

“That doesn’t sound good.” It wasn’t. Now that he wasn’t burying himself shoulders deep in work and self flagellation he was aware of aching muscles and oppressive fatigue, a throbbing at the base of his skull that made him stomach sick.

“It’s nothing. I neglected to drink any water today.” It was true, he realized and Martin didn’t look convinced but Jon didn’t want to go into how miserable he’d been feeling lately. Tired and wrung out trying to avoid them all and figure this out and not have a melt down all at the same time.

“You should take better care of yourself.” Gentle and kind and Jon bristled with it, flustered with the concern.

“I’ll take that under advisement.” He turned away, staring at the messy surface of his blotter to avoid anymore interaction. “I have work to do.” Martin shifted, an expression Jon couldn’t parse on his face when he glanced up at the silence. “So…?”

“Oh! Yes, I’ll be going then.” Another awkward beat passed between the two of them.

“Thank you, Martin.”

Despite feeling particularly woozy it had been a good day.

Elias nodded to him when they passed each other on the way to lunch.

He pointed out a particularly competent piece of research.

Praised how well he was handling the job lately.

It was a shame it was at the cost of his sanity. Jon was falling apart at his poorly sewn seams, every moment another snapped suture and he was pinning himself back together with clothes pegs in a windstorm. Even he knew this wasn’t sustainable. He was going to burn out like a match overextending himself like this. But avoiding his assistants meant he wasn’t able to ask them for help. He’d made his bed. He just wished he could lay in it.

Maybe Elias would approve of Jon taking the rest of the day. He’d stayed late all week. Caught up with work and even plowed ahead a little bit. So when Jon caught him in the hall he tentatively asked.

"Y'you see, I. I've been a bit under the weather and I thought since I'm ahead--"

“Jonathan,” the disappointment in the way he said his name struck Jon like a bolt of lightning and he couldn’t stop the way his face fell. “You’ve barely begun.” Oh lord, he’d read this wrong. So very wrong. “Do you truly think it’s appropriate to ask for time off so early in your tenure?”

"No, of course not. I just meant, I just thought--"

"I find that difficult to believe.” He didn’t bother hiding his contempt. “If there's nothing else?" Jon shook his head, not trusting himself to speak lest he burst into hysterics right here. Elias left him where he stood and Jon took a few moments to compose himself before turning back the way he came only to nearly run into Martin.

"I didn't mean to listen!" He held up his hands in supplication or surrender. "I swear I didn't, Jon."

"S'fine." There wasn't enough left of him to care and when he made to step around the other man found himself stopped by a careful touch at his bicep.

“Wait, um. Please. Does he, does he always speak to you that way?” Jon eyed Martin warily. He was the only one of his assistants he didn’t really know. Why would he care?

“Only when I’ve made a mistake.” When I deserve it. When I’ve failed to figure out what he wants from me and done something wrong.

“It didn’t seem very professional.” Shame ran red-hot through his veins--what did he know?

“I assure you, I was. I was out of line.” Jon didn’t want to be here having this conversation with Martin of all people. He wanted to retreat to the relative safety of his office where he could sit in the dark and continue underperforming at his job.

“Jon, you’re not well.” Martin sounded upset with him and somehow it hurt worse than it did with Elias. At least Elias knew him. Martin by all accounts was a stranger. “You should be at home.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand.” Jon tore his trembling hands through already bedraggled and greasy hair. He was disgusting. Unprofessional. Sweating through his clothes and unable to focus long enough to make it through even one statement.

"What don't I understand?" Jon's expression turned hard.

"Forgive me if I don't wish to count the ways in which I've failed at my job for you."

"Jon I--"

"Leave it, Martin." And he stalked off in none to straight a line, leaving Martin to gawk at his back.

Jon collapsed against his desk, the old pine creaking under even his small weight, before clawing his way across it to the chair and barely grabbing the bin in time to be sick. With nothing to lose he laid over it, stomach convulsing painfully as he fought to win back tentative control and only putting it back when his own panting became too loud in his head. Jon allowed himself a cry, forehead pillowed on folded arms where he slumped, muffling the pathetic sounds that slipped past him with his teeth; biting his wrist where his cuff would keep the mark hidden.

Tim's unceremonious arrival surprised him and Jon yelped, reflexively running a sleeve over his face to erase the evidence even though he knew it wouldn’t make much difference.

"Martin told us."

"Tol'tol'you what?" Real fear rooted him where he sat, raising the hairs on his arms and sending a thrill up his spine. What did they know? What had he said? Did he tell them about Elias reprimanding him? Proof of his incompetence? Were they here to yell at him again?

"How Elias has been treating you."

"Jon. You do realize it's him being unprofessional."

“You can’t let him treat you that way.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We would have helped you.”

Like a volley of canon fire each fast phrase pounded against his crumbling defenses and left him reeling with contradicting information.

“You should have said something earlier.” He tried. He just hadn’t tried hard enough and he didn’t know what made the words tumble out of his mouth now but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:

“I tried!” And he'd known better than to try again and risk another telling off. He was shaking and sick. He didn’t want to be here anymore, wanted to go home. “But I d’did this to myself, didn’t I? That's why you l'let me hear the t't'ruth.”

“No, I was. No, Jon--” He plowed on, overwrought and interrupting Tim, words spilling out of him too fast to be taken back.

“I thought we. W’we were friends. I thought I could come to you when th’things aren’t g’good. Like before, like in research.” Jon scrubbed at his face. “But you just. You hate me. And I know it's my fault. I know I'm not, not fit for this position and I know it's ungrateful of me but I don't want to be here. I’m so tired. I don’t. I don’t feel well. And I’m not allowed to leave.”

“What do you mean?” Tim was a hell of a lot closer than he had been, kneeling on the floor and holding Jon's hands to keep him from scratching himself to ribbons.

“I’ve been telling you.” It came out as a pitiful sob, squeaking past a throat tight from holding back the sea.

“Okay, okay. Just tell us again.” Jon closed aching eyes, hot tears falling over hot cheeks, breath panting and strained in his twisted up chest all tied up and tangled with twine.

“I can’t s’skive off. Elias said.” Like a touchstone a pair of soft hands guided him back in the chair.

“He’s burning up.”

“Doesn’matter.”

“Of course it matters, Jon.” Sasha’s voice came from far away, through a tunnel, wending its way to his stopped up ears through syrup. His next thought slipped away, dissolving in the heat swallowing him up from top to toes. Breathing became harder, impossible, lungs full of caking cement smothering choking snuffing him out like a candle flame.

“Jon?”

“Jon!”

Devoured and spit out again, again again

writhing,

drifting on an outgoing tide of misery and affliction,

waves of agony break over him and suck him under and roll him along the mud bottom of a polluted river and every gasp he snatches at the surface is less and less and less

Clicking, beeping, the chirping of a million birds in a thousand trees and each one wants his attention tick tick ticking away like the blood red hand of a watch and awareness trickles in like hot black tar against the surface of his eyelids.

Fluorescent lights carve their way in between heavy lashes and Jon recognizes the broken sound of denial as his own. A noise, a voice? in the room and the blinding glow receded enough to think about figuring out where he was. He coughed, mouth a desert, and welcomed a spoonful of ice chips blissful and cool against the heat seeping through his veins, his arteries, his skin.

“Jon?” He recognized the sound, the person, the thumb tracing circles over the back of his hand. “Hey, there he is. Welcome back, bud.”

“T’Tim…waz…?” Fairy floss crowded out any thoughts and Jon spent the next seconds trying to come up with more words and failing.

“Do you remember what happened?” Martin took up space next, then Sasha, crowded around him and no, he didn’t. Was barely able to catalogue his body; the deep seated ache, a prickly itch in the corner of his elbow.

“Hos’ital?” Tim nodded, offering up another spoonful and Jon let them melt over his tongue. Lord, he was tired, prying open eyes he didn’t remember closing.

“S’okay, buddy.” He was being so kind. Like he used to be in Research and the last thing he felt before it all faded away were twin sweeps of familiar fingers wiping away tears.

All three assistants were still there the next time he woke though Jon had no idea of how much time had passed. He wasn’t as confused, actually aware of his surroundings and he scratched absentmindedly at the IV taped to his skin. The thin gown didn’t have sleeves long enough to hide the lines left behind by his nails. He didn’t remember clawing himself up like that.

“How do you feel?” Martin looked relieved, tired.

“Uh. Fine, fine.” He plucked at the stiff blanket, avoiding their eyes. “What. I’m s’sorry. I can’t seem to--what happened?”

“You’ve been sick, Jon.” Tim plunked himself down in a terrible plastic chair. “Bad stomach flu, dehydration. You’ve been here for days.” There was a hard edge to his voice and Jon suppressed a flinch.

“S’sorry.” Sasha sat down at his other side, taking up a hand, and Martin offered him a smile.

“Jon, please don’t be.” She looked tired too, drawn and pale. “Tim and I are the ones apologizing.” Jon shook his head, staring at his lap and withdrawing his hand to worry at his fingers.

“I shouldn’t have--”

“What?” Tim cut him off. “Asked for help?” Jon nodded, earnest, glad they were all on the same page.

“Yes! You’re understandably angry with me. I didn’t respect that.”

“Can you hear how ridiculous you sound?” Tim wasn’t shouting but it was a close thing. “We froze you out! Left you alone! Accused you of lying about how Elias was treating you--Jon. Being upset about a stupid promotion doesn’t warrant how we treated you. You know that, right?”

“I don’t. I don’t know?” Sasha hushed Tim before he could start up again.

“It doesn’t. And when you became ill we blamed you for that too, for not telling us after we gave you no reason to trust that we would help and it wasn’t right.” Gently, she embraced him and he couldn’t stop himself from collapsing into her and while she wasn’t always one for physical displays of affection, she pressed him closer. “We’re going to do better.”

“We’re in this together, boss, like we should have been from the beginning. From this minute on.” Tim clasped him on the shoulder. “Okay?” Jon, exhausted and confused and hopeful, looked up at Martin when he nodded too.

“Okay.”

[papergirllife]

Chapter 3

Synopsis:

You don’t know what it’s like to be free, to make your own choices, and live your own life. For your whole life, your parents have been treating you like a puppet on strings, controlling your life to every single detail, as well as ignoring the fact that you have feelings. Other times, when you disobey their wishes, or speak up about your own opinions, they bash you down with words, in other words, psychological abuse, has led you down the long winded road of depression and anxiety. What happens when you meet a man who’s willing to be your guide out of this terrible downpour? Would you give a shot at happily ever after?

Warnings:

big age gap (kinda?)

issues on anxiety

issues on depression (mild)

issues on parental abuse

smut (maybe)

Tag List: @etherealtyjaem​ ,  @caratzennie  , @johnnysuhnflower  ,  @euphoricchannie  ,  @yeollieseo  ,  @jjhmk  , @sherzess , @wonderfulkoreanpop​

(lmk if you wanna be on the list)

You’ve been seeing Mr Suh, correction, Johnny, his first name, as per requested by Johnny himself.

“Mr Suh makes me feel older than I already am, you make me feel like a teenager all over again, so you have to call me Johnny. Let me relive my days when I was still a college kid.”

You didn’t mind, things aren’t as awkward between the two of you anymore, Johnny’s been spending time with you, although the two of you never established any sort of labelling towards what this relationship is. You and Johnny only hung out and had meals together, trying out different cuisines, watching movies, even going as far as skipping a day at work to go to the amusement park. He even bought you to an arcade when you told him you haven’t had the chance to venture to one since you were in grade school.

“Why haven’t you ever been to one for so long?” Johnny asked when he finished a round of pinball.

“They said it was a waste of time and that I should spend more time studying,” you said, wondering why Johnny would ask that, isn’t it the same for all the kids?

Whenever you mention your confining life to Johnny, he’d have a faraway look in his eyes, jaw locked in silent rebuke, he doesn’t say anything, he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He would be quite for almost half an hour before he goes back to regular cheerful Johnny, telling you lame jokes that you would surprisingly find funny.

You didn’t have a phone, since your parents forbid you to have one, the only means of communicating is through your email account on your laptop, and even that you must always bear in mind to delete his mails right after, and take further precaution, you didn’t allow him to initiate the sending.

Johnny wanted to buy you one, but you rejected him promptly, you didn’t want him to spend so much money on you, he already spends lots on taking you out to eat. You gave him the excuse that it was too dangerous, and the consequences of getting caught are severe.

You often questioned your relationship with Johnny, you aren’t dumb, you’ve googled him and saw gossip news portals uploading photos of him and some model going out and about in hotels, but those headlines were months ago, the latest news about him was from his interview with Times magazine.

You never had the guts to ask him, you don’t know what you mean to him. What right do you have to question his whereabouts and what he does? He’ll probably be bored of you after he’s known all of you.

You know you shouldn’t think of Johnny that way, it is mean to assume what he’s thinking, especially how well he’s treating you, but seeing those headlines gives you a sense of insecurity, you keep telling yourself that this won’t last, but the thought of not seeing him again made your hair stand. He’s making you happy, a distraction towards the negativity you face in that house you live in, but for how long?

House. You never called it a home, unless you were telling your boss you were leaving, to prevent anyone from questioning your odd way of describing it. It was never a home to you. To you, a home is a place where you feel happy, safe, and most importantly, loved. The closest you’ve ever felt to having these feelings were your grandma and Joh... No, you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you. What were you thinking?

You pushed those thoughts away as you opened your laptop to double check the files that you’ve typed out for your parent’s next important meeting that was supposed to be taking place first thing tomorrow. But when you went through your folders, the files were nowhere to be seen. It’s then you realised that the notification that keeps urging you to update the laptop was gone, it wasn’t the first time you updated the laptop and found out some files were missing, so you would never update the laptop at such a crucial time.

You took the laptop out to your father who was watching some news on his phone in the dining area to ask him if he had updated the software without alerting you.

“Yes, I did. What about it?” he asked, annoyance on his face due to the sudden disturbance.

“The files are missing because of the update,” you informed him.

��What files?” 

“The files for tomorrow’s meeting, they’re missing,” you told him as you mentally prepared yourself for what’s to come.

“What do you mean missing?! I bet it was because you saved it wrongly again! Your retarded brain never works does it?! Do you know how important those files are?! You always work on them late at night blurry eyed, of course you didn’t save them properly! You could’ve worked on them in the morning before work. but no... You want to ‘exercise’! What a waste of time!” You’re not pretty anyways, what are you doing them for huh?!” Your father shouted, his eyes blazing in rage, his fist slamming onto the glass.

While your father was shouting, your mother was checking the laptop as she complains about how clueless you are. It was like your brain couldn’t take the amount of hurtful words piercing into your mind like daggers, you let out a high pitched scream as tears threatened to fall, your hands covering your ears as your eyes were a blur.

When you could see properly again, you could make up words which sounded like ‘how dare you’ from your father, next thing you registered were the fury in his eyes as he advances on you, hand above his head, ready to hit you. You didn’t know what came over you, but the first thing you did was kicking him away. That’s when a full on fight broke out.

You were filled with rage, your mind wasn’t registering what you were doing. You went into a flight or fight stance and started thrashing and kicking as his hands were holding painfully tight on your wrists after you tried punching him.

Your mom urges the both of you not to fight, her voice barely registering in your head as she sits still on the high chair by the kitchen island, not bothered to even try to cease the fight.

When you finally pushed him away, you ran into your room and locked it. Your chest was heaving from the panic attack that just started, you tried your best to calm yourself down, reminding yourself to breathe, it was suffocating, controlling your breathing as more tears made its way out of your eyes.

When it all stopped, your body succumbed into mental exhaustion, passing out on your bed as the tears finally ceased.

You only woke up for dinner last night, and proceeded to sleep again. Yesterday’s events made you feel numb, other than the pain from the bruises on your arms.

There was a big ugly one on your left upper arm, its colour an ugly shade of green and purple.  A few other less serious ones scattered around your lower arms. In other words, you look like a wreck.

You wore a jacket to run even though you were sweating from your previous cardio work outs, feeling a little better after the endorphins in your body kicked in. When you got back, you quickly showered and ate a toast. When you asked for your mother’s phone to remind your boss you were going to take the day off, she told you that weren’t needed at the meeting anymore and that she finished everything last night.

“Just call to say that you’ll be going to work,” she said, not even looking in your direction when she handed you her phone.

But when you called to inform your boss, he told you that he had another part time coming in, and that it was too short of a notice. You said thank you and hung up, but said that you’ll be at work on time today before handing it back to your mother.

You really needed to escape for the day.

You opened the laptop and sent an email to Johnny.

I’m free today. Wanna go out?

You sat on your bed staring at the ceiling as you were sure it was going to be a bit before he replied, but just as you closed your eyes, you heard a distant chime from your laptop.

I’m rushing some stuff at the office today. I’m so sorry, Y/N.

Can I stay in your office? I really wanna get out of the house.

You sounded like a spoiled kid begging for attention, but you really wanted to see him today.

Sure. But you might get bored :) .

I’m leaving the house now :) .

For a 26 year old businessman, he sure loves to use emoticons.

You got changed into jeans and a jacket, you don’t usually wear one if you were going to a secluded area with Johnny, but you had to hide all the marks from last night. You just noticed that they hurt after you accidentally knocked your wrist against something.

You took the bus to the address Johnny wrote down on your diary, it was after one of your dinners together, and he jokingly said that you could always swing by if you wanted, you didn’t know you were going to actually do that.

The bus station wasn’t too far of a walk from his office, since it was just downtown Seoul where the Korea’s financial hub was located.

As you were nearing the office buildings, you stood out like a sore thumb, given the way you were dressed and your age. The people kept giving you stink eyes and sideway glances.

Suh Capital Partners. That was it.

You walked in the rotating doors, only to be greeted by masses of people walking around with smart pads, files, talking on the phone while the assistants take notes. Johnny didn’t mention his company being this big.

You admired the facade of the lobby, it displayed the latest news on a large monitor while futuristic lights hung from the high ceiling, the walls were a perfect balance of steel and wood with a wall of plants filled the wall behind the reception area. 

You realised that the people stopped what they were doing before and started looking at you curiously when one of the nicely dressed women from the reception walked up to you.

“Excuse me, miss. May I ask who are you looking for?” the woman asked, her eyes scanning you from top to toe.

You froze at your spot from how cold she sounded, like she didn’t want you around to ruin the aesthetic of the company. You reminded yourself that you weren’t going to see her anytime soon after this and that if you did make a fool of yourself then so be it.

“I’m looking for Mr Suh,” you told her.

She looked taken aback from your answer, but gave you the ugliest sneer when she recovered.

“Miss, this isn’t a school, you can’t just walk in here and demand to see someone without an appointment. Mr Suh is the head of this company, not someone you can just meet without an agreement from him. Please leave this instance,” she said, her tone high pitched enough to gather everyone’s attention, you swore you heard someone laughing a few feet away.

“But...

“That’s my guest, Ms Park.”

You whipped your head back to see Johnny standing behind you. But instead of his usual warm honey eyes, his eyes were a cold and staring daggers into the woman in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Suh. I’ll get back to my work now,” the woman bowed apologetically, going as far as doing it numerous times.

“I’m going to need a key card for her, Ms Park. Send it up to me when you’re done,” Johnny said, but his eyes were scanning the crowd, his employees immediately went back to what they were doing, the large lobby void of any sound other than people rushing to the lift lobby to escape the scene.

Johnny placed a hand behind your back and guided you to the lift lobby after most of the people have taken the ride up to their respective floors.

“I’m sorry,” you said after the coast was clear.

Johnny’s intimidating stance broke as confusion takes over his face.

“What are you sorry for?” Johnny asked, he should be the one saying sorry.

“I’m such an embarrassment, coming here in my jeans and jacket with a canvas bag, looking like a kid,” you said, fingers nervously tugging the straps of your old bag.

“Hey, hey, hey. Nothing’s wrong with being young and dressing your age. They’re just grumpy from all the work. Don’t take their words into account, and you look great. Perfection as always,” Johnny said reassuringly, hands placed on your shoulder, the warmth of his palms calming you slightly.

“No....

You buried your face into your hands as he patted your head, you sneakily glanced up to see him smiling at you with a toothy grin. But you quickly regained posture as you saw an elevator door open with many pairs of legs.

Johnny wasn’t going in even though the lift was going up, that’s when people in the lift realised it was him, and quickly came out of the lift, saying sorry and greeting Johnny.

Johnny guided you in after the lift was cleared empty. His staff looking at you curiously, you weren’t used to having so many pairs of eyes on you, their curious eyes burning holes into you.

Johnny could sense your anxiousness from the way you were hiding behind his tall figure as the two of you walked into his office, there weren’t many people at that time, given the fact that only direct reports of his business partners came up to hand in documents.

You only felt yourself loosen up a bit after you took a seat on Johnny’s armchair in his huge office, overlooking Seoul’s skyline and the cars that were buzzing about on the roads. The view made you calm down a bit from the journey coming up here.

You felt the chair dip as Johnny took a seat on its armrest, his hands coming up to give your shoulders a nice massage. Johnny smiled at the way your eyes lit up from his comforting touch as you looked back to smile at him, he felt a warm feeling deep in his belly as he takes in your beautiful features and the warmth of your shoulders on his fingertips. But as he puts more pressure onto your shoulders, you wince slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Did your boss at work make you lift heavy stuff again?” Johnny asked, his hands ceased all movements, fearing that he would hurt you again.

You automatically thought of your fight with your father last night, it might be because of the force exerted from when he had pushed you.

“N-no, I just didn’t sleep well last night. I watched a horror movie and had a nightmare,” you lied, not knowing how he would react if you told him the truth.

“Be careful when watching these movies, Y/N. If you went to work and your boss really made you move heavy things today, then you would’ve strain your muscles,” Johnny said, going back to massaging your shoulders, but this time gently applying pressure on that spot, rubbing it in clockwise circles to ease the pain.

“I’m fine, Johnny. Didn’t you have work to rush? I don’t want to keep you away from important matters. And my shoulders feel much better now,” you said, moving away from his hands even though you could’ve let him do that forever, it felt so comforting, borderline addictive.

“Okay, I’ll tend to your shoulders again later.” Johnny said as he lays his head on top of yours, a gesture that he had came up with whenever he wanted to show affection to you without crossing uncharted territories, your heart sped up whenever he does that.

You were just sitting on the couch reading one of your old books when you looked up and saw Johnny frowning at his laptop, you placed your book down and made your way to Johnny.

“Don’t frown like that, you’ll get frown lines when you’ll get older, it’ll spoil your handsome face,” you joked.

Your hands reach out to smooth the creases on his forehead, a smile coming back to Johnny’s face.

“Thank you,” he said, taking your busy hand into his, lightly tracing the area between your thumb and your index finger.

“What’s bothering you?” you asked, unbeknownst to you, your lips were unconsciously set in a pout.

“There’s some documents that are supposed to be sent to my office in Chicago, but the English that’s written here isn’t up to standards, I’m worried the staff there won’t understand what the document is stating. I don’t mind correcting it, but I have other things to tend to as well,” Johnny explained to you.

“Can I take a look at it? I had Cambridge classes for 8 years. Guess it’s finally coming in handy. I mean only if you think I’m capable, I don’t want you to think I’m boasting or anything, I just really wanna help...

“Y/N, sweet, I trust you. Just let me get you a laptop,” he said before dialling to his secretary.

Once Johnny sent the files to that laptop, you started correcting some grammatical errors and replaced some terms that weren’t as professional, when Johnny was done with his meeting, you were done with the documents as well.

“Here, take a look. There might be mistakes,” you said after sending him the files back.

“You were reading ‘me before you’, I think you’re fine, Y/N,” Johnny deadpanned.

“Just take a look, just in case,” you pleaded, doe eyes capturing his heart. Nodding, Johnny smiles, doing as you said.

Johnny scanned through the documents, his eyes lighting up brighter after each sentence, a proud smile making way on his face. When he was done, he pulled you close by the waist, and gave you a warm hug, his head nuzzling into your sweater.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart. I thought I needed to work overtime because of this,” he said, his voice was slightly muffled by the cotton.

“You’re welcome. You can always send me these files when I’m not here, I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” you offered.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Wanna grab lunch? I can hear your stomach rumbling,” Johnny asked after pulling away, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as you hit Johnny’s shoulders lightly for his teasing, a smile creeping up your face.

“No, I’m not...

“Come on, I know this really nice French restaurant around the corner...

“Johnny I have the file you were...

Doyoung stops in his tracks as he sees you and Johnny being so close to each other.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a guest,” Doyoung apologises, but his eyes were still wide in disbelief.

“Doyoung. This is Y/N. Y/N, Doyoung is one of my business partners, his dad was my dad’s business partner so now it’s his turn,” Johnny introduces his friend to you, telling you a bit of his background.

You gave Doyoung a tiny bow and soft hello, nerves wrecking up at meeting someone you often see on telly whenever their company has a press conference. You could sense an air of discomfort as Doyoung gives you a questioning look.

“You can just put the files on my desk Doyoung. I’ll take a look at them after my lunch break.”

When the evening rolled in, Johnny had to drive you home before your mom questioned your whereabouts.

“I really enjoyed having you by my side today, Y/N,” Johnny said sincerely after pulling up outside the gated area.

“I should be the one thanking you, I can’t believe those snails cost so much, yet you won’t let me pay you back whenever we have meals together,” you retorted, recalling how your eyes almost flew out of their sockets when you stole a glance at the bill.

“Money is not an issue, Y/N. I told you that many times before,” Johnny reminded you.

“I’ll see you on Saturday?” you asked, changing the subject before he offers to buy you a house or something.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, chuckling at how you diverted his attention.

Johnny unlocked the doors of his car, but right before you pulled onto the handle, Johnny pulled your arm, the place where one of the bigger bruises were located at, making you wince at the unexpected pain.

“Y/N I wanted to ask, wait. Are you in pain? Are you hurt? Did I accidentally hurt you?” Johnny asked his eyes wide in worry.

Before you could protest, Johnny pushed up the sleeves of your sweater, revealing the big ugly bruise on your upper arm, and several others that went downwards until your wrist.

You looked up at Johnny, scanning his face that was frozen in shock, eyes not believing what he’s seeing. His fingers gently tracing every bruise, his other hand rotating your arm gently, to see if there’s more.

“Y/N... Who did this to you?” Johnny questioned, but deep down in his gut, he’s sure it’s who he thinks it is.

“No one, Johnny. I just fell down when I woke up,” you said, lying through your teeth, you didn’t want to, but that was your survival instinct whenever someone asks about your parents.

“Don’t lie to me Y/N, it’s them isn’t it? They hit you. Why didn’t you tell me?” Johnny demanded, he questions why you don’t trust him, was he not worthy in your eyes?

“It’s nothing, Johnny. Goodnight,” you said in a breath before turning away.

You quickly got out of his car and ran to your lift lobby, Johnny was following behind you. But before he could step into the premise, you shut the glass door which could only be opened with a security card on him, mouthing the words sorry before you made your way into a lift.

Johnny banged at the door, shouting for you to come back, before the security guards asked him to leave. He could feel a prickle in his heart as he sees the bruises in his head, the image fresh. He felt red hot anger boiling in his heart, he was going to get you out of that horrible place, no matter what it takes.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Hopelessness of Wanting [Part 2]

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

Continuation of an angsty dark fic request. 

Warnings: suicidal thoughts/attempt (I made myself real sad with this one so be warned if you’re vulnerable to negative thinking), NSFW, smut (gender-neutral), unhealthy relationship, depression, neurodivergent reader. Melancholy rambling. 

3,200 words

“Don’t worry about what Dr. Chilton thinks,” Nurse Clerval advised as soon as he was out of earshot. “He’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, but”—you tugged the hem of your scrubs—“He’s right. I keep messing up. I think he hates me.” You stopped there, too ashamed to admit you were the biggest fuck-up on the entire staff, new or not, or that you could tell Dr. Chilton regretted his decision to hire you.

“And the rest of us hate him. Just keep doing your job, learn the ropes—he’ll back off.”

You nodded silently and continued your rounds, delivering meds and checking in on patients. Amy had to be restrained again when she wouldn’t stop biting. Julianne seemed more confused lately, though you hadn’t known any of them long enough to tell what was normal.

Clerval’s words hung over you. It didn’t seem right that everyone hated Dr. Chilton. He was a little brusque, yes, but intelligent. Wickedly sarcastic. Posturing and puffing himself up whenever people he admired came to visit the hospital, and he wanted badly to impress them. Lonely.

Your cheeks heated at the thought of those intense bursts of green under his brow—the first thing you noticed when he conducted your interview. His eyes almost matched the light green scrubs you wore at the hospital you trained in, though the uniform here was white (as if leaning into the One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest vibe.)

But what drew you in wasn’t that his eyes were beautiful—though they were—it was the way they made contact with yours. Staring you down with fake confidence, as if he were forcing it. That stare must have been off-putting to most people, but it made your spirit leap with that particular spark of connection one only feels when finding a kindred spirit.

“Hey! Still sulking? Hurry it up,” Clerval called, jolting you to attention. You trotted after.

It was nice having a mentor on the staff, but at the same time, it just felt like having another person to eventually disappoint.

“Here! What’s next?” you beamed.

***

Dr. Chilton didn’t back off over the next few weeks as Nurse Clerval suggested. The more you thought you were getting the hang of routines at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, the more mistakes you seemed to make, and the harder its administrator came down on you. And the more the handsome, scarred Dr. Chilton hated you, the more nervous mistakes you made.

In nursing school, you aced everything technical. Every written test. Every memorized statistic, sterilization procedure, medication instruction, and anatomy diagram. But when it came to interacting with patients and families—being compassionate yet professional—nothing came naturally. As a child, you learned how to fake eye contact by staring at the bridge of someone’s nose. How to smile bright and encourage others so they don’t reject you. So they don’t see you as cold or weird. But sometimes, you felt like an alien just parroting human behavior.

The guy you had been dating when you started working at the BSHCI said something similar to you when he broke it off. That you were “unavailable” and never understood what he needed.

There was a reason your first choice job was at a hospital where the only patients were mentally ill murderers.

Dr. Frederick Chilton was the same way. Just better at hiding it, or braver about not caring when his mannerisms rubbed people the wrong way. He didn’t fall apart like you did. He was… incredible. As soon as you met him, you knew you wanted the job. His smile was forced but friendly that first day, and you went home dreaming about getting to know him better.

But as soon as you were hired, the friendliness went out of his eyes. On your very first day, you passed him in the hall and smiled. He frowned and informed you that you were five minutes late clocking in. Everything—every forgotten ID card and typo on a patient file—was proof to Dr. Chilton that you were incompetent.

Worthless.

He even pointed it out when you couldn’t stand up for yourself and let Nurse Clerval defend you.

Pathetic.

Why did you ever think someone like him might like you?

He wasn’t an asshole. The constant reprimanding and disciplinary write-ups were no more than you deserved. It just hurt coming from someone you admired and wished things could be different with.

God, you wished just once he would smile at you again. Tell you that you did a good job.

Your fist hovered over the dark mahogany of the carved doors to Dr. Chilton’s office, poised to knock. To tender your resignation. You hadn’t seen the extravagant interior of his office since your interview, but you could imagine him in there: laying back on the leather couch sipping a Scotch, surrounded by tall shelves of medical books and sculpted wall molding. The air filled with the library smell of old paper.

In your imagination, his cold green eyes would soften, and he would ask why you were leaving. Apologize for being so hard on you. The Chilton in your mind clasped your hand, and you both blushed, wondering if the gesture was merely a show of professional support, or if it held a deeper meaning. He clasped tighter instead of dropping your hand, knowing— understanding—the heat behind your gaze.

A dull thud came from inside the office, followed by footsteps and a muttering voice, muffled through the door. The footsteps started heading your way, and you walked briskly down the hall toward the exit, not looking back when a moment later, the mahogany doors creaked open.

Coward.

There was no point quitting, anyway. You would never find another hospital job as slow-paced, where you rarely had to speak with outsiders—only the regular long-term patient-inmates, and a small staff of orderlies, guards, nurses, and psychiatrists.

Sometimes you thought you should quit nursing altogether, but then what would you do? Flip burgers? You’d be bad at that, too. There was nothing you wouldn’t be a failure at.

A fog hovered over you, creeping its tendrils into every thought, turning every tiny setback into the end of the world, and making every success unimportant. Leaving BSHCI wouldn’t make it better. Nothing would make it better. You were the fuck-up. Anywhere you went, the problem would always be you.

Every smile you gave was forced, but you kept smiling as if everything was normal. So long as nobody could see you drowning, it wasn’t real. There was still hope that you could get your shit together, and no one would be the wiser that you were actually a disgusting piece of human trash. So long as you could smile like you were fine, you weren’t a complete failure.

But the more you pretended to be upbeat—pretended to be someone likable—the more you were certain your coworkers didn’t like you. They must have been sick of covering for you by now.

A week later, the nurse you were replacing grunted, “Finally,” as you sprinted through the door three minutes after your shift started. That one unremarkable interaction was the final proof of a theory you had been nursing for a long time:

Everyone’s lives would be easier without you.

That was the final conclusion, the final, creeping thought the suffocating fog wormed into your head. The crescendo of a distorted symphony that had been subtly building to this from the beginning.

You couldn’t force yourself to smile anymore.

***

You didn’t have authorized access to the medication supply room, but you swiped a key from Dr. Tenley’s office. For a secure facility, the doctors of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane were lax about locking their own offices. She would notice it was missing by Monday morning, and there would be serious repercussions for stealing it, but you weren’t concerned. You wouldn’t be around to face them.

With the high-potency drugs available in a hospital and a working knowledge of pharmacology, ending a life could be quick and relatively painless.

The key clicked in the door. You glanced up and down the hallway to make sure no one was coming. But the coast was clear.

A halfhearted breath puffed from your nose. Part of you wanted to find it funny how easy this was, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

You stealthily opened the windowless metal door, stepped inside, and shut and locked it behind you without making a sound. Once inside the small room, you let out a silent sigh of relief (or despair). Only a handful of people had a key, so you were unlikely to be interrupted, especially at night with only a skeleton staff on duty.

There were three rows of tall storage shelves crammed into the walk-in closet with clean tile in the few places wall was exposed. The whir of a climate-control system drowned out the pulse in your ears as you scanned for the drugs you were looking for.

You found them faster than expected. They could have at least been hidden. The universe could have put a few more obstacles in your path, but instead, the universe was giving you a big fat sign it wanted you dead.

You picked up the packaging. Turned it over in your hand.

Just a handful of these, and all the problems you cause would be over. No more reprimands. No more disappointing everyone you meet. No more wrenching in your gut every time Dr. Chilton looks at you with contempt when you long to see a smile. No more trying so hard every minute of every day.

It wasn’t like too many people would be sad you were gone anyway. Most of them will be relieved.

Your eyes stung.

Wasn’t someone going to walk in and stop you?

Your lip trembled. Why would anyone want to stop you?

Tears rolled down your face as the reality of your plan set in. Survival instinct kicked and clawed at the cloying fog of twisted logic that promised you would be helping everyone if you stopped existing, but it was losing the battle.

And then you heard someone call your name.

You sniffed and looked up. No… not someone calling your name. Moaning it. You crept to the last row of shelves at the back and gasped—Dr. Chilton had his laptop tucked onto a shelf and was watching a clip of security feed on loop. His red, glistening erection thick in his hand as he masturbated, whimpering your name over and over.

You watched silently—he was so engrossed he didn’t notice your shadow falling over the aisle. It was only when the package of drugs slipped from your hand and clattered on the floor that he jumped with a shriek, covering himself, though his massive erection was still conspicuous in his pants. His eyes bugged out at you, face red with embarrassment—but then they quickly narrowed to anger.

“What are you doing in here? You are not authorized to be in this room,” he barked.

All you could think about was what you heard—the name gasping from his lips. It overpowered every other thought. “Were you… imagining me?”

His nostrils flared. He hastily shut the laptop which was looping security footage of you outside his office door.

Then he laughed—forced and cruel. “What I imagine is not your concern. Do not read into it. I have never shown you special treatment, have I? Do you think that I could have feelings for an incompetent nurse?”

“I know that!” Your lip trembled again now that the briefest spark of hope you had was shattered. Of course he didn’t like you. He was just a pervert who jacked off to all the nurses. “Don’t you think I know that I’m worthless? You’ve made it abundantly clear.”

Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks, and Chilton’s eyes softened, as if for the first time realizing that all his attempts to hurt you had succeeded. You were hurt. And he did not enjoy it as much as he thought.

“You are not worthless,” he said quietly. Then his eyes flicked down to the floor, at the medication you dropped. He picked it up, read what it was. His expression fell. “What were you doing in here, nurse?” he swallowed.

“Nothing. I just… needed something for a patient.”

“Lie,” he said.

You looked away. Everything was numb. It barely even occurred to you that someone stopped you after all. A handsome, awkward, cruel doctor you admired was in the same room with you and had said his first kind words since the day you met.

He took a slow step toward you. Then another. His hand—slender and surprisingly large—pressed your arm in an attempt at a comforting gesture. An alien parroting human behavior.

“You are not worthless. I assure you, none of your mistakes have been grievous. You are certainly not the least competent of my staff. Far from it. So don’t…” He swallowed. “…Do not do anything rash.”

“Sure,” you scoffed. “Then why am I the one you’re always reprimanding? The one always being called to your office?” You knew what he thought of you; he was just trying to talk you down.

“That…” he began in a broken voice, “That must be painfully obvious now.”

Your eyes peeled away from the floor and found his face, and the storm of emotions flashing over it. Shame. Trepidation. A faint light of hope.

“You like me?” Your voice sounded far away. The analytical part of your brain was whirring away above the swamp of depression bogging you down with lies that nobody could like you. But it made sense. As the words spilled from your mouth, it was like a veil lifted.

Pulling pigtails. He was pulling your pigtails because he liked you. A middle-aged psychiatrist ought to have more emotional maturity handling a crush than a third-grader, but there was a reason he worked at a hospital where the only patients were mentally ill murderers. There was a reason his staff hated him. Why he was lonely, and why you desperately wanted to be the one to fill the empty space by his side.

Frederick Chilton was a lot like you.

You could understand each other and be less alone in this world, together.

***

His eyes were closed and he was muttering something self-flagellating and vaguely apologetic when the kinetic sense of you moving closer caused Frederick Chilton to look up.

No longer out at arm’s distance, you were within each other’s breathing space. And now, he was genuinely terrified—terrified you were going to return his feelings. Of the joy it might bring crashing down on him like an airplane. He read something he never expected to see in your body language, and it shook him deeper than being walked in on with his cock in his hands.

You should have reported him for ethics violations.

If you made the case to the hospital board that he created a hostile work environment because he wanted you sexually, he would lose his job and do everybody a favor.

But this—the intention in your body—this was the farthest thing from what he deserved. You confirmed his fear when your soft, perfect lips melded against his. Yet, as always when he knew a thing was wrong, he did not push you away. Did nothing to stop you. He let you deepen the kiss slowly, and you were warm, the taste of you sweeter than he imagined in all his lonely nights of fantasizing.

His cock twitched, your closeness awakening his urges again. He moaned as your lips parted, his lips parting with them, and your tongue gently probed inside. You were tentative at first, investigating only the nearest reaches of his inner lips, and then his hand spasmed on your arm, and with a low growl, he pulled your closer—then you became ravenous. All the turbulent emotions churning within you broke free in that kiss. You sobbed into his mouth, your tongue, hot and fervent, explored and assaulted the depths of him, your hands weaving into the hair behind his neck, and he could taste your salt. It was all his tongue could do to keep up—to let himself be consumed.

Dear god, if only that passion would have ended him then and there. The moment your lips met his in an unexpected act of reciprocation was the fulfillment of every want, every tattered and twisted hope—the highest delight a man such as him could achieve. And he knew—rightly so—that all that could follow was suffering of his own design.

Dear god, let me die before I see this in ruins. Let me die with my happiness.

***

The sex wasn’t all that good. But then again, you had gone into that supply closet intending to never come out, so overall, being fucked by the man you had been pining for was a positive turn of events.

It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first time with Dr. Chilton, pressed against a cold tile wall. A hungry kiss led to his clothed erection pushing against your thigh, led to you unbuckling his belt.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered hoarsely, nervous eyes darkened with lust—and you nodded, sliding down your scrub pants, which stuck on your sneakers, hobbling your ankles. He was in too much of a rush to let you take them off—he only opened up his slacks and pulled his cock out of the fly of his briefs. And then he was thrusting into you from behind—frantic, desperate. Your ankles being bound only added to the thrill of him being in control. Dr. Chilton wanted you after all—fantasized about you—and now he was taking you, and all you had to do was surrender to his desire.

His breathy moans rose with each snap of his hips, his hands traveling up your chest under your shirt, fingers curling around your neck, possessing you. Touching every inch of skin he could get his hands on. And that noise that saved your life, your name on his lips, he chanted in your ear.

He was fast—hips racing as if this were his only chance, and if he waited, you would disappear—and he finished fast. You didn’t spend long with your face pressed to the cold tile when his moans broke into a shattered scream, and his head slumped, sweaty, against your back.

Then he turned you around to face him and got on his knees. Heedless of his own mess that he’d left sticky and bitter inside you, he pumped his fingers into you and sucked like he was fulfilling a duty. Clinical about the task, and efficient. It didn’t take him long to bring your arousal to a climax in his mouth.

After, he was quiet. When you had cleaned up, he looked at you like you were a mistake… only you weren’t certain what kind of mistake. If you reached out to reassure him, would he jerk away and tell you to never speak of this again?

“Was it… all you expected?” you asked robotically. Your arm crossed your body, hugging yourself.

And then he kissed you again, softly. He ran his fingers over your hair and pulled back just far enough to study your face. His eyes were wet, clouded with a million thoughts and regrets you would only learn about later.

“You are perfect,” he whispered.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Since I went some places this chapter... Please don’t bottle up your feelings if they’re telling you horrible things about yourself. They aren’t true, I promise. You matter. ❤️

Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Online chat: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/chat/

Help via Text: https://www.crisistextline.org/ (Text HOME to 741741)

List of additional resources: https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/suicide-resource-guide 

Tags:

@beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes / @barbasimp / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq 

[silkylious]

Pro heroes Katsuki , Deku, Kiri trending on Twitter after posting a video of them and their s/o doing the baby mama dance how they react and

A/N: Thank you for the request! since you didn’t specify if you wanted a scenario or headcanons, i’ll do headcanons since they're easier for me to write, hope thats okay!

also i have a todoroki oneshot in the works, so stay tuned for that!

Kirishima Eijirou

Kirishima was probably the one to bring up the dance in the first place. A toothy grin stretched his face as he leaped over the back of the couch, where you’d been enjoying a quaint read, a dainty hand caressing your engorged stomach. His hand snatching the book right out from your grasp, he didn’t give you a chance to respond before he practically shoved his phone in your face. An eyebrow raised skeptically at his antics, shifting your gaze to the screen in front of you. 

“Eiji, what’s this...?” He explained the challenge, his sharky smile only widening the further he explained. You were a little hesitant at first, and as you were about to voice your apprehension, your eyes caught sight of his smile, childlike and boyish. Fuck. How could you say no to that?

You spent a good half an hour trying to get the dance moves right, Eijirou cheering you on while fucking up his own moves. 

Kirishima can’t dance to save his life. You can’t convince me otherwise. But did that stop him? Nope.

He adjusted the camera on make-shift tripod, consisting of boxes and other random objects. he started the timer and you two began busting out moves, Eijirou still lacking all the skill needed for this exercise, his moves choppy and uncoordinated, though his enthusiasm made up for his amateurism. The precious grin adorning his face made you glad you took him up on his offer.

By the end of the routine, both of you were left panting for oxygen. He heaved a breathless chuckle before pulling you into his grip from behind, his large hands gingerly stroking your tummy, his lips pressed lovingly to your cheek. With his signature million watt smile ever present on his face, he sighed out words of tranquil, “Thanks for doing this, babe,” he pressed another exaggerated kiss to your face.

The video was posted on his official Twitter, right before you went to bed.

The next morning, no words could articulate the sheer affection you felt bubbling up in your chest when you opened your eyes to the sight of Eijirou’s pure jubilation. Just the look of unbridled happiness on his face made you fall head over heels for him all over again. While you were busy ogling him, his own heart accelerated with uninhibited pride and love as his eyes scanned the screen in his hands.

Kirishima loved to show you off, how could he not? you were amazing in every sense of the word, and you were all his, to love and to cherish. So you can only imagine the utter joy he felt when he saw #TinyRiot trending on twitter.

He skimmed through the countless replies and comments of people congratulating the couple and clowning on his less than impressive choreography, some were from his coworkers, some were from his fans, he replied to them as best as he could with delight radiating off of him. He continued going through his mentions until he eventually felt the heated stare on his face. Turning to his side, he finally met your eyes, your rounded figure peacefully nestled beside him on the bed, your stare so full with love and mirth it made his chest tighten, almost suffocating him.

Kirishima has always been good with words, and people in general but in that moment no matter how hard he tried to speak nothing would come out of his mouth, captivated by your adoring gaze. You looked at him like he was your entire universe. And he couldn’t handle that, the feeling building in his gut becoming too much for him.

 He had to let it out, less he spontaneously combust. Since he knew his voice would fail him if he tried to speak, he settled for pulling you in for a passionate kiss, hoping it would convey all the words he couldn’t say.

Midoriya Izuku

When you first approached him with the idea he had been a bit apprehensive. Don’t get him wrong, heaven knows he’d do anything to keep you content. But being in the position he was in, Izuku was painfully, sadly aware of the target put on not only his back, but his family as well. 

He didn’t want to expose you and his child to the danger that came with his blinding spotlight.

Izuku wears his heart on his sleeve. No matter how hard he tried to mask it, the boy was an open book, so you could immediately sense the reluctance on his face when you mentioned posting the video online.

You knew of the complications that came with dating a Pro-hero, the number one Pro-hero, so you were perfectly understanding of his hesitance and didn’t push it further. Though you couldn’t help the disappointment that flooded your features either.

The look of mild discontent on your face didn’t sit well with him, his conscious already conquered by guilt. As his green irises descended onto your pregnant belly, something in him snapped.

He wanted to provide his unborn son with a normal childhood, well as normal as someone like him could. And he wouldn’t be able to do that if he kept barring his family from enjoying the simple delicacies of life in fear of getting them hurt. He was a hero, for god’s sake! The arrival of a new addition in his tight-knit family only meant that he’d have to work harder to forge the perfect world for them, for his son.

His habit of mumbling his thoughts had you fully aware of the dilemma going on in his head, and you knew if you didn’t stop him now nothing else would. His forehead was flicked by dainty, soft fingers, snapping him out of his trance, “It’s fine, ‘Zuku, don’t worry about it.” too late, he’d already made up his mind.

Now with his previous dread thrown out the window, he grabbed your hands and hopped off the couch where he’d been previously watching some All Might docuseries, a determined look in his wide verdant eyes.

You spent a good hour practicing the moves, Deku was holding up just fine, the dance classes he’d taken with Mina during the Cultural Festival doing a good number on him. With enough effort and unrelenting obstinacy, he’d mastered the routine in record time. Now with the camera set up, it was time to preform.The whole dance, a gentle twinkle lit up his face, he truly couldn’t be more content watching you dance your heart out without a care. 

The clip was posted, and you two were off to prepare dinner, ignorant to the fucking storm of notifications blowing his phone up. 

Now hear me out; Deku absolutely fanboys over All Might in interviews or in public. His fans had already noticed the striking similarities between their quirks and they were well aware of his love of the retired Pro, so he was dubbed “All Might Jr.” His heart almost went into cardiac arrest when he saw #SmallMight trending on Twitter. Poor boy had just finished washing the dishes, he went to check his phone only for all colour to leave his face before he was red as a damn tomato.

You peered over his shoulder to see what had gotten him so flustered only to bring your fist to your mouth in a fruitless attempt at silencing your fit of giggles.

Now as blissful as it was to have a combination of his fans and colleagues (who had already known about the pregnancy) congratulating him, he knew it wouldn’t take long for the media to scrutinise his decision, bringing unwanted discourse into his personal life. But he was more than ready for that, after all, he had vowed to himself that he would protect you and his child, whether from villains or from mainstream media, he would let you both live your lives without any inhibitions.

Bakugo Katsuki  

Katsuki flat out refused when you initially asked him. Which was to be expected. Katsuki is private person when it comes to personal matters, you literally had to beg him to tell your friends about the pregnancy (honestly you were about ready to pull up a PowerPoint presentation on why Friends Matter and They Deserve to Know Important News™) 

The rejection didn’t stop you from nagging him about it though. 

He was in a similar situation to Deku, being the number two Pro-hero and the symbol of victory shined a light on him, for better or worse, he didn’t want to expose you and his daughter to the dark facets of his career. That and he did think it was stupid. He didn’t understand the appeal of sharing something so special with the general public, it was your private lives dammit! 

“Why do you wanna do it so bad?” it was a valid question, though phrased with overbearing aggression, he was getting fed up with your persistence. He immediately dialed down his abrasiveness when you flinched, your gaze descending to the floor, your hormones making you more susceptible to his harsh mannerisms.

“I just thought it would be cute to do...” Your voice trailed off, and his mind berated him as he watched your bottom lip quiver. He just couldn’t resist you, could he?

Eventually, he gave in, but he made it a point to spend as little time as humanly possible on the dance. Which was honestly very easy for him, the guy is a natural at almost everything, fucking figures he can dance. It made you a bit jealous how good he effortlessly was.

Bakugo did nothing half-assed, this was no exception. As the routine progressed, he loosened up more, almost enjoying the exercise, wouldn’t admit it though, he’s very adamant about making this seem like a chore even though he relished in that bright smile of yours. Tsundere headass.

The recording went by without a hitch, Katsuki putting his all into the choreography and slipping you a few gentle caresses here and there. Overall, the cheeky grin on your face made it worth the trouble.

He spurned posting the video on his account, so it ended up being posted on yours, you had a decent following and in minutes the #MiniSplosion was trending. 

Even he couldn’t deny the wave of pride that puffed up his chest, reading the influx of comments bleeding in. He loved showing you off, but his position made it damn near impossible to do that. He wanted to protect you, he figured after this he’d just have to work harder to keep his family safe.

You totally teased him about being a softie on the inside, but you didn’t push it too much, not wanting to tarnish the mood. He’d reply back with some empty remark but the soft tug at his lips, the tenderness in his stare and absence of his usual frown betrayed him, god he was such a sap for you. Pulling you in for an abnormally sweet peck, vastly different from his usual ferocious, passion filled kisses, he flicked your forehead and muttered, “You happy now?”

The surmounting adoration in his heart partially scared him, he couldn’t believe he fell that hard for someone. Yet he wouldn’t have it any other way, he couldn’t even imagine the idea of being without you, without his daughter. He was lucky to land himself such a strong, patient and kind partner, one that would stick it out with him through the end, and now he was undoubtedly going to flaunt it.

@Ground_Zero: My babygirls <3

...

Let’s just say it didn’t take long for #SoftGroundZero to go viral too.

[rainy-day-gracie]

Old Friends 4

Spencer Reid x reader

This chapter includes more of Reader’s backstory, I included a brother, but if you don’t have a brother... just do whatever you want. More fluff!!

Enjoy :)

Chapter 5 has been posted!!

Chapter 4:

“C’mon, smarty pants! We can do it!” I was practically yelling in between pants and heaves. “So close!”

“I hate you so much,” I heard him wheeze. 

I was the only one in the world that could convince Spencer to go on a jog through the city, and I think he was regretting that decision severely. “Do it for donuts!” 

When we finally reached our end destination, he practically collapsed onto a nearby bench, his chest heaving up and down. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked with a smile. “We’re close to the cafe and the subway, so we won’t even have to walk that far.”

“For the record, it definitely was that bad, YFN. Don’t try and sugar coat it.” 

I grabbed his wrist and pulled him off the bench. “We need carbs, right now. Carbs covered in chocolate and sprinkles, let’s go.” 

He groaned and followed me into the cafe. “Where will we get changed into work clothes?” 

“They have bathrooms at the BAU. Stop whining-“ I stopped talking as soon as I saw who was in front of me. 

Morgan looked just as surprised to see us, sweaty, tired, and together, at 7:30 in the morning. His surprised look quickly changed into an amused one, and Morgan started chuckling. “Well, hello, lovebirds.” 

“Hello, Morgan,” I said, feeling like I was caught. But we weren’t, right? We’re not dating, and all we did was go for a jog together. “Um, good morning.” 

I could feel Spencer’s nervous energy rolling off of him. “Hey, Morgan.” 

Morgan gave one last chuckle, and left the cafe without another word. Through the window I could see him pulling out his phone. There was nothing we could do about it now. 

It was only our luck. I chuckled slightly at the thought, and turned to the cashier. “Four chocolate covered donuts with sprinkles, an unsweetened iced tea, and a large coffee with lots of milk and sugar please.”

---

I sat at my desk, trying not to laugh at how Spencer winced every time he had to move his legs. Morgan kept looking over at us and chuckling. 

I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t a big deal. No matter what happens, we’re still old friends. We aren’t dating, and a jog in the early morning together isn’t exactly romantic. 

During our lunch break, JJ came up to me. “Why is Morgan giggling like a four year old?” 

“Well, Spencer and I went on a jog together this morning. We went to a cafe after and Morgan was there also.” I explained in a low voice. “He’s now convinced we were on some kind of date, which we weren’t.” 

JJ looked dumbfounded. “Spence must care about you more than we thought. No one’s ever been able to get him to go on a jog before.” 

I laughed. “Well, I think he now hates me for it so-“ 

“Hello, wonderful people!” Garcia called from the railing. “We have a case!”

---

“First victim, Bethany Conlin, was found beaten to death just outside of a small town, Pagosa Springs, Colorado.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Pagosa Springs?”

Garcia looked confused. “Yeah, What is it?”

“Oh um, nothing, it’s just my hometown.” Not much of a home anymore. 

“Oh cool! Anyways, a second victim, Cassie Holloway, was found by some hikers by a commonly traveled trail in the woods. Also beaten to death.”

I tried to keep tears out of my eyes. Cassie? 

The team quickly talked over theories for a profile. The only thing I heard was, “Wheels up in 30.”

Before we left, Spencer and Morgan both pulled me aside. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked quietly. 

“You could barely keep it together in there.” Morgan added. 

I took a deep breath. “Cassie... She was my best friend until I moved away. She was the sweetest...” I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. “And she was murdered.”

They were both silent. 

I opened my eyes, anger replacing my sadness. “Let’s catch this son of a bitch.”

---

Hotch gave assignments on the jet. “Rossi, Reid, YLN, go to the ME to find out what you can about the bodies. Morgan, JJ, you guys go to the dump sites. Prentiss and I will interview the families.”

“Actually, Hotch,” I interjected. “Could I possibly interview the families? Um... Cassie Holloway was my good friend, and I’m from Pagosa Springs.” I looked down at the file in my lap. Cassie’s file.

Hotch considered it. “That would be alright. They might share more with you if they already know you. And YLN?”

“Yes?” 

“I’m sorry for your friend.”

---

Cassie’s parents looked exactly the same as they did when we were 10. Her mom had dark red hair, and her dad was bald. I used to think they looked scary, but now they just looked sad. 

I cleared my throat when I walked into the room. “Um, Mr. and Mrs. Holloway? I don’t know if you remember me but-“

Her mother gasped. “YFN? Is that you?”

I gave a small smile. “Yes, I’m here to catch Cassie’s killer. Um, have you seen her recently?”

Her father sniffled. “We saw her two days ago. We had dinner together, and... she was fine.” He erupted into a fit of tears. 

It hurt me in my chest to see this kind man that had practically raised me until I was twelve so broken up like this. “Did she mention anyone that had bothered her? Or someone she might’ve rejected? I know she’s a local bartender, maybe someone there?”

Her mother shook her head, rubbing her husband’s back. “You know Cassie... everyone loved her.” 

It was true. Cassie was one of the kindest souls I’ve ever come across. “One last question... does she know Bethany Conlin?”

Both of her parents looked at each other, then back at me. “Yes,” her mother breathed. “They were sorority sisters together in college.”

---

“Hotch!” I called across the station. “Bethany and Cassie were sorority sisters in college. They both went to Colorado State, they hadn’t spoken in a couple years, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that they both ended up dead in a week's period.” 

“This makes it highly likely that whoever is doing this went to college with them.” Hotch pulled out his phone. 

“What do you need, bossman?” Garcia called over speakerphone. 

“Garcia, Bethany and Cassie were sorority sisters in college. Can you find any incidents with the two of them that stand out or could be a motive?” I didn’t realize how fast my heart was beating until I stopped talking. 

“Hmmm... nothing jumps out, but I’m going to investigate further! Goodbye, my lovelies!” 

As soon as we hung up, the local sheriff approached us. “We just got an anonymous tip saying a third body would be found in an old abandoned bar on the edge of town,” the sheriff paused, and looked at me. “The caller said you had to be the one to find it first. Otherwise, and I quote, ‘there will be more than beaten bones next time’.”

I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

---

The abandoned bar smelled like stale beer and mildew. I felt an odd chill when I entered the door, Hotch and Emily waiting outside. 

Pulling out a flashlight, the eerie bar creaked with every step I took. It wasn’t until I saw the pair of feet lying on the ground that made me stop, the bar falling silent. 

Slowly rounding the corner, I saw the torn clothing and broken body of a young man, probably the same age as me. I looked at his pale hands, and then I saw the ring. A plain gold ring that read ‘be strong for me’. 

“Oh my god,” I whispered. 

My feet couldn’t carry me fast enough out of that bar. I ran outside, desperate for fresh air, and I heard shouts calling after me. 

“YLN!” Prentiss chased me until I stopped to lean against the car, my head in my hands. “Hey, you’re hyperventilating!”

I slowed down my breathing enough to gasp a few words. “The body... a ring... my fault... oh my god, this is my fault!”

Prentiss pried my hands away from my face. “What is happening?” 

“The body,” I gasped. “He was my brother... and I know who did this.”

--- 

The team all gathered at the station. I hadn’t spoken to anyone yet except for Hotch and Prentiss, and after hearing my story, they didn’t have any doubts about who it was either.

Spencer walked into the quiet room the police had given us, looking at me with a worried face. I nodded at him, just to say it was going to be okay. 

“Growing up, my father owned a large share of an oil company. When he died when I was very young, he left my mom everything he owned, which was a lot.” I thought back to when Mom first got the call about the car accident. My dad and his mistress were killed on impact. “We moved here to Pagosa Springs, a fresh start. But my mom was so upset about my dad’s death that she started drinking. Excessively.” 

I took a deep breath. “She would scream and shout and disappear for days at a time. We’re twins, my brother and I. We were eleven. I was about to graduate high school at a very young age and I didn’t know what to do. When I went off to college for the first few years and stayed with my aunt, my brother would call me every time Mom was off drinking. When he was a teen, he got into drugs and pills and anything he could get his hands on. And I wasn’t there to help him.”

“But Cassie was.” Hotch guessed. 

“Yeah, she's the reason my brother got clean. They fell in love and both went to Colorado State together. She gave him a ring to wear whenever he started to have cravings again. One time, Cassie called me when I was at MIT, saying her friend, Bethany, was raped and couldn’t go to the police because her parents would stop paying her tuition for ‘causing a scene’... she said my brother, YBN...” my voice broke for the first time. “She said YBN beat the crap out of Bethany’s rapist. His name is Kenny Rogers, and from what I’ve heard, he was a sketchy dude with a massive temper even back then.” I closed my eyes. “Anyway, that’s most likely who our unsub is.” 

“You’re YBN’s sister,” Spencer said. “After having his ego blown massively, Kenny probably carried that hatred for anyone that was related to YBN. And YFN has been in newspapers, articles, even on TV. Something probably caused Kenny to snap recently, his trigger, and he felt the need to hurt YFN somehow to really get back at YBN.”

Hotch called Garcia. “Garcia, we need all addresses on a Kenny Rogers.” 

---

Kenny Rogers was guilty. No doubt. When the team went to his place, they found pictures of all the victims and Kenny tried to run whenever they broke down the door. 

I stayed behind at the station. I couldn’t trust myself to not shoot Kenny on sight for what he had done. 

“Hey, Hotch?” I asked when they got back. “Could I take a few days off? To take care of things...with my brother?” 

Hotch gave me a pat on my shoulder. “Take as much time as you need, just let me know when you’re coming back.” 

“Of course sir, and thank you.”

I made sure to pull Spencer aside before he left. “Thanks for... um, helping me explain... earlier. I was worried they wouldn’t think it was connected, and you already knew all that stuff about my childhood.”

“Of course, you know I would do anything for you.” Spencer stood there for a minute, then suddenly embraced me tightly in a hug. That wasn’t something he did very often, or at all. “I just...” 

I chuckled slightly, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I know, Spencer.” 

---

After the team took off on the jet, I checked into the local hotel. It was nice and rustic, homey. 

I called Spencer when I had settled in. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked. “The team seems to be getting more and more impressed by you with each case.” 

I gave a snort. “Well, that’s a relief. I was scared after my life story they would see me as some kind of kicked puppy. And, I’m okay Spencer. At least, I’m going to be.”

“What will you do about your brother?”

I felt a melancholy smile on my lips, playing with the loose threads on the blanket. “He’s been cremated, and tomorrow I’m scattering his ashes in the mountains. It’s what he always wanted. I hadn’t spoken to him in years, but he always wanted to come back home, and I couldn’t wait to get away.” 

Spencer was quiet for a while. “Hey, YFN, I just wanna tell you... you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You went off to college and still took care of your brother at age twelve, you took a gap year to take care of your sick mom, and in your first few months at the BAU you’ve been able to impress every single team member... and they aren’t easily impressed.”

Happy tears pricked my eyes. “Well, um... that was one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever said to me. And Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you... so much.”

Spencer cleared his throat, like he was debating about saying something. “Um, YFN?”

“What is it?”

His voice lowered, like he didn’t want the team to hear. “In college, I... I was wanting to propose to you.”

My heart seemed to flutter and butterflies pounded in my chest. “Um... you’ve never told me that before. Why didn’t you... do it?”

He thought for a few moments. “Well, you were going to take care of your mom, and I was going to the FBI academy... also, I didn’t think you would say yes.”

“Wow... um, I don’t really know what to say.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

I gave a slight giggle. “You, speechless? I never would’ve guessed.”

Spencer laughed. “Well, goodnight, YFN. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

[queenk00k]

but what if we were pure gold all along? jj maybank (chapter 1)

Summary: After the assumed death of their best friend, the Pogues are falling apart at the seams. With Pope and Kiara getting closer and JJ left with nowhere to go, he finds himself left to his own devices. Feeling lost and rejected, his luck seems to turn when he meets Scarlett - a Kook who doesn’t treat him like shit and has an affinity for partying. JJ gets sucked into her world as she promises to help him forget.

How much longer can he keep running from his demons? And what happens when he starts sharing a bed with one?

Warnings: depictions of violence, child abuse, angst, sexual content, drug use, underage drinking.

Author’s note: Hi all, this is my multi-chapter fic I’ve been working on. My oneshots & Rafe series have taken off so I thought it was time to share this one too. Let me know what you think!

Word count: 1.7K

READ THE PROLOGUE HERE

the one where pogue promises are bullshit

“You mean she can’t hang out with us at all?” JJ asks Pope over cereal late the next morning. It feels almost insulting to John B to be doing something so irritatingly normal but hey, a boy’s gotta eat and he sure as shit won’t be getting breakfast at home.

“Nope. Parents got her on lockdown,” Pope answers solemnly. “They freaked out after the whole running from the cops thing. Not to mention, they’re not keen on Kie ending up like…” Pope trails off as JJ looks up at him sharply.

“They could still be alive man. We don’t know.”

JJ’s sure Pope looks at him with pity as he replies, “Maybe. But I mean, JJ, the Phantom in that storm…Shoupe said it himself, they took an open boat into a tropical depression. I just don’t see how they could still be a-alive.” Pope chokes on the word alive as if it were poison and he sucks in a deep breath as tears fall down his cheeks and JJ can’t take it anymore. He pushes back his chair, the metal legs scraping against the floorboards as JJ rises from the table abruptly.

“I’m going out,” he says as he feels the walls closing in and he just needs to get outside before its too overwhelming and goddamnit he’s sick of crying, will it stop sometime soon?

“JJ-“ Pope starts to rise from his chair but JJ waves a hand at him to sit back down, not looking directly at Pope in case, God forbid, he sees just how broken JJ feels.

“Nah man, it’s fine. I just need some weed. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, JJ makes his way out the front door alone, his feet heavy and his heart heavier still.

JJ’s been staying at Pope’s house for a week now and he can’t help but think he’s the only one struggling. He still hasn’t seen or spoken to Kie who, according to Pope, is still on strict lockdown, and Pope has thrown himself into studying and finding loopholes for other scholarships that would let him interview. This leaves JJ with not much to do but wander aimlessly, not going too far just in case his dad decides to come looking for him.

Pope joins him on the back porch one night where, despite strict orders from Heyward to not get up to any mischief in his house, JJ is surreptitiously pulling on a joint, the smoke curling outwards into the un-seasonally cool evening.  

“Mind if I take a hit?”

Lost in his thoughts, JJ jumps at the unexpected interruption. “Shit man, you scared me. Sorry, I know your dad said not to get up to anything but I just feel like garbage and –“

“Nah, I know. I get it. Pass it here,” Pope replies, sitting down next to JJ on the worn steps. JJ passes him the blunt, the corner of his eyes crinkling in a rare smile.

“Coming back to the dark side, are you?” After Pope’s outburst around the time John B and Sarah went missing, he vowed not to get like that again.

Pope coughed as he blew out the smoke. “Ha, no. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

JJ takes the used stub and crushes it under his boot. “Uh oh. That’s never good.”

“It’s fine. More than fine. They’re letting me interview for the scholarship position again.”

“You’re kidding. Bro, that’s awesome,” JJ replies sincerely, clapping his calloused hand on Pope’s shoulder. “I mean it. Good for you. How did you manage to convince them?’

Pope smiles at him. “I told them about John B and Sarah. They figured two friends going missing at sea counted as ‘extenuating circumstances’.”

“Extenuating?”

“Means they agree it was fucked up and they’re letting me off the hook.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s great man.” JJ smiles. “Why did you want to talk to me about it this way?”

Pope sighs. “I’m just preparing you. I’m gonna be pretty busy trying to figure out how to answer their questions. I wanted you to know now so you don’t think I’m trying to ditch you.”

JJ nods solemnly. “I appreciate it. Thanks.”

Pope stares at him for a moment. “Do you think your dad is gonna come looking for you?”

“I don’t think he’ll try anything with your dad around.” JJ scoffs. “I’m pretty sure he was always scared of him.”

Pope nods and before he gets a chance to reply, his phone lights up with a new text and he steals a glance. JJ is sure he looks happy about whatever it was.

“Hey, I gotta head out and pick my dad up. Are you good here?”

“Yeah man, I’ll see you later.”

Pope claps him on the back as he bounds down the steps and in the darkness, leaving JJ alone to battle with his conflicting emotions.

On one hand, he’s overjoyed at the prospect of at least one of them having a decent future, considering his was pretty shot to bits and he had no idea what Kie was thinking, but on the other hand…on the other hand, JJ couldn’t help but feel jealous and a little hurt that Pope had something else to focus on other than the fact that one of his best friends was dead.

JJ remains sitting outside for longer than he realises, contemplating rolling another joint to keep him company and scuffing his boot in the dirt, willing himself to stop feeling so fucking emotional all the time.

__

After a while, JJ is brought out of his own head a second time as the sound of the front door closing causes him to jerk his head up.

JJ stands and makes his way through the back door, stopping abruptly when he realises he can hear Pope’s parents voices, but not Pope himself.

JJ gets the sinking feeling that Pope was lying to him, and he edges forward to make out what the hushed voices were arguing about.

“….and the longer he’s here, the more danger we’re putting our son in.”

“What do you suggest we do then? You know we can’t let him go back home. That boat was his father’s and I know what Luke is capable of. I’m worried for the boy.”

“He can’t stay here…”

“Last time I checked, Luke was scared shitless of me and-“

“You’re not 30 anymore baby, and he’s unpredictable - he could have a gun. JJ needs to leave, go into foster care or something, but he’s not staying here whilst we risk our family.”

A loud, resigned sigh. “Fine, I’ll talk to the boy.”

JJ’s heart races and he breathes heavily, nostrils flared and hands curled into fists. He turns slowly towards the back door, opening it quietly, praying that Pope’s parents don’t hear him leaving, their words echoing in his ears.

“…the longer he’s here, the more danger we’re putting our son in.”

“He can’t stay here…”

“…he needs to leave…”

JJ kicks the wheelbarrow as he crosses the yard, out of anger or fear he’s not quite sure, and ignores the searing pain in his foot. He was used to feeling like a burden, so why did this hurt so much? He wanted to be angry at Pope’s family, and he figured he was a little bit, but he also understood. He wouldn’t want to put Pope in any more danger than he already had.

JJ rounds the corner and runs straight into Pope, who has the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself. JJ can’t help himself as he narrows his eyes.

“Picking your dad up, huh? What were you really up to?”

Pope opens his mouth to stammer out a response but before he can come up with another excuse, JJ notices something in the glow of the street light.

JJ curses and moves Pope’s collar to reveal a dark purple bruise. Pope’s eyes widen as he steps back, faltering under JJ’s cool gaze.

“Is that a hickey?” JJ manages to ask through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching. “Have you been sneaking off to see Kiara?” JJ’s angry, sure, but he’s also hurt because why doesn’t Kiara want to see him and why is Pope lying to him and why does nobody want him?

Pope clears his throat. “I’m sorry man, we’ve just started going out and she needs me and-“

“You’re going out now?”

“I mean yeah, she did kiss me and everything and it just kind of escalated from there-“

“And what about ‘she needs me?’ What about me, bro? What happened to us Pogues sticking together?”

“JJ, I’m sorry man, Kie’s parents don’t want her seeing you and I don’t want her getting into any more trouble-“

JJ interrupts again as he shoves Pope away from him, his blue eyes icy as he struggles to contain his anger. “Yeah man, whatever, I get it.”

JJ stalks past Pope, muttering “unbelievable” under his breath and heading straight for his bike.

“JJ, please,” Pope starts but JJ holds up a hand to silence him, as he hops on his bike and speeds away without looking back.

Pogues don’t leave each other behind, huh? Bullshit, he thinks as he speeds away.

__

JJ finds his way to The Chateau without even thinking, almost as if muscle memory brought him here. He stops his bike out front and heads inside, smiling tersely at the fondness he feels for the place. When his own home wasn’t safe enough, which was often, he felt most at home here with his friends, stealing food from John B and crashing on the futon after keggers.

His throat burns at the thought of John B, at the thought of the Pogues, at the thought of the fact that Pope’s been screwing Kiara and lying to him about it and why the hell is that their priority right now?

JJ walks slowly down the hallway, noticing how the place has been completely trashed and stripped bare thanks to those square groupers and now the cops. God, all of that seems like centuries ago. How did they manage to end up here?

JJ barely makes it to the back of the house before a familiar voice makes him stop in his tracks and his blood run cold.

“Boy, if you’re in here I swear to God I’m going to kill you!”

JJ gulps.

Looks like dad came looking for me after all.

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[marjansmarwani]

Secret Smiles 

[Ao3 Link]

Characters: Paul Strickland & TK Strand

Word Count: 2203

Paul knows TK is hiding something. He even knows that it has to do with a mystery man he's seeing, but he cannot figure it out past that. Until a night at a bar when a certain officer of the law shows up, that it.

This one was taken from one of @lauraperfectinsanity‘s Tarlos prompts (it’s number 2). I changed it a bit, but I think it’s still pretty close to the spirit of the thing, which was Paul figuring out that TK is secretly seeing Carlos. 

------

Paul hated not knowing things.

Knowing things was kind of, well, his thing. Often it meant situations; who did what and what caused that. Sometimes it was just simply facts – he can’t help that he was a voracious reader with a memory like a steel trap. But it also meant people, and his friends and teammates were certainly included in that.

When he first started at the 126, Paul had been on his guard. Each of his new teammates had been subject to his own threat assessment. His brother had always chided him for it – telling him he needed to have more faith in people. But faith in people could get you hurt, so Paul instead chose to be strategic. He decided who it was safe to share information with and how much detail each person could be entrusted with.

It wasn’t easy, but it had kept him safe.

So, he examined and observed each member of his new crew in turn. Captain Strand and TK had been first, and he began his analysis the moment he entered the room for his interview. He quickly deduced that the Captain was sincere, that he harbored Paul no ill-will. TK was quiet during the interview, but when he mentioned identifying the people who wanted to hurt him before they did, he noticed a small smile that spoke of understanding and comradery. Paul allowed himself to relax – neither of these men were a threat to him. In fact, TK Strand might just be a kindred spirit – someone else who had faced hate because of who they were. In the end, it’s a large part of the reason he accepts the Captain’s offer – he knows that he will have allies in this journey; he won’t have to fight this particular battle alone.

The rest of the crew is easy to read, and soon he feels comfortable; at home. Within the walls of the firehouse things are safe, he can let his guard down. Not that there is too much to analyze anyways. The general rule is openness: they’re a family, they tell each other things.

Which is why he almost doesn’t realize TK is hiding something, at first. He’s not sure exactly when he notices but once he does, he picks up little hints everywhere. Maybe it was the first time he heard him abruptly change the subject. Or the time he noticed that the tale he told Judd about how he had spent his night off and what he told Marjan were slightly different. There were small inconsistencies in the details. In Paul’s experience, that usually meant it was a lie.

First, Paul is concerned. He can’t help but wonder if TK is in some sort of trouble, if there is something wrong that he doesn’t want to share with the rest of the team. So he watches, looking for signs of trouble and quickly comes to a very different conclusion: TK has a secret boyfriend.

It’s glaringly obvious once he knows to look for the signs: secretive texting under the table, small smiles when he checks his phone, late-night phone calls when he thinks everyone else is asleep. All the times that he disappears when they go out as a group, or when he makes excuses and doesn’t come out at all – especially when he is far too tired the next day to have actually gone home to sleep as he claims to have done.

He has a secret boyfriend, that part is obvious. What’s not obvious is why this is a secret. TK doesn’t generally come off as a secretive person. He knows it’s not an issue about coming out – TK is very open about his sexuality. Maybe the other man is not fully out? Maybe it’s someone TK feels like he shouldn’t be dating (Paul can’t imagine why that would even be a thing, but stranger things have happened, he supposed).

It wasn’t until a few weeks later and a conversation in the gym that Paul finally got an answer. He was stressed and anxious and feeling very out of his comfort zone with this whole Josie thing, and he hadn’t meant to snap at TK. But he was frustrated, and he took it out on his friend – his friend who was being a hypocrite because he was seeing someone and not shouting to the world about it yet here he was lecturing Paul about taking risks, about putting himself out there. He snaps out the jab about what TK would know about rejection without even thinking. He regrets it instantly – it wasn’t fair. He didn’t know what TK’s experience with coming out was. He didn’t know anything about his history. But it’s out there and he can’t take it back.  

TK’s answer, when it came, surprised him. He sat up and fiddled with his necklace as he spoke, “116 days ago, when I asked my soul mate to marry me and he moved in with his trainer instead.”

Paul froze, for just a moment. He wasn’t even sure how to respond to that, how to acknowledge the level of vulnerability TK had just shown. “That’s rough,” he settled on, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” TK agreed grimly, “that was not my best day.”

The conversation moved on and TK gave him some surprisingly sage advice. Paul took that advice, but he also took some answers. One: TK had been burned by love and was probably hesitant about diving back in. Two: there was more to the story than he had shared. The fact that he knew exactly how many days it had been showed that in spades. Maybe, Paul reasoned, TK didn’t want to share this relationship because he was scared. Maybe he wasn’t ready to take that step, to make things official. Given what he had just learned – and what he assumed, Paul couldn’t blame him.

That didn’t mean that he stopped trying to solve the mystery anyways. Partly because it was just what he did, and partly because TK was his friend and he wanted to make sure that whoever this mystery man was, they were not someone who was going to break TK’s too big heart again. He was more subtle about it – never asking any blunt questions or drawing conclusions. He simply watches and observes.

He’s watching one night when they are all at the bar and Officer Reyes meets them at Michelle’s insistence.  He almost doesn’t notice at first. They are good at hiding it – far too practiced in the art of not drawing attention to their closeness. But there are still tells, little, unconscious things that they do. The things they probably can’t even help. The private glances when someone makes a joke, the small smiles. The hands that linger when they cross paths – the fact that they cross paths more often than is strictly necessary. It’s almost as if there is a magnetic pull between them and they are unable to stay more than an arm’s length apart. As he watches, TK crosses to the bar for another round, slipping behind Carlos, laying a hand on his hip as he passes. Carlos glances over his shoulder at him and gives him a smile that is far from casual.

Oh. Oh.

The realization hits him suddenly. He takes a sudden sharp intake of breath and somehow TK hears and turns towards him. Their eyes meet and Paul can tell that TK knows he knows. His eyes widen in panic and he slips away, heading not for the bar, but to the door. Paul sets his glass down, makes an excuse he doesn’t think anyone even hears and follows him. He finds him outside leaning on the railing of the porch, hands clasping the railing so tightly his knuckles shine white in the dim lighting. He comes to a stop next to his friend and waits for the other man to speak.

“You know,” TK says lowly, bluntly.

Paul nods, “Just figured it out.”

He waits, but TK doesn’t say any more, so he continues, “Is there a reason you don’t want anyone to know?”

TK sighs, releasing one hand from the railing to run it down his face anxiously, “No, not really,” he says uncertainly. “It’s not like we're not both single and out. Christ, we don’t even work together – there is no actual reason to keep it a secret.”

“Then why do you?”

“I don’t know.”

Paul scoffs, “Yeah, you do.”

TK glares at him and Paul raises an eyebrow. TK rolls his eyes but concedes his point, “Okay fine, I do.”

Paul waits, allowing TK the time he needs to gather his thoughts. The sounds from the bar drift through the windows, fighting for dominance with the sound of the crickets surrounding them. When TK’s voice breaks the silence, it nearly startles Paul.

“You remember how I mentioned that my last relationship ended badly, right?”

Paul made a sound of affirmation and TK continued, “I just…I wasn’t ready to jump into another relationship so soon. I was pretty sure I was never going to be ready to jump into another relationship again, actually. This thing, with Carlos, started as a hookup. I figured it would be a one-night stand, we’d both burn up some energy and frustration and move on, but he was stubborn. He wanted more and he pushed. I tried to resist, tried to stay away, but I couldn’t. Now, here we are – and I’m even sure where exactly here is.”

Paul studied his friend. His expression was tense, but even in just speaking about Carlos, his body language had relaxed. He may claim that he didn’t know what they were, but Paul would put good money on how exactly TK felt for the officer.

“Is that why you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked instead.

TK nodded, “I don’t really know what to tell, but there is also this part of me that just feels like once it’s out there – once it is no longer ours – I won’t have control of it anymore, and I won’t be able to deny what it is. I’m just…not sure I’m ready for that yet.”

Paul took a step closer and leaned on the railing next to TK. He chose his next words carefully, “I’m not going to tell you what to do or what to feel, but from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re already there, and I think that’s a good thing. You seem lighter when he’s around, even when you’re just talking about him. You care about him and if I had to make a bet, I’d bet he cares about you to. So, I’m not going to say you have to make a big announcement or anything, but maybe just keep that in mind. Maybe start letting go of the reins, just a bit and see what happens.”

TK turned to face him and raised an eyebrow, “is there where you tell me something about nothing that is important is without risk or something?”

Paul scoffed, “Nah man, I don’t do clichés.”

TK laughed lightly, and Paul continued, “I’m just saying, maybe see where this goes. I don’t know Officer Reyes that well, but I don’t think he’s a bad guy and I know he doesn’t want to hurt you. It’s going to be scary, but maybe let it play out. Besides, if the worst does happen, you have people to lean on.”

It was quiet for a long moment before TK responded; his voice soft, “That was good advice.”

Paul nodded seriously, “I don’t do subpar advice. Besides, I owe you. You helped me out with the Josie thing, and that’s what family does, right? Look out for each other.”

TK turned again, a soft smile on his lips, “Yeah, I guess it does.”

They stood in companionable silence for a few more minutes before Paul spoke again, “So, do we wait and go in at separate times, or do we go in together? I’m new to this whole clandestine relationship stuff. I am not familiar with this life of intrigue and secrets you’ve been leading.”

TK rolled his eyes, “Stop exaggerating, we don’t need to hide anything. If people draw conclusions well, maybe a conclusion needed to be made.”

Paul raised an eyebrow at the implications, “are you saying you’re going to come clean? Tonight?” he shook his head, “Man, I know my advice is good, but I didn’t think it was that good.”  

“I’m saying,” TK said over him, “that maybe I should be a little more open. I feel bad lying to family, after all.”

“Do I get to say told you so?”

“You do not.”

Paul shrugged, “I’m going to anyway.”

TK shook his head and patted his shoulder before heading back into the bar. Paul smiled, and followed suit.

If for the rest of the night he noticed TK standing closer to Carlos, leaning into his space, giving him wide and open smiles, he said nothing. If the others started to notice as well and raised eyebrows before asking outright questions, that was really none of his business. He was content to quietly sip his drink and watch everything play out around him. When TK shot him a grateful smile as he grasped Carlos’s hand, he returned it.

Paul hated not knowing things. And this, this was a good thing to know.

Like it? Come leave a comment on Ao3!

[chrisevansbabymama]

Daddy Hair Care - Chapter 4.2

Here is the second instalment, at long last! Still using the same gif as the previous, as it’s still the same night. The more time I sat on this chapter, the more time I’ve had to tweak it and change it from the original draft, so it’s still slightly longer than usual - all 4,288 words, but I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for being so patient. 

_______

Chapter 4.1

Chapter 4.2 - He’s Just Not That Into You:

“I gotta say,” Chris said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, suddenly very coy.

It’d been a mere five minutes since they’d left the restaurant and were walking in the direction towards her house. They’d delved in and out of a couple of topics, including Mya and Dodger who Chris confessed to be missing, but was trying his best to not be on ‘daddy mode.’ Kayla found that so cute, and could see he had been honest when he’d said he wanted to get out more and put himself out there, it seemed his internal battle was learning to let go of his dependants. Whatever putting himself ‘out there’ meant for him, she supposed she could only be happy for him.

“Mmmh?” Kayla asked when the pause was a second too long.

“I’ve just...I’ve had a pretty good night tonight,”

Kayla pressed her lips together to hide a smile, her heart fluttering at the way he casually dropped the compliment. Here she was thinking that he would have given up anything to be anywhere else. His warm eyes met hers, but with the look he wore she could discern that there was more to it. She wasn’t going to interrogate him and make it awkward, if he wanted to, she was sure he would say it.

And she hadn’t been wrong about there being more to it; it was more of a feeling than Chris could put into words. It was a weird, funny feeling he felt; elation somewhat laced with anxiety. The good kind.

“It was nice to finally get out of my suite and do something that’s not work related, or taking the kids out,” he said, referring to his two kids – Mya and Dodger.

Then his stomach twisted as guilt washed over him for confessing that he enjoyed his time without them.

“It’s okay,” Kayla looked at him reassuringly. She could sense his aura change in the same way that her siblings’ would when they talked about finding space and a life outside of their kids. “To do things without them, you’re not neglecting them. Call it self-care,”

“Yes ma’am,” he nudged her gently with his elbow, relaxing at her encouragement.

Kayla was smiling too now but she looked ahead in the direction they were heading, “Y’say you had a good night as if you are surprised that I’m good company,”

“Not that, I wasn’t surprised,” he quickly corrected, appreciating the humour to lighten up the threatening sombre mood. “I just mean that I didn’t realise how busy the whole team was, that I never really got a chance to know you properly since you joined us,”

“Relax Hollywood, you’re sweating,”

As usual, comedy was her go-to defensive mechanism so that he couldn’t see the effect his words had on her, because she was more than flattered that he actually enjoyed being alone with her. At least that’s what she was going to take from his statement.

“You are right, I mean this whole thing took off so quickly for me, I haven’t even processed it,”

Kayla recalled to the day she got a call from his assistant Tiffany, asking if she was able to assist on a photo shoot the following day. His previous make-up artist had gone on maternity leave and he had been booked on a last minute cover shoot, so they needed someone to groom just for that one day. But a photo shoot turned into a contract for several projects, then she was hired on for the Lobby Hero and possibly Infinity War press; but the later was still TBC due to his conflicting schedule. She prayed that he was going to do a few rounds of press for it, otherwise her work with him was coming to an end in less than a couple of weeks.

Once he starts Lobby Hero, that was going to be it, and then he would start filming the last Avengers instalment not too long after. He had spoken about going to Boston in the small gap before filming. He was very much a family-oriented man, Kayla accepted the fact that once he was in Boston, he would shut the rest of the world out. Especially his Hollywood life; which she was a part of.

So yes, whilst he didn’t overtly say he only enjoyed spending time with her alone; Kayla convinced herself that he was implying just that, because it was probably the first and last time she would ever be alone with him like this.

Chris nodded, “It’s crazy, it’s such a fast-paced industry you never get a chance to slow down. I’m glad we got that tonight. You were pleasant enough,”

His devil may care tone at the last statement earned him a sharp glare and a heavy sigh, enough to make Chris retract.

“London, I’m joking,” he said quickly putting an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side.

He was incredibly tactile, this she had learnt very early on since the first time she worked with him; the hugs, the gentle touch on her upper arm when he was trying to squeeze past her, the tap against her leg when he was laughing hysterically. Her favourite touch was when he would gently squeeze or rub her shoulders on a long day of interviews. He would comfort her with a “almost there London,” as if she was the celebrity ready to retire from the repetitive questions.

So this was nothing.

It didn’t feel like nothing though. It felt nice. It felt like she belonged there, flush against him.  

When she didn’t respond he wrapped her in his arms in the biggest teddy bear hug he could muster, gently swaying her.

“Talk to me,” he sing-songed.

“Please say something,” he was starting to worry that he’d upset her. “I’m not used to you not having anything to say back,”

Kayla’s voice came out muffled as she breathed against his chest, “You’re so annoying!”

“There she is,” he finally laughed in relief, drawing back from the hug but still held onto her, this time he slid his hands down her arms until her held her hands, studying her but he failed to suss her out.

Please kiss me, she thought, glancing at his lips.

Chris considered it. She was only a few inches away, he could do it seamlessly if he wanted. But he didn’t know if she would like that. She looked away quickly before he could even suggest to her that he was going to kiss her.

But Kayla had only looked away because she noticed the make-up stain she’d left on his shirt when he’d squeezed her against his chest. Too embarrassed to confront it, despite her boldness towards him, she figured that some things were better left unsaid. If she brought attention to it, she knew he would be put off. He’d always been vocal about being a simple guy, liking his women natural - your girl next door type*. Hence why she’d gone for the ‘no make-up, make-up’ look tonight, to look as natural as she could for him.

Patriarchy 2 – 0 Kayla.

“Your hands are cold,” he said quietly deflecting the tension brewing from the assumed rejection, squeezing her hands gently but firm in an attempt to warm them up.

“Yeah,” she said distractedly, shaking off the thought of the very close encounter. “You were right, it’s cold,”

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he said shrugging his coat off and swung it around her, he held onto the lapel.

“I didn’t want you to say ‘I told you so,’” she pouted childishly. “You don’t have to do that Chris, you’re gonna get sick - that blazer is not gonna keep you warm. And we can’t have you sick and cancelling all your work commitments,”

“Maybe that’s the plan, I deserve some time off. A little flu never hurt anybody,” he shrugged with a wink.

“No seriously, Keith will kill me,”

He titled his head and studied her, before saying, “Why thank you Chris for this coat, you’re such a gentleman,”

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t sound like that,” and then laughed at his attempt at her voice, before finally accepting the coat and sliding her arms into the sleeves, letting out an earnest, “Thank you.”

“And now you can’t say I’m not a nice guy,”

“Wait, what?” Kayla laughed with uncertainty. “I have never said you’re not a nice guy,”

Chris smirked, giving her a side-glance that she couldn’t read, but one thing for sure was it was so sexy.

“I don’t know, sometimes I get a feeling that you hate me,”

“I don’t hate you, I just enjoy knocking you down a pedestal or two. Keeps you grounded,”

He smiled.

“Works like a charm,”

“Besides, if I hated it being on your team, I’d have left within a second, believe me,”

“Well, wouldn’t want that,” he commented, eyeing the coat on her before doing up the buttons that he had disregarded when he had been wearing it. “Want me to get you an Uber home?”

“No, unless I’m boring you?”

“Ha, never that,” he stuffed his hands back in his pockets and eyed the pavement as they paced in unison. “I was thinking that since you’re not going to die of hypothermia now that you have my coat, maybe we should do something spontaneous,”

Kayla eyed him suspiciously, frowning and raising a questioning eyebrow.

Chris looked at her nonchalantly, his eyes glazed with a mischievous shimmer.

“I’m worried,”

He laughed softly, “Nah it’ll be fun, nothing to worry about,”

“You’re making me nervous, how spontaneous? On a scale of 1-10?”

“Uhm...8...”

“Go on,” her tone was still doubtful.

“Let’s go catch a film,”

“I don’t understand,” she was dumbfounded.

“I really don’t wanna end the night,” coyness really suited him. He scratched the back of his neck nervously, his face turning a shade of pink again. “Remember when we were teenagers – well, I don’t know about you, but I used to sneak out at night and I’d always make sure I’d stay out as late as possible and make the most of it. I knew if my mom caught me out, I’d never be allowed again for a while…tonight’s kinda like that. But instead of my mom, work’s going to occupy my time and I might not get a chance to do this again until I finish Lobby Hero. So if you still care to spend the rest of the evening with me; what do you say we go watch a film?”

Kayla felt sad. His face was a shimmering look of hope, like a child asking to go to Disneyland; which was the source of her sadness. Why did going to the theatre excite him so much? Something so normal and regular to her, and took for granted, for Chris normalcy was a luxury, it seemed.

“Uhmm...I thought you said spontaneous,” there she was again with the humour, she cringed immediately, realising this wasn’t the time.

“Uhmm yeah it is, for me anyway....” he shrugged casually and looked ahead.

“Chris?” she wanted to ask him if he was okay. Maybe the magazine event he’d been too had been a negative reinforcement of the cons of his job, as he had mentioned earlier that he barely knew anyone there and had to endure it, in the name of good press.

“Mhhh?”

“Yes,” she said, she deflected. “I mean, yes, let’s go watch a film. I’m a little overdressed though,”

He smiled so brightly that her concern for his wellbeing vanished, “You sure?” she nodded. “Honey, we’ve both been overdressed since that restaurant,”

“Maybe I should go home and change my shoes and get my coat so you can have yours back,”

“Everything you just said defeats the whole ‘spontaneous’ part, I usually have to go to the theatre dressed in a hoodie and baseball cap. I go miles to be incognito, tonight, I’m living on the wild side,” he retrieved his phone from his trousers pocket. “I’m getting an Uber as we speak,”

Kayla considered this: never imagining the first time alone with Chris in a dark room would be in a movie theatre. She had to admit, it would be fun to sit in such a close proximity in the dark. They’d both missed their opportunity to kiss the other just several minutes ago; maybe fate was giving them another chance.

“ See anything you like, London?” Chris shifted from his window seat to the middle, minutes later as they sat in the back of the Uber exec. He held the phone so they could both see the movie listings.

If she was going to be honest, none of the films stood out for her but this wasn’t about her. So she looked on as he scrolled slowly, thinking more about her strategy on dealing with being in the dark lit room with him. What better way to get up close and personal than a film? It was the perfect set up for that missed kiss; she pictured it so vividly: his arm would surreptitiously snake around her shoulder as he pretended to yawn and disregard the film before making a move on her. She had seen this scene many times in films that she was even surprised Chris was going to be this predictable.

Annihilation, Irreplaceable You, Peter Rabbit, she read the listings…Fifty Shades Freed.

“Game Night?” he offered after several debates.

Kayla looked at the poster on his screen and glanced up at Chris, “So much for spontaneity, Chris no offence but if you were to die tonight and I was to read your eulogy about the very last film you saw, you want it to be this?”

“Whoa,” he was genuinely startled. “There’s a lot to unpack there. First of all...actually you are right. I told you I don’t get out much. And second, that’s so deep, why does someone have to die tonight?”

“You thought I was going to get hypothermia,”

“Are you suggesting we watch something a little steamy?” he cocked his eyebrows playfully and gave her a look that she recognised instantly. He was back in form. “Fifty Shades Freed? Is that what you want?”

Kayla shook her head with no witty comeback to rally with him.

“I haven’t seen the other ones,”

“I should hope so, not suitable for kids,”

“Game Night it is, only because you’re annoying me and I’m not gonna give you what you want,”

Chris ignored the double entrendre. Begrudgingly.

Kayla’s imagination has always been very active since her youth. She’d learned to be imaginative as a means to escape from a young age, hence why she has always gravitated towards creative subjects and eventually a career in the arts. When she’d imagined the exciting prospect of being alone in the dark with Chris, what was going to ensure seemed clearly written in the stars. Though a small part of her thought the idea was too far fetched, it became more promising when she realised that they were the only ones in the late showing of Game Night in the theatre.

The ticket purchasing was strategically planned to avoid Chris being spotted by any chance. Judging by how seamless every stage was, she became more optimistic that halfway through the movie he was going to make a move on her, like they did in the movies. She wondered if the sign would come when he either placed his bag of popcorn on the floor or on the seat next to him, yawn and sneakily wrap an arm around her shoulders. Then she imagined he would naturally whisper something in her ear, making her giggle before lifting her chin with his index finger and finally kissing her.

And so it happened:

Half way through the film, he placed his almost empty bag of popcorn on the floor and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Her heart was thudding, leg jiggling nervously, so she crossed them and tried to act normal, as if she didn’t even know what was happening. It was surreal, the adrenalin charged through her that she didn’t even know what to do anymore and feared she wouldn’t give him the kiss of her life.

So Lauren was right. He does like me, she thought, making a mental note to thank her and apologise profusely for dismissing her claims.

“Oh man,” he stifled a yawned and muttered under his breath, becoming increasingly restless.

Everything was going according to plan. And imagination.

A few seconds passed and she didn’t feel an arm on her shoulder, nor did he inch near her. Instead, he inched away, resting his elbow on the other armrest and his chin on his clenched fist. The arm around her shoulder never came. She kept her eyes glued on the screen, watching on in a haze, barely concentrating. She felt sick.

She’d done the calculations, and this wasn’t the outcome she expected.

But then again, Maths was never her strongest subject.

She soon realised he hadn’t been trying to flirt or intend to make a move on her. His eyes were shut and chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She watched him for a few seconds, thinking it was a sick twisted joke, maybe he would crack and burst out into a laugh, and yell “gotcha,” but he was actually in a deep sleep. He didn’t flinch or budge at the reverberating sounds throughout the rest of the film.

That’s when she knew that dream was over. There only so many disappointments one could take and keep sticking around with hope.

“Chris...Chris...” he heard her faint voice in the distance, ignoring it because he thought it was another one of his dreams where she made a regular appearance. He felt a hand on his shoulder, her voice speaking again. “C’mon, we have to go,”

“Hmmm?” He sat up, opening his eyes as they prickled from the glare from the screen ahead. He looked around and saw her. A delightful sight, even if it was slightly dim. “Kayla?”

“Good morning,” she laughed.

What a sound to wake up to, he thought.

“Morning?” he instantly panicked, his mind automatically thinking of Mya and Dodger.

“I’m joking, the movie’s finished. I didn’t wanna wake you up earlier, you looked really comfortable.”

“How much did I miss?”

“Like the last hour,”

“Fuck,” he sighed, pushing his hair back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d sleep,”

“It’s okay,”

“I can’t believe I made you come out to enjoy a movie by yourself,” he grimaced as he voiced his concern, cringing at the thought. “I’m really sorry, I owe you. So much for spontaneity huh? You should have left my ass.”

“Chris, relax. It’s fine; it’s been a long day for you. I sleep through a film all the time,” she waved a hand dismissively.

Still, he felt bad. He had wanted to spend the entire night in her company, (not even in a sexual kind of way) and he had jeopardised that.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said to quickly, avoiding eye contact. “Still half asleep,”

“Okay Sleeping Beauty, shall we go?”

“Let’s,”

The wait outside had been icy and awkward. On Kayla’s part, it was the affirmation that he wasn’t that into her, that kept playing on her. She didn’t know how to act around him anymore; scared to give too much of herself away, even though she was already in too deep with her feelings. She now had to negotiate a healthy balance between being herself, as always but not allowing him to sway her. Or flirt with him.

On Chris’ part, he felt like he had let her down; it wasn’t about the kiss – he didn’t suspect it, it was the fact that he had kept her out all night only to fall asleep. He wouldn’t even blame her if she was offended. He worried she would never subject herself to something like this again; imagining that she thought the worst of him. Had it been a date, would he have fallen asleep? Even worse, he felt embarrassed, and he couldn’t even figure out why. Maybe at the realisation that maybe his life was as boring as everyone was implying; so he asked himself, who would want to date that?

Chris insisted on ordering them an Uber each, but Kayla politely insisted she could get her own.  Being the chivalrous charmer he was, Chris didn’t back down easily, but Kayla took the initiative and just booked them both a ride. The drama was unnecessary, this was New York; right in the heart of Manhattan where taxis were aplenty.

But they’d both been cunning; using the Uber excuse to buy more time with each other. As if they had both accepted it was their last goodbye, a closure on the feelings they had harboured for each other. And maybe if they stuck it out a little longer, one of them would bite the bullet and make a move?

“I should give you this,” she said sliding off his coat. “Thank you for letting me wear it tonight,”

“Don’t do that,” he waved a hand. “Take it, it’s cold,”

“There’ll be a heater in the car, I’ll be fine Chris,”

He drew close to her again, politely putting it back on and redoing the buttons she had undone to give it back to him, “Keep it on,”

She sighed, giving in quickly, “Okay, I’ll bring it back on Monday,”

“Okay,” he could careless.

“Here goes your ride,” he squeezed her shoulders as the car pulled up in the waiting bay.

“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun. And thank you for the dinner, I owe you,”

“Yes, you do. You owe me that Pad Thai,” he winked playfully before hugging her briefly. “See you on Monday, London,”

He opened the door for her, guiding her in with his hand on the small of her back.

“Bye Chris,”

It wasn’t long before the car was circling Columbus Circle, routing back to home. Above all, albeit the anti-climactic theatre ordeal, she’d had a good night with Chris. Far beyond her expectations, so what was it going to hurt if they were only going to be friends?

It was all replaying like a movie reel; the laughter, the touches, the anecdotes and his scent. The way he set his eyes on. The way he listened when she spoke. His scent on her, she breathed it in – his coat a vivid reminder of him. A vivid reminder of the way he would wrap his muscled arms around her and never wanted him to let go.

She suddenly remembered the huge make-up stain she’d left on his shirt and cringed.

The moment was over.

She felt her phone vibrate in her bag; she had ignored it the entire night, never one to be glued to it when she was out. That was a lie, she used to be glued to it; always one to take pictures for Instagram until she got bored of over sharing and instead shared her work on it, occasionally peppering her feed with food snaps, selfies, with her family or a cheesy snap on holiday.

She wondered if Chris would follow her on Instagram…or if she had the balls to follow him first.

She took her phone out, her friend’s Instagram post notification the source of the vibration. She scrolled down on the notification centre, opting to read Lauren’s copious messages that she’d missed earlier on when Chris had joined her at the sushi place.

9:49pm

Lauren: Sorry babe, won’t be making it tonight. I’ve been regurgitating my guts all evening. Have fun.

Lies, Kayla thought, trusting Chris that she was probably entangled under the sheets somewhere with Seb.

9:50pm

Lauren: Oh yeah, I purposely forgot to ask Keith and Tiff to come along. Ooops.

9:54pm

Lauren: Because I lied, I’m not sick. I decided not to come, and thought I’d leave Tiff and Keith out of it too. I thought you kids needed the evening to yourselves and I didn’t want to play 3rd wheel tonight. I do it all the time, not doing it tonight. You kids have fun.

9:55

Lauren: So I hope your inadvertent date with Chris goes well.

10:35

Lauren: ....you’re welcome.

11:01

Lauren: No reply? I’m guessing you’re “playing hide the zucchini”? Thank me later.

11:01

Lauren: ps. safety first kids. Love ya xxx

She shook her head in disbelief; too tired to figure out whether she should be angry or laugh. It was less funny now that she knew for sure that Chris only had platonic feelings towards her. She now needed to speak to Lauren sometime in person, figure out a way to politely tell her to stop bringing Chris up. She needed the closure.

As if on cue, his name popped up on the banner of her screen; a strange sight and brand new occurrence. They had never directly communicated with each other via phone, even though they had each other’s numbers. It was always Lauren that organised non-work related occasions, and if it was to do with work, she dealt with Keith and Tiffany. Never him.

His very first text message to her said:

Chris: Let me know when you get in. Thank you again for tonight; I owe you big time, especially for falling asleep.

Kayla: Likewise. Honestly, don’t worry about it lol

She wanted to shut him down, be dismissive but subtle and polite. She wasn’t going to do this again.

Closure, closure, closure, she chanted in her head.

Chris: I insist. I’m a man of my word.

And just like that, her resolution to get over him disappeared. How could she?

_

Chapter 5

_______________

Disclaimer: Gif not my own

Tags: @thegirlwithpaperheart  @disaster-rose @youlifetime @mississippifangirl​ @thinemineours @tessathedragon @thottio​ @caninoona @eratotalles @allonszassbutt @thinemineours@dreamingwithmendes @void-imaginations​ @daybreak96​ @l-auteuse​ @cliffordasparagus @bumber-car-s @lvlyab@melaninmarvel @milkymil-k @dyckvandyke @prettymuchboodup  @i-fear-neither-death-nor-pain @the-doctors-fallen-angel @mariswritingforfun

[takemealivelh]

ONE NIGHT STAND - M.C.

PART 1 || PART 2

Part 3 || 2.7k | | Georgia works in the same hotel 5SOS is staying in. || Date and SMUT || FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED

Georgia applied the red-matter lipstick in front of the mirror, the same shade her toenails were painted. It was 4:49 PM. 

“I’ll send out a car to pick you up.” Michael had told her. “We’ll go out for a bite and a drink and then we’ll head to Wembley. That sound alright?”

Georgia had smiled big through the sleepiness in her face. “Sounds perfect.”

He’d kissed her cheek, close enough to the corner of her lips to make her stomach churn, and slipped a VIP pass between her hands. “I’ll see you later.” Then he’d headed out for his interviews. Georgia was left with a stupid grin on her lips and a throbbing between her legs that she couldn’t wait for it to be relieved that night.

She let her hair down. It was shorter than a few years ago. She looked radiant. The doorbell rang and she was out the door in the next minute.

The thought of seeing him again, close and all to herself without distractions, had her mind racing and her heart at peace. He had this wholesome energy all over him that was addictive, and Georgia wanted to sip it and let it simmer. 

-

“No way.” 

Michael stood up from the booth he had reserved that morning. They were in the same pub they had gone two years ago on their date. This time there was no football game so it wasn’t as crowded, or as loud.

“No way you brought me here.”

Georgia teased him back and kissed his cheek before he embraced her in a hug.

“You look amazing.”

“Stop drooling.” She smirked as they both took a seat in front of each other. 

It felt so nice to be complimented, and it felt so great to have the opportunity to get all dolled up for a special occasion. Since it was a concert they were going to afterwards, Georgia had settled on a pair of jeans and a white tee. She took off the black leather jacket and rested it on the empty spot next to her.

Michael looked a bit tired, but better than earlier that morning.

“You want a milkshake?”

“I normally would, but my uniform is feeling tight in some places so I guess I’ll just get a diet soda.”

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have ordered the fries?” He pointed to the plate that was barely touched, in the middle of the table. 

She laughed. Michael’s eyes crinkled up. He smiled big, grabbing a few fries and taking a bite.

“I’ll still dance a lot tonight so I guess that’s fine.” Georgia ate a few fries herself and glanced over at the menu that was next to the plate. “Besides, I heard sex is rather physical.”

Michael almost choked at her last words. They’d been barely muttered over her breath.

“Like you wouldn’t know.”

They both smirked at each other.

-

They laughed for what it felt ages. Until they couldn’t feel their cheeks. Until the tingling between their legs was unbearable. Their banter was intact, even better. Michael wondered how the fuck they had such great chemistry after not seeing each other for so long. It was so easy to talk to her. It was so comfortable to be around her. She was a beacon of light during the winter. Like a snowball fight or a fireplace in a cabin.

-

Straight from the pub, where Georgia insisted on splitting the bill -so she could feel like the grownup Michael had earlier claimed her to be-, a car picked them up to drive them to Wembley.

There, she finally met the rest of the band. They all made jokes about Michael being smitten all day. And how honoured they were that she finally decided to meet them.

“Two years ago you hated us.”

“We wanted to meet you and you rejected us before even meeting us.”

“That fucking hurt, Georgia.”

Michael rolled his eyes and put an arm around her shoulders, “you know they mock you because they like you, right?”

“Just like you do with me and just like I do with you.” She laughed.

The band loved her.

-

The set 5SOS played was powerful and all-too-excellent. They were passionate musicians that put hard work into their shows. The crowd was wild.

Georgia danced all the way through the fast songs until she felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. She was thankful for the ticket Michael had given her, right in his side of the stage in the barricade. He looked golden. He was a rock god.

-

She met him backstage after the show was over and the band took pictures with fans. She waited for him near the exit area, talking to some of the crew members about how great the show was and what were the best places in the city to do tours and go clubbing.

“What now?”

Michael appeared from behind her and touched the small of her back. Her knees weakened. 

Georgia spun till she was face to face with him. “Where do you have to go?” She asked.

The members of the crew she was talking to left them alone and Michael grabbed her waist, bringing her closer to his chest. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “just where you are. Not gonna lie, G. I need to have you right now.”

She bit her lower lip and held onto his biceps, feeling his breath grow shallow. “Let’s go back to my place.”

“Okay.”

-

Georgia unlocked the key to her apartment and as soon as they were inside, she turned on the lights and Michael closed the door behind him. His lips were on hers as fast as lightspeed. He thought that if he wasn’t so turned on by the gorgeous woman in front of him, he would actually take the time to have a look around her apartment, but he was desperate. He had spotted her a few times during the show. How long he had been able to keep it together was a mystery.

Last time, she had been the one in control and now Michael had grown into a more confident man. He cupped her ass with both hands and squeezed it. Her subtle gasp was only a sign to keep going. 

Through his eyelashes, he saw the pleasure in Georgia’s face. Parted lips, begging for more. “Take me...” she moaned when his hands wandered over the hem of her jeans, “to the bed.”

Michael looked around and saw a kitchen and a small living room area. That small distraction served as the perfect excuse for Georgia to attack his neck. That beautiful patch of skin she had missed oh-so-dearly. She kissed his jawline and sucked on the sweet spot she had discovered a few years back. Michael suppressed a moan and released it when she whispered, “let go.”

”You like this?” Georgia had asked him as she kissed his neck while straddling him on the motel bed. 

“I think you just found my weakness, G. It’s you. You’re my weakness.”

They both had laughed and then Georgia bit him a bit until he groaned out in pleasure.

She grabbed his hand and walked him through the only closed door in the small apartment. Sliding her hands under his jacket and peeling it off, it hit the floor. Michael gulped down at how perfect the whole moment was, how determined her hands were at getting him naked. But he wanted her naked, too. He wanted more control than what he’d had last time. His erection was painful through the fabric of his pants. And she looked absolutely delicious. Smeared lipstick, messy hair, few droplets of sweat rolling down along her hairline. He wanted to slurp all of her in.

“Strip.” He demanded before taking off his shirt and sitting on the bed.

Georgia smirked, biting down on her lower lip. “Okay.” The sight of his naked torso was too tempting not to sink into it. But his tone was demanding and she liked this newfound confidence. Sexy as hell.

She walked over to the sound system she had installed on her desk and pushed a button. “I need music, otherwise it’s just ridiculous.”

Michael laughed. His heart fluttered in his chest. Fuck. He really hoped he wasn’t falling for her. Leaving her last time was depressing enough.

Days went by slow and shows went by too fast. He was missing her, not only her body on top and under his, but her voice and her mind. He was missing her wit, her jokes. It’d taken him a while to get used to the fact that she had been a one-night-stand.

A sensual beat started playing and he was out of his head and into the moment. The way his lover pushed her hair behind her ears, ready to show her skills off struck him like lightning. 

Georgia noticed the change in his facial expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just take it all off. Please.”

She chuckled and took off her leather jacket. Then swayed her hips from one side to the other and undid the zipper of her pants. Georgia started singing along softly to the song, moving excruciatingly slow, accentuating every move she could repeat on top of him. Michael thought this was either the best thing that ever happened to him or the worst curse of all times. 

Her shoes were off and then her pants in a second. Georgia dropped low and raised back up to the beat.

“Enough, enough.” Michael’s skin was burning hot. It was almost embarrassing how little he could stay in his dom-behaviour. He needed to touch her. “This is too much. Come fuck me.” He begged from the bed, palming himself over his pants.

Georgia twirled around and gazed at him over her shoulder. Seeing the hunger in his eyes, his impatient movements, was ecstasy. She pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her only in her underwear. She wore a matching pair, red and black, that she had saved for an occasion like this. And thank god it was Michael who was making the most of it.

The undergarments highlighted the small of her waist and the roundness of her breasts and ass. Michael was one second away from pouncing on her. 

The song changed to an even slower rhythm and Michael thought he was going to cum right there in his pants. The view was too exquisite, even the friction he was giving himself through the material that covering his erection was enough. “Please,” his tone was whiny and needy. 

Georgia’s laugh was breathy, she could feel her underwear wet between her legs. Making her way towards him, she swatted his hands away softly and undid his pants for him. “You waited two years for this, I thought you wanted the show.” She teased.

“Forget it. Fuck it. I wanna be inside you.”

“Undress.”

Michael obeyed like a prey under her eyes. His movements were fast and clumsy, but effective enough to leave him naked in record time. His cock was up and proud. The most beautiful thing she’d ever seen through hooded eyes full of lust.

Never in a million years, Georgia thought she would have him again, begging.

Fuck me. Wreck me. Fuck me, G. Those had been the widely repeated phrases during that night. When she kissed his neck, when sank her nails on his biceps, when she bit his earlobe.

His lips captured hers in a heated kiss, his hands tugged at the hem of her underwear and a single finger travelled down to her core. “Shit, you’re soaking.”

“It’s what you do to me,” she moaned when Michael slipped his finger inside and teased her clit. Her voice mixed with the dirty sounds she made was heaven, and he couldn’t wait to hear more of her. Swiftly, he used his other hand to pull the panties down and Georgia kicked them off as she straddled him. His cock pressed against her bare stomach. 

Michael slipped a second finger to her core and used both of them to slide them inside her entrance, which caused her to release a groan. “Give it all to me,” he panted.

She used both of her hands to push his torso up and backwards, so they could lay on the bed properly. His fingers inside of her were driving her insane, and when he slipped a third one, she thought her eyes were going to leave her sockets. “Mmmm.”

Georgia made the prettiest sounds, the most beautiful faces. He couldn’t look away from her reactions. His cock was demanding attention but he needed to memorize every little detail of her pleasure. Michael pressed his thumb against her clit and her jaw dropped, causing her mouth to make an O-shape. She probably tasted like heaven, too. Her breasts looked amazing in her lingerie, but he needed to see the flesh behind the fabric. Needed to suck on those nipples he had missed so terribly.

As if she was reading his mind, with a moan, Georgia unclasped her bra and tossed it over to the side. Melting into him and kissing his neck. On the spot that drove him insane. His erection couldn’t take much longer. He was leaking. “G, please. Fuck me.”

She let out a whiny giggle against his skin and then kissed his collarbones. She moved the hand that was working her out of her core and she kissed the fingertips. Michael watched her in awe. She kept trailing kisses down his torso until reaching his erection. When she licked the precum, Michael jerked his hips and let out a loud groan. “Fuuuuck.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah...” his breath was shaky. His hands quickly found his way to grab her hair.

Georgia licked a long stripe from the base of his cock till the tip, which had Michael’s body trembling violently. He didn’t think he would last long, especially when her pretty mouth kissed him and licked him like that. Especially when she took him in so good and it felt like velvet around him.

“I... fuck, G... I’m gonna...”

Just when he was about to release, she stopped, and he thought it was the cruellest joke ever. But when he opened his eyes and saw her naked, dishevelled hair, lustful stare, Michael only wanted to be inside of her.

“I’m gonna go get a condom.” She announced, almost out of breath. 

Georgia kissed his lips passionately and stood from the bed. She could feel his eyes on her as she made her way to the bathroom attached to the bedroom and bent down to open the drawers where she kept condoms. 

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

Georgia’s face had been too close to his cock and Michael’s hands were sweaty with excitement and nervousness. He had almost choked at her question alone. So innocently frame behind that sweet tone to her voice, and those pretty eyes looking up at him.

When she sprang back up to go back to the bed, she found Michael, in his full naked splendour, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door. “Let me fuck you against the mirror. I wanna see you from every angle.”

“Kinky.” Georgia smirked and handed him the plastic.

“It’s like you’re surprised.” He laughed as he rolled the condom on himself.

Next thing she knew, Michael had her perched up against the sink, her back about five inches from the mirror and he was lining himself up to enter her.

“I have my own kinks.” Georgia panted as she looked into Michael’s eyes, feeling his presence against her soaking core.

“Tell me.” He said and immediately dipped the tip inside of her, causing both of them to moan.

“Choke me.”

“Whoa.” Michael’s smirk grew widely. “I can get behind that. Then I can get behind you.”

“Then you can eat me out.” Georgia groaned and spread her legs open before wrapping them around his waist, to guide him even deeper inside her. “Deal?”

Michael brought a hand to her neck, right under her chin and jawline. His mouth was almost watering at the sight and the feeling around his cock. “Deal,” he growled.

-

The End

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[machinequeen4]

Fic rec bingo list!

I thought I’d fill out this fic rec bingo card, posted by @lightveils on Twitter!

It sort of turned into the History of MachineQueen in Fanfiction. All you unsung heroes who write and publish fanfic, I love you and remember your names.

Recs for Fire Emblem Fates, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Yu-gi-oh, Doctor Who, RWBY, Ace Attorney, Tales of Graces follow!

1. A fic you love without knowing the source material

Undone - codenamecynic, Dragon Age II, E rated, Fenris/Female Hawke, multichap 135k words

https://archiveofourown.org/works/482156/chapters/838851

I know nothing about Dragon Age and can’t remember why I decided to read it. TV Tropes maybe?  From what I can tell it’s the events of the game with additional sex scenes. Hawke is witty, Fenris is a tragic broken bird, I was sold.

2. A fic with a premise that shouldn’t work but it does

Trial and Error - undieshogun, Fire Emblem Fates, T rated, Subaki/Takumi, multichap 15k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6890677/chapters/15719992

Not so much a premise but a ship I wasn’t convinced on. But it had Subaki in it so I gave it a try. It’s really cute - Subaki tries to teach Takumi social skills, much to his annoyance. 

This line alone is gold star characterisation:

"I couldn't tell you why Tsubaki has taken such a liking to you, but I do know that any time he wants to befriend someone, it's because he sees in them something he lacks."

3. A fic you’ve reread several times

Gratitude - GoldenThreads, Fire Emblem Three Houses, T rated, Hubert/Ferdinand, multichap 8k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344273/chapters/48239686

The writing style is so beautifully layered that I find new meaning every time I read it. The scene where Ferdinand offers a hairpin for each story Hubert tells is gorgeous, one of my favourites to reread. 

4. A fic you still remember many years later

A Song I Think I Heard Before - Scribbler, Yu-gi-oh, T rated, Mai/Jounouchi (Joey), multichap 40k

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5924028/1/A_Song_I_Think_I_Heard_Before

My favourite Mai fic. This gives her a backstory with Dartz based villainy and recontextualises her relationship with Jou (Joey in the dub, most YGO authors used the JP names to distance themselves from 4Kids’ added cheese). I was on tenterhooks waiting for each new chapter. It’s got real emotional depth, capturing Mai’s cynical nature perfectly. Also I still think about/use the phrase bumblefuck in the morning. 

5. A comfort fic

just a little stuck on you (you’ll be on me too) - flowermoons, Fire Emblem Three Houses, T rated, Hubert/Ferdinand, one chap 33k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875707

This brings the cast of FE3H to the modern world and drops them into reality TV show The X Factor. There’s no war or death angst, just a singing contest. I grew up with The X Factor on TV on a Saturday night so this was a delight. Like me, the author is cynical about reality TV which makes the fic even more engaging. Ferdinand mourning his long hair after he cuts it and Hubert running round London looking for him really made my day. 

6. A catharthic fic

Long and Lost - Windian, Tales of Graces, M rated, Richard/Asbel, multichap 36k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5357546/chapters/12372899

Listen game, you can’t spend 40 hours having the protagonist’s motivation as ‘save Richard’ and then pull a no homo on me! In this fic Asbel dutifully marries Cheria only for the whole thing to collapse in on itself when he realises he’s in love with Richard after all. The snow storm scene is something I’ll always remember.

7. A fic you’d like to print and put on your bookshelf

Revival series - MyAibou, Yu-gi-oh,  T rated, multiship, many k

http://fanfiction.net/s/2681684/1/Revival-Prologue-Paradox

This is split into multiple parts and has another multipart followup. A continuation of Yu-gi-oh Duel Monsters with shipping and very decent original characters including villains. My polarshipping heart is in love with this scene on the clifftop in part 2 chapter 11 - a slow dance to the sound of the waves to help Mai remember she isn’t alone *melts into a puddle*

8. A fic you associate with a song

Who I Am Hates Who I’ve Been - darkrunner, Yu-gi-oh, rated K+, Mai/Jou, multichap 9k

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4445992/1/Who-I-Am-Hates-Who-I-ve-Been

It’s titled after a song. This was one of the first fics I ever found, read and loved. I was way too shy to review but I loved this author dearly. Good old angst & hurt/comfort with a happy ending. A happy ending for Mai was all I wanted haha!

9. A fic that inspires you

Patience, Ponies and Pastries - GoldenThreads, Fire Emblem Three Houses, T rated, Hubert/Ferdinand, multichap, 27k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20722859/chapters/49231019

A shipping fic where the two characters being shipped spend most of the fic apart! This author is so good at characterising the pair, there are treasures hidden throughout. I never thought reading about horses of all things could make me so emotional... 

And this passage from Ferdinand’s point of view:

As long as Hubert did not truly reject such affection, did not throw him in the stocks for his bleeding heart, then he did not require reciprocation. He required that Hubert be cherished, and that was that.

10. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

Marik and Bakura Go To Censored Town - Little Kuriboh, Yu-gi-oh, M rated, multichap, 24k

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6954805/1/Marik-Bakura-Go-To-Censored-Town

I spent most of my Yu-gi-oh fandom life wishing there were more fics about Mai and tended to avoid the big slash ships. However, Yu-gi-oh Abridged’s strongest pair were always Marik and Bakura. When I read this fic I realised yes, Marik being an idiot and Bakura being the straight man (not literally) makes this ship sing.

11. A fic you wish could be a movie

Denial & Deception - Bohemienne, Fire Emblem Three Houses, M rated, multichap, 74k (incomplete)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895731/chapters/49671050

The setting of Derdriu is so lushly described that it would make a wonderful movie setting. Additional points for the masked ball chapters! 

Hubert and Ferdinand infiltrate the Leicester Alliance using a fake relationship. It goes as well as you might expect. There is comedy, there is romance and the whole thing makes you want to smack Hubert round the face with a fish. 

12. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

Past Future Continuous - HermitsUnited, Doctor Who, T rated, multichap 20k

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4917490/1/Past-Future-Continuous

We are not in contact anymore but we shared a love of Donna Noble. This shines through in all her alternate season 5 fics! 

13. A fic you’ve gushed about IRL

Festering Under Your Skin - Bohemienne, Fire Emblem Three Houses, M rated, multichap 52k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465312/chapters/48559553

My poor gf had to put up with me going on about this one. Lady Edelgard is dead and Ferdinand is a Blue Lion who spares Hubert. All of this is played for maximum dramatic potential. Special marks for the scene where Ferdinand accidentally poisons himself with Hubert’s coffee. So brilliantly in character for both of them. And excellently foreshadowed earlier in the fic where an imprisoned Hubert keeps asking for his coffee... 

14. A fic you associate with a place

Heart of Defiance - battlemage15, RWBY, M rated, multichap 150k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896874/chapters/18038116

I downloaded this to my phone and read it on the top deck of the number 6 bus as it bumped along the country roads of deepest Devon. I was on my way to job interviews in the city and the trip was 2 hours long. The fic itself is a Yang centric shonen power fantasy that goes to pretty dark places. 

15. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Blood and Ink - ShowMeYourFury, RWBY, M rated, Cinder/Ruby, multichap 45k

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11754595/1/Blood-and-Ink

This fic is ruthless with Cinder’s villainy. Every time you think she can’t go any further, she does. I love it. 

16. A fic you found at the right time

Forward - Lyricanna, Fire Emblem Fates, not rated, multichap, 34k (incomplete)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747516/chapters/29075913

I love the concept of this fic so much. Subaki is selected to be a Hoshidan ambassador in Nohr and gets lumped with Niles as a guide. Neither is having a good time. There is a plot going on involving kidnapping and asassination that forces them to work together. 

17. A fic that you would read fic of

The Obligatory Hot Spring Scene - Scribbler, Yu-gi-oh, T rated, oneshot, sub 1k

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6368612/1/The-Obligatory-Hot-Spring-Scene

Written as though the characters are actors and canon is a TV show. I love this concept and would read more in a similar vein

18. A fic that made you laugh out loud

Surrender To Your Peace - spiralpegasus, Fire Emblem Three Houses, M rated, Sylvain/Felix, one chap, 11k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20757260

“This is very unfortunate,” Dimitri says with a frown. “As the leader of this mission, I will take full responsibility and use the Swamp Bedroll.”

One does not simply sacrifice themselves to He Who Saw The Bottom Of The Earth And Lived with such a cavalier attitude. “You know your guilt complex doesn’t actually have to extend to sleeping in a gross swamp bag,” Sylvain tells him disbelievingly.

“I agree, Your Highness,” Dedue says, setting He Whose Stench Haunts The Dreams Of Man down on the ground with a delicate sort of distaste. “None of us need use this… bedroll.” He says bedroll the same way he says food when it’s Flayn’s turn to cook.

19. A fic with a line or two you’ve memorised by heart

one sentiment enlightens to another - newamsterdam, Fire Emblem Three Houses, G rated, Hubert/Ferdinand, oneshot 6k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074840

Ferdinand rolls his eyes. “Of course I do, Hubert. I remember very well. I just— well. Perhaps I’ve overestimated you.”

Hubert, who has spent the better part of the past few weeks believing he constantly underestimates Ferdinand, bristles.

Not the exact lines but I always keep this in mind when writing the ship. I think these hit on the fundamental misunderstanding between the two characters. Hubert is only human, not some all powerful hero/villain. And Ferdinand isn’t stupid just because he’s honest and emotional. I think the two of them have trouble getting their heads round these concepts!

20. A fic that gave you butterflies

Ataraxia - Windian, Tales of Graces, T rated, Cheria/Pascal, 13k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7828981/chapters/17871247

"I want you," Cheria tells her, and the night catches like a rubber band. Her hands are in Pascal's hair, Pascal's arms around hers, her mouth on hers. Their kisses are sloppy and messy, noses knocking against one another, but it's everything and it's nothing at all like kissing Asbel.

When they break for air, Pascal tells her, "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this, Cheria."

Cheria asks, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I dunno Cheria, because you were gonna marry Asbel, maybe?"

It stops her in her tracks. Voice low, she asks, "What am I going to tell him?"

Pascal cups either side of her face. Kisses her, so hot and hard that Cheria's left seeing stars, clinging at the strings of Pascal's swimsuit like a shipwrecked sailor to a spar.

"Screw it. Think about it in the morning. For once in your life, do something you want."

21. A fic that embodies something you value in life

The Truth About Love - MistressAkira, Fire Emblem Fates, T rated, Niles/Subaki, 2k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036081

This fic is experimental in style - the author descrbes it as a soliloquy. The sentiment I take from it is that love is compromising, inconvenient, illogical. Yet it’s still something beautiful and something worth fighting for.

22. A favourite AU

Mobius - SirTeateiMoonlight, Xenoblade Chronicles, T rated, multichap, 17k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845748/chapters/42111473

Melia finds a copy of Xenoblade, plays it and knows exactly what’s going on in the story. She uses this knowledge to her advantage. It’s a slippery slope. By the end of the story she’s mercilessly torturing Lorothia against her brother’s wishes. 

23. A fic you’ve stayed up late to finish reading

Dirty Sympathy - ideny, Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney, M rated, Klavier/Apollo, 130k on AO3 not sure on kink meme

https://bludhavens.livejournal.com/88397.html?thread=41790541#t41790541

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075868/chapters/2160789

I stayed up reading this until 4am and for some reason (probably tiredness) confessed this to my not-yet-gf. She cites this as one of the moments she fell for me!

It’s a dark fic in which Klavier and Apollo are both in abusive relationships with villains. They concoct a plot to implicate the two of them in criminal activities to escape and fall for each other along the way. 

24. A fic that made you feel seen

i knew you were trouble - Magepaw, Fire Emblem Fates, M rated, Niles/Subaki, 8k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19314568

First of all the title is one of my favourite songs. Second of all the dialogue is everything I want from the Niles/Subaki ship. Third Subaki’s pegasus makes her presence known. Fourth there is a gory battle scene and hurt/comfort gone wrong. And fifth, a happy ending. 

Niles had to turn away, hand pressed to his mouth, before his own blush betrayed him. This was too good to last. This had to be the most embarrassingly vulnerable moment of his entire life, and of course the entirety of the Nohrian and Hoshidan military combined had to be there to see Niles go soft. 

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

National Boss Day [h.s.]

- part I -

“But Harry had really gotten hooked on her when he asked her about how she was under pressure and Y/N answered by comparing herself to the calm and collectiveness of a wolf hunting its prey. Her specific words were, ‘On all levels except physical, I am a wolf.’ and he immediately recognized where the quote was from. He’s not ashamed to say that he’s stayed up pretty late on work nights watching RIP Vine compilations.

To her comment, Harry then answered with a huge, goofy grin and a small, squeaky bark like the one in the video referenced and any nerve-derived ice between them immediately broke down.” 

or Y/N is Niall’s right-hand and Big Boss Styles claims to be the Gordon Ramsey of coffee cakes.

A/N: hello ladies and germs!! this is the long anticipated boss!harry fic that has been in the works for a bit and as i was reading through it, i realized how long it was and decided to break it down into parts so that you guys could at least get most of it as the rest gets finished up (and doing this will also push me to finish it faster bc i’ll have it out already). feedback is always welcome and thank you so much for your support! i love you all so much and i hope you enjoy the first installment! p.s.- im sorry if tumblr is wack and doesn’t put the “keep reading” but i promise i put one

rating: uhhh i’d say pg-13 bc there’s no smut but there’s mentions of Mature Content™ eskeet

word count: about 2.6k

masterlist : ask

///

Working as a secretary for a member of a company’s board has it perks, Y/N could say. 

She’s a key part in the business since she has to deal with organizing the corporation’s system, handling the dozens of phone calls that the business gets, keeping the big people on track with their schedules, doing interviews on behalf of the company, visiting schools and colleges and career fairs to inform the public of how their business works, helping plan, set up, and execute professional events and banquets— the list goes on. It’s not an easy job, but it’s one with a purpose and when it comes to a career, purpose is everything. It has just the right amount of responsibilities to give her work meaning, but it’s not too overwhelming to the point where she can’t handle it. It’s what she likes to refer to as a healthy challenge. 

The job’s perks elevate even higher since Y/N’s employer also happens to be one of her closest friends. Thanks to Niall, days at the office aren’t a complete and total bore. He cares about her, therefore he doesn't’ treat her like shit, which some (most) bosses tend to do. Alongside that, he makes working fun thanks to his witty, happy-go-lucky sense of humor and his knack for telling her all the dirty gossip circulating around the business’s higher powers (to which they like to refer to as King Styles’ Round Table).

But with every job, just as there are ups, there are bound to be downs. That down happens to be a six-foot British curly-haired brunette, who likes to flaunt sheer dress shirts that show off his plethora of enticing tattoos along with his lean arms, who wears tight slacks that expose his beautifully thick thighs perfectly, who sports expensive custom-made Gucci loafers, and who trails the sweet yet tangy scent of Tom Ford all around the office building.

The thing about downs is that most downs can be surpassed, but it’s a little hard to best this one when he runs the fucking company.

It’s even harder because Y/N sees Harry quite often since she is the one who’s always delivering Niall’s paperwork and business files, sometimes even attending the board meetings on his part when Niall can’t make it.

It’s hard because there’s always been an underlying tension between her and Harry ever since they laid eyes on each other. Y/N could feel it when they shook hands for the first time— the way he gave the gesture slowly, as if trying to make it last. As if he wanted to keep their fingers interlocked for as long as possible. She could feel it in how when she had talked to him about her experience in the field, he was absentmindedly chewing on his bottom lip as he watched her own with intense concentration, which had made her cheeks sting, much to his amusement. But Harry had really gotten hooked on her when he asked her about how she was under pressure and Y/N answered by comparing herself to the calm and collectiveness of a wolf hunting its prey. Her specific words were, “On all levels except physical, I am a wolf.” and he immediately recognized where the quote was from. He’s not ashamed to say that he’s stayed up pretty late on work nights watching RIP Vine compilations.

To her comment, Harry then answered with a huge, goofy grin and a small, squeaky bark like the one in the video referenced and any nerve-derived ice between them immediately broke down. For the rest of the session, they strayed from the normal interview etiquette and talked about funny videos and memes on social media and he can confidentially say it is the best interview he’s ever given. Y/N was something else. The sweet, witty, funny something else that he felt the company needed to— that he needed, as well, to keep himself from losing his youth to the business world. All in a professional sense, of course.

When the interview had been over, Harry had gotten up and given Y/N’s hand another shake, the corners of his pretty rose lips quirking upwards into a smile that was borderline childish and genuine and full of awed interest in this random girl who had run into his office in Adidas slides and changed into heels in the bathroom, all without realizing that she’d almost toppled into him on his way to the elevator.

His voice had been deep, accent annunciating every syllable to utter crisp perfection as he regarded her with entertained wonder. “I really look forward to having you on board.”

Within all the quirky behavior they shared in the company, Harry’s interest in her became a bit more sensual as his tiny, endearing crush grew into him being utterly, shamefully whipped. Their exchanges became speckled with intense moments that suggested lascivious intentions, and Y/N can’t say she wasn’t fond of them. It had gone on the entire time Y/N had worked for his corporation to the point where she craved these longing instances because she had become deeply invested in Harry just as much as he was towards her, though neither of them knew it yet simply because they did not intend to act upon their feelings.

Lingering stares shared across the large conference room table. Lame jokes exchanged in the break room as he touched her hip lightly, reaching over her to grab the powder creamer from the cabinet up top, his chest pressing against her back as she let out a light gasp at his close proximity. Opening the door for her every chance he got, “accidentally” bumping into one another in the elevator, having lunch in his office together when the two stayed back do to project pile-up.  

Their relationship even went outside of the office. Since they worked together, they had the same friend group and therefore were bound to see each other all the time.    

The tension between the both of them amplified after last year’s Christmas party at Niall’s place, where Harry had gotten drunk off his ass and come up behind Y/N while she was grabbing another bag of ice from the cooler in Niall’s garage.

Harry had pressed up behind her, big, warm, shaky hands perching on her hips, groping the material of her new maroon velvet jeans.

Y/N had flipped around, gasping quietly as he shoved her up against the cement wall, the cold air from the cooler rising in a heavy fog, contrasting Harry’s warm body and making goosebumps wash across her skin.

He had bitten his deep red lip with raw need, eyes hazy but bright with arousal as the alcohol clouded his inhibitions, flicking across different points of her face and stopping at her lips, letting out a soft moan. “God, they look absolutely delicious.”

One of his hands came up to cup Y/N’s face, his thumb swiping over her bottom lip slowly, eyes lulling shut at the electricity that passed from the ridges of her skin to his. When he speaks, his voice is low and throaty with a whimpery undertone. “Nice and plump and so soft...Bet y’taste so sweet— bet y’taste like honey.”

“Harry...” Her voice is small but stern as she clings to his wrist in protest, as forced as it may be.

Y/N wants him just as bad as he wants her— especially now, in his tight black jeans and expensive olive-green and crimson Gucci Christmas sweater, hair fluffed into a soft quiff and he smells so fucking good it should be criminal— smells like cinnamon and musky cologne and the faint scent of chamomile shampoo. Especially when he’s oozing sex appeal and sheer need, even while looking so cute with little rain deer ears propped on his head, the tiny bells twinkling faintly with his movements.

But Y/N can’t. She can’t because he’s drunk and it would feel like she’s taking advantage of him and that’s not fair.

“We can’t, Har.”

He let’s out a tiny, soft groan at the name, his cock twitching in his pants at how good it sounds rolling off her tongue. He loves the way her mouth forms his name, so delicately and affectionate and innocent. It makes both his heart and prick throb and all he can think about is Y/N whimpering it in his ear as he rams himself against her sweaty thighs.

“Please, Y/N? Been wanting you for ages. I just...jus’ this once? Here, and now? I’ll take you right here on top of the cooler and make you feel so good you won’t regret it.” His lips drift closer to her’s, his Tom Ford cologne wafting up from his neck and causing her knees to buckle at his intoxicatingly alluring scent. “Fuck you so good you won’t ever forget it.”

With a painful gaze and a half-sane mind, Y/N slowly pries his big hands from her body, clutching his fingers with emotion to communicate how much it hurts to reject his offer. “I’m sorry, H, but we just can’t.”

His brows had knitted in discontent sadness, his pretty rose lips tilting down in a hurt-filled grimace. But eventually, with sad reluctance, he’d moved to the side and let her go.

She had scurried up the steps to rejoin the party, hands trembling as she clutched the cold bag of ice to her heated body, hoping it would help cool her off.

When Harry had come back up stairs, he covered up the incident pretty well, although he was in a dampened mood the rest of the night. At times, Y/N caught him staring at her with longing, only to embarrassingly flit his gaze away when she looked over, trying to hide the flush in his cheeks.

They both went on pretending like that encounter never happened, but in his defense, she assumes he’d been so sloshed he probably didn’t even remember it.

And now Y/N stands here in the mail room, months after, on National Boss Day of all days, sifting through all of the board members’ mail and organizing it into piles (it’s her turn this week according to the rotation her and the other secretaries had derived).

Everything’s going fine and dandy until Harry waltzes into the small room, in search for his round of mail for the day. He had been getting back from a quick lunch at the falafel place down the street when he’d decided to swing by, wanting to save whoever was in charge of mail today a trip to his office.

But when he saw her standing there, carefully eyeing the small, slanted, tricky handwriting on an envelope, he couldn’t help but crack a teeny, amused grin as a certain giddiness fluttered in his chest.

“Y’know, there’s these things called ‘glasses’ nowadays. They work absolute wonders.”

Y/N jumps slightly with a squeak of surprise, whipping around with a wild look tainting her features. When she sees him giggling softly in the corner, sipping his vanilla chai with the corners of his lips tilted up around the brim of the cup, she gives him a playful scowl.

“Oh, hush.”

He weighs towards sticking around a bit, chatting with her about some new movies that have come out in theaters, well aware that one of her favorite things in the world is going to the cinema. The conversation is cheery and comfortable as he leans back against one of the sturdy shelves, arms crossed over his broad chest with his biceps chiseling into the expensive fabric of his dress shirt, an effortlessly cocky smirk plastered on his face for no apparent reason.

That’s one thing about Harry. He has a certain aura of unwavering confidence about him that borderlines arrogance in the hottest way possible; but in reality, he’s the sweetest dolt to ever walk the earth. Y/N had mentioned it before and his explanation was that in this business, one has to appear naturally self-assured and “edging towards assholey” to guarantee others’ respect. He’d commented that after a while, the façade just melted into his DNA and that he does it often without even noticing.

But she knew he was aware of it now— that he was doing it on purpose. Y/N knew because she could feel his cheeky gaze prickling her cheeks with heat as she struggles to detach two envelopes that had glued themselves together, trying not to rip either. Y/N knew because when he reaches over and takes said envelopes from her hands and frees them with one simple tug, the conceited simper he gives her is also complimented by a jesting quirk of his thick brows.   

“Shut up.” She grumbles, snatching the papers from him and chucking them in their designated piles, trying her best not to stare at the large array of fancy rings hugging his fingers. He has three on one hand and four on the other and she can’t fathom how hands could be big enough to make those expensive, chunky rings look so small.

“I didn’t even say anything!” He laughs, pouting his pretty lips with faux hurt. “That’s not very nice.”

“You’re not very nice.” Y/N mocks in a high-pitched voice, scrunching her nose into a silly face.

“I beg to differ.” He exclaims adamantly. “I’m very nice. Just ask any girl I’ve been with. I make them breakfast, do the laundry, vacuum, clean the bathrooms— the bathrooms, Y/N.”

“You poor baby.”

“And I’m pretty giving when it comes to other things, as well, but we won’t get into that.” He waves a hand dismissively in the air. “It’s not necessarily appropriate office banter.”

She lets out a light laugh, a bit forced at the sly tone of his comment.          

Somehow, Harry has ended up uncomfortably close to Y/N, his nose inches from the side of her face. His cologne fans over her and she’s suddenly flashed back to that moment so many weeks ago in Niall’s garage, the familiar scent sending her nerves into a frenzy.

The same bubbling starts to boil at the pit of Y/N’s stomach— the same feeling of anxious excitement that came with having Harry so close, with his interests set on her and only her.

When he speaks, his voice is a low drawl, every word annunciated by his accent, dripping with taunting suggestiveness. “Maybe I can show you one day.”

“Yeah, just maybe.” Y/N laughs softly, pushing the sentence out with difficulty, trying to make nothing of the situation.

“Maybe...” Harry leans his head to the side slightly, trying to catch her eye, and suddenly his mood changes completely from one of sexual tension to his normal, airy, light-hearted self. “Maybe today, it being National Boss Day and all. Mind treating me to your company for some coffee cake tonight at my place?”

Y/N gives him a wary glance.

“Just as a token of gratitude for your oh-so nice and giving boss.” His tone has lost it’s predatory edge, helping relieve some of her stress. “Just one slice. Made it myself last night. It would really hurt my feelings if you turned me down without even giving it a chance.”

He pouts childishly, pretending to sniffle, whimpering softly.

The young secretary rolls her eyes. “God, I hate you, y’know that?”

“I’m your boss. You’re supposed to hate me.”

[cheeseeatingtrashmonster]

Butterfly

LadyNoir July day 18: Masks/Kiss. Thanks @lovesquare-squad

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"Again!" Ladybug screamed, stomping her foot. "We lost him again!"

"We were closer that time," Chat said, panting. "If he couldn't do that disappearing thing it would be a lot easier."

Ladybug's earrings beeped and she sighed. She was out of time anyway. Had Hawkmoth stayed a minute longer, it would have been Marinette trying to kick him in the shins instead of Ladybug.

"I'm down to seconds, I'll see you tonight," Ladybug said. She swung away and Chat was left alone on the roof with a terrified nine year old who just wanted to watch a movie that wasn't scary with his friends.

"Let's get you home," Chat said.

/*****/

"These near-misses with Hawkmoth are making me crazy," Marinette said, dropping into an alley a few blocks away, her transformation dissipating before her feet even hit the ground.

"He'll make a mistake soon," Tikki said, curling up in Marinette's open purse. "You just have to be more patient than he is. Think things through, take your time, make the right choice the first time, and you'll win in the end."

"When is the end though, Tikki?" Marinette asked, starting the long walk home. "I can't keep disappearing for hours at a time to track down a madman without questions being asked."

"It'll come soon enough. And at least it's summer! You aren't missing school."

"I know," Marinette said. "But I am impatient. I'm trying not to be, I'm trying to do what you keep telling me, but..."

"But you love Chat Noir," Tikki said with a little smile.

"I love him so  much," she said. "But I feel like I'm not supposed to tell him until we reveal, and we can't reveal until we get Hawkmoth, and Hawkmoth keeps-"

"Marinette?"

Marinette put one hand over the open top of her purse and spun towards the familiar voice.

"Adrien?"

"Hi." His smile was something she had missed seeing in person. The in-person ones were generally much more genuine than the ones on her walls. "Did you have errands around here? You're a bit far from home."

"Oh!" She looked around. There was nothing nearby that would be a good explanation for her presence. She didn't have shopping bags to say she had been buying things, either. "I went for a walk. I guess I wasn't paying attention to how far I went."

"Do you want a ride? You're on our way," Adrien said, gesturing to the car waiting for him down the block.

"Yeah! If you don't mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I did," he said, holding out his hand. She took it and slid into the car behind him.

"How has your summer been?" Marinette asked.

"Good! I'm still in fencing club, basketball, and Chinese lessons, and I just added a programming course. Nathalie's actually running it for about twenty kids. I never thought I'd miss her teaching, but I'm enjoying the class. How about you?"

"Lots and lots of sewing. And knitting! Here, I have pictures of my most recent projects." Marinette pulled out her phone and flipped through the pictures with Adrien. She found he had a terrible eye for fashion, which made her laugh, and he couldn't help but join her.

"Next time you and Alya plan something," he said, "call Nino, and I'll see if I can sneak out to join you guys. I miss everyone."

"Aw, we miss you too!" Marinette said as they stopped in front of the bakery. "Guess this is me. Thank you for the ride, Adrien." She turned to his driver. "And thank you, Mr... um..."

"Gorilla," Adrien said.

"What?"

"Mr. Gorilla."

"Seriously?"

"No, but it's what I call him."

Mr. Gorilla grunted in agreement.

"O...kay. Thanks, Mr. Gorilla. I'll make sure to set something up for the whole group soon. Bye!"

It was only when Tikki said, "That went well!" that Marinette realized what had just happened.

"I just... I just got a ride home with Adrien. I didn't stutter once. We held a real conversation. It was... nice."

"Maybe the past couple weeks away from him did you some good?"

"Maybe..."

"Or?" Tikki looked at her expectantly.

"Or..." She took a deep breath, letting the realization settle under her skin. "Or this is a sign that my true love is Chat."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Marinette said, feeling a smile tug at her cheeks until it hurt. "The idea of loving only Chat... nothing could make me happier."

"That's wonderful, Marinette!" Tikki got as sly a look as a tiny god of creation could have on her face. "You know... you don't have to wait until you reveal to confess. Love might make you two stronger, bring about Hawkmoth's downfall faster."

"Really?" Marinette asked. Tikki nodded. "Well, if the moment's right, I'll go for it."

"I'm so happy for you!"

They entered her room and Marinette looked around. She had taken down her Adrien pictures when Nino had stopped by to interview her for a documentary he was making (called "Akumas in Paris") and hadn't bothered to put them back up. Well, no real reason to now. She went to the hidden pictures and pulled out her three favorites. She added them with all her other pictures of her friends. Maybe when she managed to get Adrien, Alya, and Nino together, they could take some new pictures to add to her wall.

Marinette fed Tikki and then played video games with her dad until dinner. After they cleaned up, she worked on a shirt for Nino until it was time to patrol.

"I wish the flower was still all pretty," Marinette said, looking at the drooping rose in its vase.

"Chat Noir has loved you for a long time," Tikki said. "He'll just be happy you feel the same way he does."

"I hope so," she said. "Spots on!"

Ladybug all but flew to her meeting spot with Chat Noir. She was nervous, but she also knew he loved her. This was right. They were right.

"You're early, My Lady."

He dropped silently to the roof beside her. Her heart rate doubled and she couldn't have held back her grin if she'd tried.

"Hey, Kitty." She sounded breathless but she didn't care.

"You look happy," Chat said, extending his staff to lean on it. "Is it me? Did you miss my sparking purrsonality?"

"I really did," she said with a little giggle.

"Oh." He straightened up and a look of confused delight resulted a little smile, just for her. "You were pretty upset earlier."

"Hawkmoth? We'll get him," she said, waving a hand.

"Of course. With a team like us? Nothing can stop us for long."

They were a team. They had always been each other's complement. She couldn't wait any longer. This kitty needed to know just how loved he was.

"Hey," Ladybug said, reaching out to grab Chat's hand. "Can I say something?"

"Something good?"

"I think so."

"Then of course, Bugaboo."

His first hint was that she giggled at the nickname she usually hated. The second was the way she blushed and bit her lip. His heart sank. This wasn't real.

"Well, Kitty..." Her eyes dropped to their joined hands, and she started swinging them side to side a little. "I've realized lately that... That my feelings for you aren't the same as they were before. You've always been one of the closest people to my heart, but now... I love you, Chat Noir."

She looked up. His eyes looked... sad. His mouth was set in a determined line.

"You don't really feel that way," he said.

"What?"

He didn't repeat himself. It took Ladybug a minute to process his words. She could see from his expression, the hunching of his shoulders, the slight lowering of his cat ears, that what he had said wasn't good, but the words themselves meant something she hadn't expected, couldn't understand.

"Of course I do," she said. She ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach in favor of the buzz of confusion in her head. "Why would you say that?"

He shook his head and took a step back, but didn't pull his hand away. "No, you don't. I'm sure you think you do, but... Your feelings, they aren't real. In a little while, you'll see. I'm just your goofy partner. That's how you've always seen me, that's how you'll see me again."

"No! I've never seen you as 'just' anything. Chat, I love you." She stepped towards him, closing the distance he had made but feeling no closer. "You said you love me. Now I'm telling you that I love you, too. This is good! This should be happy!"

He pulled his hand from hers, tight fists falling to his sides and took two steps back. "I do love you. I love you enough that I can make myself tell you this isn't real. It's just the fake dating confusing you, making you feel the things you're pretending to feel."

"What? This has nothing to do with that!" Why was he doing this? She had expected him to be happy, for them to be able to share in that giddy feeling of loving each other. How had it turned into a fight?

"I know you think that," he said, taking another step back, "but you'll realize it soon. We'll cut back on the public dates. Answer fewer questions about us for the press. You'll see."

Ladybug felt angry tears starting to form, and tried to slow her breathing to fend them off. "Chat, I know what I feel is real. I know it."

He gave a sharp shake of his head and turned to face the nearest rooftop. "I can't do this, Ladybug! I'll patrol alone tonight. See you at the next akuma attack."

He left. Ladybug covered her mouth to muffle the sob she couldn't stop. She raced to get back home, to cry in the comfort and privacy of her room. People couldn’t see Ladybug like this.

Didn't he love her? Didn't he love her enough to believe her? Wasn't this what he wanted? Didn't he love her?

His love had been a constant since Chat had told Marinette that he loved Ladybug. The sun was warm. The ground was down. Chat loved her. But now? Now nothing made sense. Her love had upset him, made him reject her. Chat didn't love her. The ground was up. The sun was cold.

How had she made things so bad so quickly?

She landed on the merry go round in the park across the street from her house, within sight of the statue of the Heroes of Paris when the little black and purple butterfly caught up to her.

"Hello, Lovebug," said a gleeful voice in her head. "I am Hawkmoth."

[libellehana]

Osomatsu-san PS Vita game translation - Choromatsu 12 – Do your best, Choromatsu

Choromatsu: Finally... The time has finally come. I'm through to the second round of my application to work at an idol agency. D, don't be too nervous. If I can pass this, then I can be an idol manager. When I got the notification that I passed the first round, I couldn't believe it... I can finally become an admirable member of society! When I become a manager, I can have a dangerous romance with an idol... tee hee hee.  Choromatsu: (Well, I'm such a dependable guy, I'm bound to ace the interview...) 

Osomatsu: Huh? Hey, it's Choromatsu!  Choromatsu: Eh?  Todomatsu: You're right! Hey there! Choromatsu-niisan.  Choromatsu: Why!? Why are all of you here? Are you guys all here to become managers too!?  Osomatsu: No, no. We're not interested in that.  Choromatsu: Then why...  Osomatsu: I thought I might get to touch cute girls as much as I want. Choromatsu: You're the worst!  Karamatsu: Heh, that's not the reason I'm here for. This is a chance to let the whole world know about my charm. That's why I came.  Ichimatsu: I just came along with everyone... Jyushimatsu: This is the tallest building in town, so I wanted to go up to the top.  Todomatsu: This is an interview for managers, but perhaps the interviewer will realise how great I am and scout me as an idol. Choromatsu: Jeez... I can't believe you guys passed the first round of applications.

Osomatsu: We passed surprisingly easily.  Jyushimatsu: I didn't think I'd pass, I'm so surprised!  Todomatsu: Well, he who passes, wins, I guess. Osomatsu: Well, passing the screening was pretty lucky, you know. Choromatsu: !? (This is bad... None of them are seriously trying to be idol managers, but for some reason they're all really motivated...But I don't think there's anyone more suited to the position than me...) Heh, I was too naive. This is... a war! I can't let my guard down just because they're my siblings. On the contrary, anyone here is my enemy! I should consider them my enemies. And why did they even apply to an talent agency in the first place... ?! Those expressions... They're definitely planning on getting in my way...!) Osomatsu: (Heh, we can't let Choromatsu get a job by himself! We have to stop him.)  Karamatsu: (This is a chance for my perfect fashion to prove itself.)  Ichimatsu: (I hope this is over soon... Ah, I'm tired.)  Jyushimatsu: (Woah! We're so high up)  Todomatsu: (Argh, this cleanser probably isn't right for me. My skin feels irritated...) Choromatsu: This is no good...! Those guys are no good! ! My future is depending on this, I can't let them defeat me...! Alright, it's times like this I should talk to that person! Hello? It's Choromatsu. Do you have some time to talk? The thing is...

Option One: Why not enlist the help of an ally? Choromatsu: (An ally... Someone who doesn't want to become a manager and I can feel secure about... And that is…)  Choromatsu: Todomatsu! 

Todomatsu: What is it, Choromatsu-niisan? You look so serious.  Choromatsu: Please! I finally have a chance to get a job! Please help me.  Todomatsu: What? What do you mean?  Choromatsu: The truth is, it seems like Osomatsu-niisan is trying to get in my way...  Todomatsu: Eh, he is? He's so immature.  Choromatsu: So please! Please help me so Osomatsu-niisan won't be able to hold me back!!  Todomatsu: You're really serious, aren't you, Choromatsu-niisan? Ok. I'll do my best to support you as much as I can!  Choromatsu: Todomatsu...! I'm... so lucky... that you're my younger brother... uuuu.  Todomatsu: Yeah, yeah, stop crying. Are you planning on being interviewed looking like that?  Choromatsu: Ah, right. I've got to go to the interview now... Thanks, Todomatsu!  Todomatsu: You're welcome. Mine is starting soon too. Let's go in together.  Choromatsu: Yeah.  Choromatsu: Huh? It's this way, isn't it...  Todomatsu: This company is probably really big, so it's a little further, maybe?  Choromatsu: Right...  Choromatsu: That's weird... We've been walking there according to the exact instructions,  but we still haven't reached the interview room... What in the world...

Todomatsu: I think that's about long enough.  Choromatsu: Eh? Todomatsu?  Todomatsu: Sorry, Choromatsu-niisan. Osomatsu-niisan said he'd buy me ice cream afterwards. I'm on Osomatsu-niisan's side. 

Choromatsu: You... for the sake of something like that.  Osomatsu: But it would be annoying it just one of us got a job.  Choromatsu-niisan: Osomatsu-niisan... Osomatsu: Let's keep on enjoying our comfortable NEET lifestyle!  Choromatsu: You jerks! The interview timeslot is already over...  Osomatsu: Nice job, Todomatsu! Now all of us have failed.  Todomatsu: My acting ability is incredible, no?  Choromatsu: ... Osomatsu: Alright, let's go home together! 

Choromatsu: Oi! Hurry up and bring the alcohol!!  Todomatsu: Yeah, yeah, I'm bringing it now.  Choromatsu: You're too slow! You have five seconds! I can't wait any longer than that!! Since it's ended up like this, I'll spend the rest of my life as a NEET, shit!!  Todomatsu: Since this has ended up being really annoying anyway, wouldn't it have been better to just let him take the interview? Osomatsu: You're probably right...

Option Two: Don't pay them any attention and focus on the interview!  Choromatsu: That's right. Those guys don't matter. I need to give it everything I've got now. Alright! I'll do my best!! 

Ichimatsu: I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this.  Jyushimatsu: Yay!! It's so big!! Yahee!!  Choromatsu: (What are they doing? The interviewers might be watching... Can't they go home before they figure out we're brothers...)  Sigh, I guess I don't have a choice. Ichimatsu, do you have a moment?  Ichimatsu: ...!? W, what...?  Choromatsu: I'm sorry, but can you take Jyushimatsu and go home? At this rate, you're just going to bother everyone.  Ichimatsu: I can’t. I don't know the way home. And my stomach kinda hurts...  Choromatsu: You can just ask someone the way.  Ichimatsu: There's no way I could do that.  Choromatsu: ...You sure do make things difficult. And it's almost my turn. Anyway, I'm going to the interview, so please leave while I'm gone.  Ichimatsu: ... Choromatsu: Well I never, Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu won't make it as productive members of society if they act like that.  Ichimatsu: I can’t. I don't know the way home. And my stomach kinda hurts... 

Choromatsu: Ah... Come to think of it, my mind was focused on the interview, so I didn't pay any attention to the fact that Ichimatsu wasn't feeling very well. They're not kids anymore, so I'm sure they'll be alright... No! I have to do my best at this interview! ... Choromatsu: Ichimatsu...!  Jyushimatsu: What is it? 

Choromatsu: You said you're stomach hurt, so I got worried...  Jyushimatsu: Does your stomach hurt, Ichimatsu-niisan? Are you ok?  Ichimatsu: Yeah... kinda.  Choromatsu: He probably got a stomach ache from being nervous about being in an unfamiliar place. Come on, let's go home together. 

Ichimatsu: ...Yeah. Hey, what about your interview?  Choromatsu: As things are now, I failed I guess. Because I left without taking it.  Ichimatsu: Sorry, I guess... Jyushimatsu: Sorry. Choromatsu: ... Well, yeah. I guess it does feel like bit of a waste.  A few days later Choromatsu: ...Sigh. 

Jyushimatsu: Choromatsu-niisan doesn’t seem very happy. 

Ichimatsu: Well... let's leave him alone for now. By the way, what's that you're holding?  Jyushimatsu: It looks like we got some mail from the place we had that interview at before. Here, Choromatsu-niisan, this is yours.  Choromatsu: I don't care. It's just going to say rejected anyway.  Jyushimatsu: Here you go!  Choromatsu: ...I get it. You want me to look. What a pain, the results won't be any different if I look at them... Eh... No way...  Ichimatsu: What is it?  Choromatsu: I... passed the interview.  Jyushimatsu: That's great! Choromatsu-niisan!  Choromatsu: Ye, yeah. But why...?. I didn't even take it?  Ichimatsu: There's a feedback box at the bottom.  Choromatsu: Ah, there is... "We felt that his consideration of others before himself was a strong point" I... I did it! I passed. Now I can escape being a NEET!!  Jyushimatsu: Yay!! Let's celebrate!!  Ichimatsu: Ah, Choromatsu-niisan. You dropped the notification letter... Choromatsu: Alright, with this, I'm a proper adult!  Ichimatsu: ... Seriously. Hmm? What does this say... The sender is NEET Busters? Now that I look at this properly, it says mock interview... So that means that wasn't a real interview... Choromatsu: We're going to have red rice to celebrate tonight! I have to let Mum and the others know.  Ichimatsu: Erm... Choromatsu-niisan...  Choromatsu: I'm going to be busy from here on out!! 

Option Three: This is part of the test.  Choromatsu: Right. If I can't overcome this, then being an idol manager will remain just a dream! Once I overcome this trail, I'll get an idol of my very own to manage...! 

Karamatsu: Right, I'm ready anytime, brother.  Choromatsu: !? (I forgot!! The second round interviews are pair interviews)  Choromatsu: It's no good, I've failed for sure. It's impossible now. Ha ha, it's a miracle that someone like me even made it to the second round. Still, it's all between luck and ability, really. I'll just have to give up... Karamatsu: What are you complaining about.  Choromatsu: It's nothing... nothing... Karamatsu: You're in a pair with me, so relax. I've prepared my ultimate outfit. I'm going to change, so wait here for a moment.  Choromatsu: What could it be? I don't have a very good feeling about this... Seriously, getting put with Karamatsu, things really aren't going my way... No, that may be true, but whoever I was with would probably get in my way and it would suck... 

Karamatsu: Heh, sorry I kept you waiting, brother.  Choromatsu: Ah, you're back. Where did you... go?  Karamatsu: What do you think of my outfit? The interviewer will really lock on to us when he sees this! We'll be hired straight away.  Choromatsu: It's so embarrassing! I'm so embarrassed that you're my brother!! It's over...  Karamatsu: Hey, we better get a move on. The interview's about to start.  Choromatsu: Yeah... that's right. ...Sigh.  Choromatsu: (Uwah, there's a weird atmosphere in here. And the interviews are kinda off-putting.) 

Hijirisawa Shounousuke: Right, we're going to start the interview now. Hmm...Why have you come here?  Karamatsu: Heh, to show off my charms, naturally.  Hijirisawa Shounousuke: Do you think you're being serious like that? Did you think you could pass the interview looking like that?  Karamatsu: Eh... I, I am serious.  Hijirisawa: To put it bluntly, that outfit really makes me question that. We clearly wrote that we were recruiting managers this time. This isn't for idols, you realise that?  Karamatsu: I...  Choromatsu: (Is this a high pressure interview? I wonder if Karamatsu is ok.)  Hijirisawa Shounousuke: Do you think you can cut it in the real world like that? Are you making fun of working people? Karamatsu: ...Ugh.  Hijirisawa Shounousuke: My word, if only your relatives could see you now.  Karamatsu: ...Uuugh.  Choromatsu: Hey! There's no need to talk to him like that, is there?  Hijirisawa Shounousuke: Fighting back against your interviewer? You don't have anything to gain by defending him.  Choromatsu: I don't care about gaining anything. And it's true that Karamatsu may be scum and a show off and painful and hopeless. Karamatsu: Ugh!!  Choromatsu: And he's oblivious to what's going on around him and I'm embarrassed to have him as a brother...  Karamatsu: My heart... is pained.  Hijirisawa Shounousuke: Excuse me... Can you stop that?  Choromatsu: But... we're still siblings! What would you understand? I can't just stay quiet and let someone say such horrible things about my brother!  Karamatsu: Brother...!  Choromatsu: Let's go, Karamatsu! It's a waste of time taking this interview.  Karamatsu: Eh, hey...!  Choromatsu: Eh...?  Iyami: Prank successful, zansu! 

Karamatsu and Choromatsu: Eh?  Iyami: Man, that was great... Such wonderful brotherly love, zansu!  Dekapan: Hoe hoe, I saw something beautiful.  Hatabou: I took some great footage too.  Choromatsu: A prank... eh? What about the job? 

Dekapan: My! My heart feels cleansed.  Dayon: I was very touched, Dayon. Choromatsu: But the job... Hijirisawa Shounousuke: Good lord, I was nervous.  Iyami: What kind of prank should we do next?  Choromatsu: Excuse me, are you listening? ...Listen to meeeee!!