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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years

Text

Sunshine

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 12K

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N has loved Jisung for her entire life and she would never dream of marrying anyone else. Of course, their life together isn’t always perfect, but they’ve always managed to overcome every obstacle standing in their way.

Note: Feeling soft for Jisung these days...

I was only 8-years-old when my parents divorced.

My mother, thinking herself circumspect, blamed it on my father’s long hours at work. But she wasn’t there the night I decided to wait for my father, watching him come home in the dead of night to quietly clean the lipstick painting the side of his cheek. I remember catching his eyes from the bottom of the staircase and the guilt in his eyes was impossible to dismiss.

Those kinds of unfortunate secrets are difficult to hide because they demand to be seen.

Thereafter, I can recall memories of sitting in different offices, listening to my parents bicker while their lawyers did their best to satisfy bitter clients, especially when it came to their daughter. I was a particularly harsh point of contention, but full childhood custody was granted to my mother who did everything in her power to push my father out of our lives, even packing up our belongings to move to the opposite side of the country. And New York City was just as intimidating as my childish imagination had perceived it to be. My first impression was unforgettable, a city that was large and confusing, constantly streaked with traffic and heavy with the low-set of smog in the mornings when the sun could barely filter through the landscape of skyscrapers.

My mother and I moved to the suburbs and started renting a modest home with the idyllic front yard and friendly neighbors who greeted us with dishes containing different foods upon our arrival. I had always been shy and introverted, choosing the comfort of my mother’s legs whenever a stranger would knock on our door, occasionally offering my mother a flirtatious smile. Like the older man who lived across the street who often made a habit of coming over to talk to my mother in the living room while I hid away upstairs, listening to the sound of their laughter.

Eventually, I could no longer pretend that something strange wasn’t happening, especially when my mother’s new friend brought over his two sons. They were both around my age, sporting thick accents that reminded me of the man on television who liked to wrestle with crocodiles. My mother’s friend introduced them as Chan and Felix, encouraging the three of us to get along because we would be spending a lot of time with each other. My childish innocence didn’t quite understand what that meant, but I wanted to do the very best for my mother.

Even so, I was still hesitant at first because Felix seemed to dislike the idea, ignoring me in exchange for his video games when I would come over to their house. Thankfully, Chan was more willing to comply, sharing his books with me since we both liked to read and the couch in his bedroom was extremely comfortable. He had a wide variety of mysteries and thrillers and my impressionable mind would latch onto those exotic stories and themes, picturing myself in the place of the heroine who somehow managed to always know exactly what to do in the most formidable of situations.

Eventually, Chan invited me to accompany him and Felix to the park to meet their other friends since I was having trouble making them on my own. Felix, of course, remained opposed, very nearly throwing a fit had it not been for his father who scolded his son for being so inconsiderate. Not that I was necessarily excited at the idea of meeting their friends since I would have preferred staying inside to read. Nevertheless, my mother was insistent that we get along, so I reluctantly followed Chan and Felix who were talking about some sort of new comic book that they were both reading. It was all very decidedly boyish things and I had no interest in superheroes who ran around in capes when the real heroes were the common female protagonists of my books.

“Everyone, meet Y/N,” Chan had introduced me, pushing me forward to greet the seven other boys who were all looking at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial specimen.

One of their older friends, with a messy head of black hair, immediately crossed his arms. “No way, Chan,” he protested, glaring at me with intimidating dark eyes.

“Girls aren’t allowed,” another boy agreed, nodding his head with enough force to send his bangs flying into his eyes.

I retreated into myself with each subsequent insult and dismissal thrown my way. It was enough to ostracise even the most outgoing of individuals, but I was quite frustrated because I had tried to resist coming along from the moment Chan first proposed the idea. “I didn’t want to come anyway,” I snapped at the boys, surprising each and every one of them as I stormed away to plant myself down on one of the park benches.

I could hear Chan calling my name but I had decidedly had enough of those boys, including Chan despite the inherent kindness he had previously shown me. In fact, they could have fun without me doing whatever it is that nasty little boys liked to do in the park. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway, even if they had opened their arms and begged me to play along. Of course, I was still deeply hurt that they had dismissed me so quickly, but I had always been a prideful child, which is why my first instinct was to lash out when I noticed a shadow had fallen over my wilted form. “You don’t have to be nice anymore, Chan,” I said, turning away from the approaching boy.

“I’m really sorry.”

I glanced up in surprise when I realized that the voice was much brighter than Chan’s gravelly tone. Instead, I met a pair of unfamiliar brown eyes from beneath a fringe of blonde-colored hair. The boy held out a flower, a wilted dandelion that had nearly lost its pappus, as if in a gesture of appeasement.

I accepted it from him hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“They shouldn’t be so mean,” the boy continued, waving at his friends who were busy arguing over a silly football. “You’re really tall so you might be able to catch Minho’s long passes.”

I paused at his comment. “Do you want me to play?”

“Of course,” the boy grinned, smiling as brilliantly as the sun bearing down on the two of us. “My name’s Jisung.”

I returned his smile. “It’s nice to meet you Jisung.” He offered me his hand which I gratefully accepted, holding on to him with an unrelenting grip because I had a feeling that I would never want to let go.

This might explain why, years later, I was still waking up next to him in bed with an expensive ring on my finger courtesy of dozens of saved paychecks back when Jisung worked overtime in college. On this morning, in particular, the sound of my alarm might have been enough to wake me up, but the unexpected presence of my husband’s hand groping my chest provided the necessary catalyst to blindly reach out for my cell phone. I silenced the unwelcome disturbance, allowing a low groan when I reached down for his hand because leave it to Han Jisung to feel me up even when we were both sleeping. “What are you doing?” Jisung asked when I tightened my fingers around his wrist, loudly protesting when he squeezed my breast in return.

“It’s too early for that,” I whined, especially when he started to rub his hard cock against my ass.

“Just let me put it inside for five minutes,” Jisung pleaded, his other hand roaming down to tug on my panties.

“What good will that do?” I asked him, slowly wriggling away from his arms despite the show of childish outrage from my immature husband who still sometimes forgot that he was an adult.

“You’re gonna make me show up to work like this?” Jisung pouted, expression painted with his betrayal as he watched me walk around our bedroom.

“Take a cold shower,” I said, tossing a towel in his direction.

“Y/N,” Jisung said. “Let’s think about the practicalities of the situation. We haven’t had sex in a week and my dick feels like it might fall off at any moment.”

“And if we look at this situation scientifically,” I added. “I doubt your dick will fall off because that’s assuredly impossible.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jisung asked in an exaggerated fashion, burying his face into our nicest set of pillows.

“Because I’m meeting Seungmin and Jeongin for lunch and you have a field trip to chaperone. Plus, I don’t want to listen to Changbin complain to me on the phone tonight when you show up to work late again.”

“Seungmin and Jeongin are more important than me?”

“Lunch is more important than you,” I corrected him with a smirk, reaching for my bag. “Have a nice day at work, babe.”

“No kiss goodbye?” Jisung questioned even as the door to our bedroom shut soundly behind me.

Being amongst the youngest, me, Seungmin, and Jeongin frequently made a habit of eating lunch together on Saturday afternoons. It was a traditional affair, primarily allowing the three of us to gossip about the others without fear of reprimand. And ever since our Freshman year writing lecture, we’ve enjoyed greasy fast food while commenting on everything from Chan and Changbin’s sudden obsession with the gym to our theories that Minho was secretly married to a rich aristocrat who supplied him with the endless amount of money he spent on his cats.

“Hey!” Jeongin protested when I reached over to steal a piece of his steak.

“It looks better than mine,” I attempted to justify, speaking over a mouthful of food which my mother would normally offer criticism.

“Felix has been acting weird lately,” Seungmin randomly commented, a frown confusing his features as he scrolled through his phone.

I chewed the stolen beef before asking, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he only ever gets like this when she’s back in town.”

I let out a heavy exhale, understanding exactly why Seungmin was concerned. “How long?”

“A week or so,” Seungmin said. “He never comes out with us anymore.”

“Does Changbin know?” I asked, sliding my plate aside in exchange for this piece of juicy gossip.

Changbin’s sister, better known as the object of Felix’s most intimate desires, has managed to whole-heartedly capture Felix in some sort of deadly trance. My step-brother, notoriously known for being a playboy in college, became whipped around Changbin’s sister, following her around like a lost puppy begging for attention. “Of course he does,” Seungmin replied. “But he says that Kara hasn’t tried to contact Felix at all.”

“Obviously,” I snorted. “Changbin thinks Kara is the epitome of perfection. His little sister can’t possibly do wrong in his eyes.”

“I think Felix shares his opinion,” Jeongin commented, trying to sound perfectly serious while he sipped on his chocolate milk.

“We’re having a family dinner tomorrow night,” I said with a sigh. “It��s a good opportunity to interrogate my step-brother.”

“Please, Y/N,” Seungmin said, eyes round and soft. “Felix always tells you everything.”

“And you can immediately tell us in the group chat,” Jeongin chirped happily.

“Of course!” I agreed, reaching over to ruffle Jeongin’s hair until my phone abruptly started ringing. “Yes, Hyunjin?” I sighed into the other end.

“Y/N! We have an emergency!”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “It can’t be that bad.”

“We don’t have straws! I repeat, the cafe has no straws and people are asking for straws, Y/N.”

“Jesus, Hyunjin,” I groaned. “Just go next door and buy some straws.”

“Y/N,” Hyujin huffed impatiently. “There is a bigger problem here and you don’t even realize! That kid you hired last week? I think he’s out to sabotage the cafe. I put him in charge of ordering supplies and guess what isn’t supplied?”

“The damn straws,” I muttered, suddenly having a million regrets for agreeing to open the cafe with Hyunjin in the first place.

“Now you finally understand.”

I carefully lowered the phone from my ear, cupping the receiver to look at Seungmin. “Do you mind coming with me to the cafe? I’m supposed to have the day off but Hyunjin’s losing his shit over straws.”

“Sounds like Hyunjin,” Seungmin smirked. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Hyujin,” I repeated into the phone. “Please don’t scream at that poor kid, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The cafe was originally supposed to be an independent endeavor until Hwang Hyunjin found out about my plans and demanded some sort of involvement. Despite our friendship, I was still hesitant to consider Hyunjin as a business partner, especially considering his performances in the lectures we shared in college. Hyunjin was the type of student to arrive to class five minutes before the professor, desperation clinging to him persistently while he begged me to explain the homework assignment. Nevertheless, Hyunjin somehow graduated from the business school at the same time as I did, albeit without the honor’s recognition, proving himself despite the doubts of nearly everyone in our friend circle with the exception of Jisung who always managed to see the good in everyone.

Shortly after graduation, Hyunjin and I took out a small loan from the bank to open our cafe in a very strategic location close to a nearby university. From the beginning, I had primarily handled the more elaborate side of our business ranging from accounting and point of sales to ordering supplies and handling employees. Hyunjin, on the other hand, took care of the creative aspects including designing what he deemed an “elegant” menu while also trying out new recipes that our mostly college-aged clientele greatly enjoyed in the form of free samples.

“Y/N!” Hyujin gasped as soon as I walked in the door with Seungmin and Jeongin. “Well?”

I held up a grocery bag full of the straws I had just purchased. “It’s fine, Hyunjin.”

“It’s not fine,” Hyunjin protested, walking over to yank the bag free from my grasp. “I’ll have you know that one of our usual customers left us 4 instead of 5 stars for satisfaction.”

“What will we do?” I deadpanned. “Where’s the new kid? Did you scold him thoroughly?”

“Of course I did,” Hyunjin said, pointing to the kitchen. “I sent him to wash dishes.”

“He’s a cashier.”

“It’s punishment, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “We can’t have him thinking he can get away with potentially damaging our public image.”

“These kids will still get their morning coffee,” I said. “They don’t care if we’re out of straws as long as they have somewhere to loiter around all day to finish their essays.”

“That’s another thing,” Hyunjin said. “I think we definitely need a bigger place and I know the owner next door said something about moving out.”

“Renovations are expensive,” I said. “And you don’t know if the landlord would be okay with us tearing out the wall to expand.”

“What if I found out?”

“Talk to Seungmin instead,” I suggested, tugging the younger boy forward. “I’ll see about this new guy you’ve decided to torture.”

“Punishment, Y/N!”

I rolled my eyes because I was still frustrated that I had to come into the cafe because of the worst excuse for an emergency in the history of mankind. But what else did I expect from Hyunjin? “Remember to breathe, Y/N,” I whispered to myself.

Back in the kitchen, our newest employee, donned in his decorative jacket courtesy of Hyunjin’s obsession with bright uniforms, was currently bent over the sink with thick gloves pulled up to his elbows. I felt bad for the guy because it was obvious that he wasn’t used to doing something like this. “Hey, kid,” I said, surprising the younger boy who immediately dropped one of the cups back into the sudsy water. “You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I-I don’t mind,” he stuttered, eyes wide as he held tightly to a sponge.

“It’s not your job,” I insisted, carefully taking the sponge from him like he was a deer that might dart away at any sudden movement. “I’m sorry Hyunjin told you to come back here. To be honest, he was probably trying to avoid this work himself.”

“But I messed up the order,” he said, hanging his head. “It’s my fault.”

“Not it’s not and don’t let Hyunjin tell you otherwise,” I said. “Next time, call me if you’re having trouble with the order.”

I reached into my bag to pull out my business card, holding it out for his reluctant hand which was still slightly damp from his unexpected dish duty. “You’re not mad?” he asked reluctantly.

“No way,” I reassured him. “I used to work during college too, you know. I kinda get it, kid, so don’t worry about anything.”

His smile was sincere, looking at my card like it was the key to the world. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Get back on register,” I encouraged him. “That’s what I hired you for, and next time Hyunjin gives you any shit, you just let me know.”

He nodded enthusiastically, vacating the kitchen as if he was actually thrilled by the idea of returning to the register. I knew all was well when I could hear Hyunjin’s shrill voice from the other room: “Y/N!”

Jisung managed to beat me home and I walked inside to find my husband laid out on the couch with a glass of orange juice in one hand. “Headache,” Jisung pouted at me.

“Take some Advil,” I said with a smirk, ignoring the way his hands reached out for me in exchange for the possibility of a snack from the kitchen.

“Y/N!” I heard him groan my name.

“Sungie,” I returned his call. “I hope this isn’t some sort of elaborate set-up because we have dinner with my mother tomorrow night.”

Jisung was silent in the next room and I shook my head while dumping a sample of chips into one of our plastic bowls. I came back out into the living room to find Jisung rolled over onto his stomach, face buried into the cushions of our sectional. “Baby,” I cooed, trying to lure him out from his hiding place.

“I forgot about the dinner,” Jisung said, voice muffled against the furniture.

“I figured that,” I said, somewhat sympathetic to his plight. For as long as I could remember, Jisung had always feared our family dinners mainly because my mother had a personal vendetta against him. Ever since he first stepped foot on the porch wearing a rented suit for Junior year prom, my mother had deemed him unworthy of my time. Her feelings only worsened when she found out that Jisung was majoring in elementary education. “A teacher, Y/N! That boy isn’t going to be able to support the two of you!”

Subsequently, every visit to my mother’s house meant that Jisung had to listen to my mother read statistics on how poor and destitute teachers were in the city. Meanwhile, Felix also received the same treatment from his father who was absolutely horrified when he found out that his youngest son wanted to open a dance studio with Minho. It didn’t help that my step-father loathed Minho because he found him and Felix in the back of Minho’s corvette smoking enough weed to satisfy the entirety of our high school.

It was a complete contradiction because while Jisung and Felix were constantly reprimanded, Chan and I were bathed in compliments and adoration. “Channie,” my mother would smile. “How are your cases?” Chan was some kind of small claims lawyer in the upper Bronx which meant he made enough money to buy a Rolex for every day of the week while driving an expensive Tesla.

“And Y/N,” my mother would address me. “How’s the cafe?”

“We always do well around Finals season,” I told her.

“That’s wonderful darling!” she would always say while glaring in Jisung’s direction who would visibly falter under my mother’s judgemental stare. “How are your...kids, Jisung?”

“They’re great,” Jisung would laugh nervously. “I had to stop one of them from eating a bottle of glue the other day.”

I would laugh and affectionately run my fingers through Jisung’s hair while my mother remained statuesque-still. “How amusing.”

The pattern persisted to this day and I knew Jisung tolerated the dinners for my sake, but he always protested in different ways. For example, last month Jisung agreed to babysit our neighbor’s Pomeranian because he thought I might allow him to stay at home. And I almost let him get away with his impromptu plans when I remembered that Jisung would have to make dinner on his own and I was horrified by the idea of Han Jisung anywhere near my kitchen.

“Tell your mother I’m dying,” Jisung said, pulling me from my thoughts. “That should make her happy.”

“Han Jisung,” I scolded him, reaching down to gently massage his leg. “I’m not leaving you home alone. You’re prone to more kitchen fires than anyone else I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll order takeout,” Jisung said, kicking his foot out against my thigh.

“If you’re gonna act like a child, then I’ll have to treat you like one,” I said, giving his ass a firm smack before rising from the sectional.

Jisung jolted at the unexpected contact, raising his head to briefly consider me. “What was that?”

“Do you not want to play?” I returned, grinning when Jisung immediately sat upright from his position on the sofa, leaning forward in expectation. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

“Perhaps if you decide to stop being so stubborn about the dinner,” I said, dropping to my knees in front of him.

Jisung’s eyes grew wide with lust, hands reaching out to pull my head closer to his crotch. “I’ll go to as many dinners as you want, babe.”

“That’s better,” I smirked, efficiently undoing his belt. “It’s only for a few hours.”

Jisung was ecstatic, pulling down his jeans and underwear. “I’ll just sit with Felix in the dining room alone.”

“Is that so?” I asked, curling my fingers around his hardening cock.

Jisung nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he watched me with rapt attention. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him recently.”

“What a good sport,” I teased, jerking his cock a few times because I liked the way Jisung’s eyelids would flutter with his pleasure. But he was being remarkably good, so I decided he had earned an end to his apparent sexual frustrations. I took in the tip of his cock, running my tongue along the slit dripping with milky white pre-cum.

“Please,” Jisung begged, grip unrelenting on my hair as he encouraged me to swallow more of his cock, slowly taking him in until I could feel him at the back of my throat. “Can I do it?” Jisung asked with desperate eyes and I nodded once, giving him the permission he desired to move my head up and down the length of his erection, warm and rigid against my tongue. I made sure to moan around him because I knew the resulting vibrations felt really good, enjoying the sounds of Jisung’s grunts as he fucked my mouth.

While Jisung did a majority of the work, I tried to amplify his pleasure when I could like running my tongue along the prominent vein on his cock or using my teeth to drag against the fleshy part of him. My fingernails dug into his thighs, leaving behind marks that would probably vanish after a warm shower. Tears were steadily streaking down my cheeks courtesy of an instinctual reaction to Jisung’s cock repeatedly sliding in and out, hollowing my cheeks to accommodate him. “It feels so good,” Jisung said, palms clammy as one hand came to fan against my cheek, wiping away the smeared streaks of my mascara.

Throughout our years together, I had learned a lot about Jisung including his apparent oral fixation when it came to sex. Jisung loved when I gave him a blowjob as I discovered for the very first time locked away in the Janitor’s closet, tasting Jisung on my tongue for a few seconds before he was cumming down my throat, apologizing incessantly for not being able to last longer. As if I really cared because I was quite proud of myself for breaking him down so quickly. But as much as Jisung liked to receive, he also loved to give and feeling his tongue on my pussy was a guilty pleasure, watching Jisung eat me out like he belonged between my thighs.

“Cumming,” Jisung warned me, grip tightening as his hips stuttered, pubic hair brushing against my nose while the bitter taste of his cum was swallowed down with effort because my throat was now incredibly sore.

Jisung fell back against the couch, fingers pushing my hair back from where it had fallen messily into my face. I shakily climbed into his lap, kissing him greedily because there was no better sight than Jisung completely spent after a good orgasm, especially when it was because of me. “Is that better, baby?” I asked, pecking him on the nose.

“I love you,” post-orgasm Jisung told me entreatingly, eyes swimming with tears as he proceeded to plant dozens of soft kisses against the exposed skin of my collarbones.

Jisung pulled into the driveway of my mother’s house with a morbid expression. “It’s not too late to cancel, right?”

I ignored his comment, opening the door to step out into the bitterly cold evening. “Babe, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“No need to pretend,” Jisung grumbled, reluctantly following me to the porch where I hit the doorbell, smoothing down my skirt because my mother always liked it when we dressed up for these dinners.

But the last thing I expected to see on the other side of the door was Kara, especially a version of Kara dressed in an appropriately sized skirt. “Y/N!”

I’m sure my expression of shock matched the one present on my husband’s face as we both took in the sight of Changbin’s little sister. “Kara?” I questioned stupidly, holding tighter to Jisung’s sweater because I needed something to ground me in the reality of this unanticipated situation.

“You guys look great!” she declared. “Come inside!”

“Of course,” I said softly, pulling Jisung behind me as I stepped into the foyer, shrugging off my coat which Kara took from me to hang in the closet like she had been doing it for years.

“Y/N!” my mother squealed, interrupting the unanswered “why are you here?” hanging between the three of us.

“Mom,” I said, accepting her hug with a wince because my mother was never gentle in her affections.

“And Jisung,” my mother frowned, eyeing my husband up and down. “What the hell are you wearing.”

Jisung looked down at his corduroy pants which I had warned him repeatedly to destroy. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh nevermind with you,” my mother said dismissively, reaching out for Kara. “Look, Y/N, Felix brought home a very nice friend. Are the two of you acquainted?”

“She’s Changbin’s sister,” I told my mother. “Why would I not know her?”

“Oh don’t give me that attitude,” my mother said. “Kara was just telling me about the marketing firm she works for! Isn’t that impressive?”

“My brother’s jealous,” Kara said. “He’s stuck working with kids all day, isn’t that the worst?”

My mother giggled at Kara’s comment while I reached behind me to give Jisung’s hand a reassuring squeeze. I didn’t even need to see my husband’s face to know that he would be fuming over Kara’s words. “I think you can do Felix some good too,” my mother said, now leading Kara towards the kitchen. “That boy is an absolute mess sometimes.”

I found Chan in the living room, eating his way through most of my mother’s groceries. “Channie,” I said, hurrying Jisung along despite the way his feet drug against the carpet. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Chan barely glanced up from his food. “What is it?”

“In private?”

Chan offered me a blank look to which I grabbed his hand, forcing him to the opposite side of the room and away from any potential eavesdroppers. “Why the hell is Kara here?”

“Beats me,” Chan shrugged. “Felix said they’re just friends.”

“Just friends my ass!” I hissed at him. “Chan, you know how stupid Felix gets around her! Since when has Felix brought any of his ‘friends’ to one of these dinners?”

“I don’t want to get involved, Y/N,” Chan said. “It’s really none of our business.”

“But does Changbin know she’s here?”

Chan shrugged helplessly. “How should I know? I don’t see Changbin much these days.”

“Ah, you’re useless,” I declared. “There’s a potentially catastrophic disaster unfolding right in front of your eyes and yet food is more concerning to you.”

“Of course it is,” Chan nodded solemnly. “Why do you think I sacrifice a Sunday night at home to drive an hour over here?”

“What a good son you are,” I said, pinching one of his cheeks. “I’m sure your father would be pleased to hear that.”

“Y/N, I seriously don’t know anything about Felix and Kara,” Chan said, smacking my hand away.

“Listen to me, Chan-”

I broke off when my mother suddenly entered the room with Kara on her heels, holding out a tray of cheese and crackers. “Appetizers!” my mother exclaimed, immediately chastising Jisung when he accidentally dropped one on my mother’s coffee table.

“Leave it alone,” Chan warned me, sparing me no further attention as he joined the others in the living room. I followed him to the couch where I planted myself between my step-brother and Jisung, eyeing Kara suspiciously as she sat herself directly on Felix’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I think your mother likes me the least tonight,” Jisung whispered anxiously into my ear.

“That’s because Felix has something shiny and new for her to mess with,” I said, patting his thigh soothingly.

“Everyone, help yourselves!” my mother announced, ushering my step-father into the room with a glass of wine in hand.

I handed Jisung a plate. “Do me a favor and keep the food where it belongs.”

Jisung pouted at me. “You act like I’m clumsy on purpose.”

“I don’t need to feed you, do I?” I asked him, ignoring the way he reached down to pinch my waist in warning.

The remainder of our dinner progressed slowly, more so than usual because my mother seemed to have hundreds of questions for Kara. In fact, as opposed to Jisung and Felix being the objects of my mother’s contempt, that title seemed to belong to everyone excluding Kara. Chan and I were rarely spoken to, and Jisung was only addressed when my mother complained that he was chewing too loudly. “Do you see my son-in-law?” she complained to Kara like they were old friends. “He’s never had good table manners.”

I held tightly to Jisung’s hand when I felt him tense next to me. “Jisung’s always been that way,” Kara replied with far too much affection for my liking.

Her comment forced me to recall the very first time I ever met Kara back during my third year of high school. She was a year younger than Jeongin, so she came into our high school as a shy Freshman with only Changbin as an ally. And Changbin loved to brag about how smart his sister was, claiming that she didn’t even need to study because she could memorize everything the teacher said in class. But Changbin hadn’t been exaggerating and I had been slightly jealous of Kara’s easygoing nature, seamlessly inserting herself into our lives as if she had always belonged there. The truth of the matter was that Kara had been attending a private school for most of her life because of her higher intelligence. The school was located hours away from where we lived so we never saw Kara except in brief passing when she came home on the weekends. However, Kara insisted that she wanted a normal high school life, so she enrolled at our local public institution with the goal of making new friends and getting a taste of what her brother always talked about in their long phone conversations.

At first, Kara stuck tightly to Changbin’s side, but it didn’t take long for her to open up to the rest of our group, including Felix whose crush started the moment Kara first walked through the doors. My poor step-brother was enamored, jealous when Kara would start dating some of the older Seniors. Of course, it didn’t help that Changbin remained adamant that Kara never dated any of his friends because they were, in his words, completely unworthy. So, with the exception of the unfortunate incident of Junior prom, Kara obeyed her brother and only showed the other guys affection in the form of a pat on the head or a gentle shove when they said something funny.

By the time I graduated with Hyunjin, Seungmin, Felix, and Jisung, Kara had become another pillar in our dynamic, even appealing to the older ones like Chan and Minho. Yet, when Jeongin finally entered university with the rest of us, something changed with Kara and she no longer hung out with us as much as she had before. Then, there was the matter of her attending college in an entirely different state, only coming to visit sporadically when Felix would bend over backward to make sure she attended one of his fraternity parties. By the time I graduated from college, Kara was more or less nothing but a distant memory, only coming into fruition on rare occasions. Thus, seeing her here today was definitely disorienting, especially since it was only because of Felix that she was here in the first place.

“Kara, you’re such a wonderful girl,” my mother said. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

I rolled my eyes because my mother seemed to forget my Junior year of high school almost as much as I did. “You’ve been such a gracious host,” Kara said to my mother.

“It’s getting late,” my mother sighed, glancing at my step-father who was moments away from passing out on the couch. “We should get to bed, but the rest of you are more than welcome to stay and chat. I know I took up a lot of the conversation.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jisung muttered.

“Anyways, I’ll call you later on this week, Y/N,” my mother said, offering me a lazy wave before collecting Kara into one of the tightest embraces I had ever seen.

Once my mother and step-father had wandered up the steps, Kara came back into the room with mischievous eyes. “Let’s play a game,” Kara suggested, urging us all around the coffee table. I groaned when Jisung pulled me back into his arms, burying his face into the side of my neck like he was prone to do when he was the slightest bit tipsy.

“No more alcohol for you,” I said, swiping the bottle away from my husband who protested half-heartedly.

“What do you suggest?” Felix asked, looking at Kara with starstruck eyes.

“Maybe truth or dare?” Kara said, squealing like she had forgotten that everyone around the table now had a full-time job.

“Why not,” Felix said, reaching for his discarded bottle of Corona. “Would you like to go first?”

Kara giggled when Felix leaned in closer, lips teasing her exposed collarbones. “Keep it PG,” I requested, glaring at Felix.

“Okay,” Kara said, taking the bottle and placing it onto the table.

“If someone can dare me to get laid, that would be nice,” Jisung said and I reached around to elbow my husband in the side for his smart comment.

I watched as the bottle spun around in its defined circumference before landing on Chan who groaned loudly. “Truth or Dare, Chan!”

“Truth,” Chan said, picking up his bottle of beer. “Knowing you’d guys, I’d be forced to drink the rest of this on a dare and I have to be at the office at six.”

“Are you seeing anyone, Chan?” Kara asked, leaning in close like she was about to hear a juicy secret. Of course, I knew better than anyone because I was often the recipient of Chan’s late-night phone calls when my step-brother would complain to me about his sadly lacking love life.

“No,” Chan huffed, reaching out to give the bottle a powerful spin. “I’m always single.”

I reached across to pat him tenderly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Channie, there’s a girl out there waiting for you!”

Felix let out a drunken squeak, turning to look at Kara with a smile. “Truth or dare, Felix?”

“Dare,” Felix said, bouncing up and down from his spot on the floor like a loose spring.

“I dare you to...

“...call Changbin,” I spoke over Kara, enjoying the identical looks of matching horror on their countenances.

“What?” Felix questioned, intoxicated brain undoubtedly having trouble keeping up with the flow of our conversation.

“Call. Changbin.” I repeated, much slower this time to leave no room for a potential misunderstanding. Unsurprisingly, Kara hesitantly shook her head at Felix as if asking him to ignore my request. “Those are the rules,” I informed her smugly, watching Felix as he took out his phone with a shaky hand. He dialed Changbin’s number and we all sat forward in profound expectation of what was about to happen.

That is until Changbin’s voicemail picked up.

Kara snatched Felix’s phone and quickly hung up the call. “He’s not answering, so let’s move on to something else.”

I frowned as I sat back against Jisung’s chest, frustrated because Changbin had probably chosen an early night’s sleep in exchange for answering a friend’s important phone call. “Truth or Dare, Y/N.”

“Truth,” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest even as Jisung started to rub gentle circles into my hips as if picking up on my irritation.

Kara’s eyes narrowed. “Were you jealous when I kissed Jisung at prom?”

The room was dead silent following her vengeful question. My cheeks flushed at the reminder, feeling Jisung squirm uncomfortably behind me. It was a horrible thing to ask me, especially considering the circumstances surrounding the unholy night that Minho had silently termed “the worst day of Y/N’s life.” But I suppose that Kara felt warranted to ask me considering the fact that I had just tried to expose her to Changbin. “Of course I was,” I snapped at her, twisting the bottle while maintaining a penetrative staring contest with Felix’s love interest.

My shoulders relaxed when the bottle landed on Kara, and I quickly intervened before Felix could give Kara an easy way out of what was rapidly becoming a terrible mistake. “Are you dating Felix again?” I asked, watching as her eyes narrowed from my choice of words.

“It’s truth or dare, Y/N.”

“Are you afraid to answer the question?” I asked her. “Or are you just using Felix like always?”

Another long silence enveloped our gathered group.

“I guess I don’t get a turn?” Jisung whispered into the tense silence of the room.

“Holy shit!” Hyunjin exhaled when I finally finished explaining everything that had happened at my mother’s house the previous evening.

“She’s a total bitch,” I said. “Everyone knows that we don’t talk about that night.”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “Do you remember the ugly suit I wore?”

I glared at my friend. “You’re not helping and we have customers.”

Hyunjin offered me a salute, returning to the register to accept another order while I aggressively wiped down our counters. One of our waitresses watched me with a gaping mouth until I turned to glare at her. She quickly picked up her tray to retreat back into the crowd of college students.

Now, let me start by saying that Junior year prom was never something I was looking forward to attending. The only reason I even went was because Han Jisung asked me to go and my attraction for him had skyrocketed by this time, to the point where I found myself staring at his ass whenever we had gym together and he decided to demonstrate the correct technique for a pull-up. Our friends deemed our relationship inevitable, the romanticized soulmates who met as kids and grew up together with agreeable personalities. Of course, it also helped when puberty hit and suddenly Han Jisung looked less like the little boy I played with on the playground and more like a man whose dick I really wanted to taste.

For a lot of my classmates, Prom meant an unsanctioned night away from the school where they could lose their inhibitions when someone inevitably spiked the punch bowl. There were no school officials present at the event, only volunteers, and since it didn’t take place on school grounds (but inside of a nearby YMCA) everyone could basically do whatever they wanted without consequence. Thus, the next day’s rumor mill was spinning with tales of romance and deceptions, break-ups and hook-ups, and even the occasional wild story of someone stealing from the radio store next door.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Jisung asked me nervously the moment we first walked inside.

“Sure,” I told him, affectionately adjusting the cute bowtie he had chosen for the occasion, cheeks rosy red as he hurried away.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin said, taking Jisung’s place in front of me. “You look great!”

“So do you,” I told him honestly, appraising his suit which likely cost a thousand dollars just to rent for this one occasion. “Where’s your girl?”

“Who knows, she was just meant to be arm candy,” Hyunjin said dismissively and I snorted at his explanation. “I only came here for the drama and the alcohol.”

“Anything interesting so far?” I asked, grinning when I saw Jisung accidentally knock the punch ladle into the floor.

“Changbin came with a Freshman,” Hyunjin said. “I talked to them earlier and he’s definitely only interested in her ass.”

“How crude,” I remarked. “What about the others?”

“I guess Seungmin and Jeongin came with each other,” Hyunjin snickered. “And I haven’t seen Felix yet.”

I paused. “Felix is coming?”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Hyunjin explained. “Apparently, Felix is bringing someone he really likes.”

“I didn’t know Felix was interested in anyone,” I said, with the exception of Changbin’s little sister, of course.

“It’s getting late,” Hyunjin remarked. “He might have been lying.”

“He wasn’t dressed when I left the house,” I said, remembering the sight of my step-brother teasing Jisung and I from behind our parents while they took an endless amount of pictures while relentlessly questioning Jisung about his appearance.

Speaking of which, I graciously accepted the punch Jisung offered me, taking a sip before wincing. “I think someone added way too much.”

Hyunjin reached for my drink, sniffing the rim before downing the rest. “Not too bad.”

Jisung watched him with wide eyes. “Isn’t that strong?”

“Not strong enough,” Hyunjin complained. “I’m going to find something better. Have fun you two, make sure you use a condom if you’re gonna fuck.”

I glared at Hyunjin’s back as he disappeared into the crowd.

Yes, Prom might not have been high on my list of priorities, but the way Jisung was currently kissing me definitely made it more appealing. After ingesting an appropriate amount of alcohol, a tipsy Jisung had latched himself to my side, whispering rather inappropriate things into my ear before I inevitably found a place where we could be alone, safely tucked away inside the locker room. I drug Jisung to a bench where I immediately straddled his thighs, kissing him with enough force to throw him off balance, hand splayed across my hip as he forced his tongue inside my mouth tasting strongly of alcohol. I struggled to pull in enough oxygen to counter the dizziness threatening to send me falling into the floor. Jisung certainly wasn’t helping matters, squeezing my breasts spilling over the neckline of my dress while pressing sloppy kisses to my throat, erection hard through his dress pants and I had never felt hornier in my entire life. And that includes the time Minho bought me a vibrator for my birthday as a joke but I still tried to use it and ended up masturbating to the thought of Jisung fucking me on my mattress.

“You feel so good,” Jisung whispered to me now, rolling his hips into mine as he sought additional friction. I held tightly to the lapels of his jacket because it felt really nice through the thin fabric of my dress when he would move just right, pressing against my clit with a wonderful pressure that nearly made me cum before he could even put it inside.

“Sungie,” I panted into his ear, tasting every inch of his beautiful honey-golden skin. “Please fuck me.”

“Can I?” Jisung asked, thrusts growing erratic as if affected by just the thought of his cock hot and heavy between my thighs. “Yes, of course, baby. I’ll do that for you.”

“Condom?” I managed, reconnecting our lips because I was quickly coming to the realization that Jisung was a wonderful kisser.

“Shit,” he cursed against my mouth. “I left them in the car.”

“I’ll get them,” I said, reaching deep into the pocket of his suit pants for the key, inadvertently brushing against his cock.

Jisung moaned loudly. “Hurry back, baby.”

“And this!” I said, standing up from his lap to reach into my cleavage to pull out a piece of fabric.

“That was in there the whole time?”

“Not important,” I said, shoving the fabric at him. “Put this on?”

“What is it?” Jisung asked, unraveling the cloth.

“A blindfold,” I said and he looked up at me with evident surprise.

“Why do you want me to wear a blindfold?”

“Just put it on, please,” I begged him.

“Why?” Jisung whined, a complete contradiction to the mess he looked with an erection still prominent in his pants.

“I don’t want you to see me,” I said, blushing at the thought of Han Jisung seeing me naked because I was certainly nothing like those busty girls in the porn magazines I found under his mattress.

“Okay,” Jisung grumbled, probably because he was just as aroused as I was even if that meant doing something that might seem utterly ridiculous to anybody else.

“Don’t take it off,” I warned him, glancing over my shoulder to see Jisung tying the blindfold in place.

Satisfied, I silently rushed back into the gym, making my way to the exit despite the obscene displays taking place all around me courtesy of several pairings of passionate couples. I did my best to ignore them, even though I was pretty sure I saw Hwang Hyunjin in the center of the dance floor, shirt unbuttoned and chest exposed for everyone to see. But Hyunjin loved to be at the center of attention, so I left him to entertain the majority of the women flanking to him like a magnet while I jerked open the door to Jisung’s Sudan, finding the condoms across the dirty backseat of his car.

I grew even more excited just by looking at them, hiding them carefully in my hand as I rushed through the parking lot in my haste to find Jisung again. At this point, the party was in full swing, music loud and pounding, testing the acoustics of the YMCA which probably never hosted anything else this insane and chaotic before. But I was on cloud nine, ready to finally have sex with someone I had been crushing on ever since Jisung had shown off his abs to a doubtful Changbin. However, when I re-opened the doors to the locker room, I stumbled in my heels as I was greeted with an unfortunate visual. An unforgettable image of Kara on top of Jisung, kissing him passionately while she practically forced him to grope her chest. “Y/N,” Jisung moaned, apparently completely unaware of who was actually grinding on his dick.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” I finally shrieked, completely horrified at the display that would forever engrain itself into my subconscious.

Jisung immediately pulled off his blindfold, eyes widening in shock when he unceremoniously dumped Kara into the floor who loudly protested. “Y/N?”

“Jisung,” I said, looking back between him and Kara with panicked eyes and a broken heart. I had never felt so betrayed before in my entire life, and there had been moments when I felt downright disgusted with my poor choice in men. But Jisung was more important to me than the casual flings from my past, which probably explains my sudden desire to escape the situation that was forcing messy tears through the mascara clumping my eyelashes together. I left Jisung behind in that nasty locker room before losing myself to the crowd of my classmates.

There was only one person I wanted to see, and I found Hyunjin now re-clothed, talking to some other girls when he first saw me approach. He greeted me cheerfully, only realizing my condition once he stopped to notice the tears falling freely from my tired eyes. “Y/N,” Hyunjin said, expression falling as he pulled me into his arms tightly. “Why are you crying?”

“I saw her with Jisung,” was all I managed to get out before Hyunjin’s eyes were practically blazing with fury.

“That little shit,” Hyunjin cursed, grabbing my hand and leading me through the partygoers who were too busy drunkenly grinding on one another to notice the two of us. “Changbin,” Hyunjin said, interrupting the older boy who was currently fingering the edges of a freshman girl’s panties, practically dry humping through their clothes.

“What is it?” Changbin snapped at Hyunjin, eyes narrowed until they landed on me. “Y/N,” Changbin said, tone much softer as he abruptly dismissed his date who whined about their loss of contact. “What happened?”

“Jisung needs his ass kicked,” Hyunjin said and Changbin needed no further encouragement.

“Where the hell is he?”

It was frigidly cold in the parking lot and there was way too much going on around me. I could barely handle the yelling between Changbin and Felix, my step-brother having found us outside with Jisung trailing behind him, but Hyunjin was arguing with Seungmin and Jeongin, refusing to let Jisung close to me. This night was rapidly becoming one of the worst of my entire life and that says a lot because I had once watched my own father walk out of the house without so much as a goodbye.

“Get out of the way, Felix,” Changbin suddenly growled, fists balled at his sides.

“It’s not his fault,” Felix tried to explain.

“Why is Y/N upset, then?” Changbin demanded, shouldering his way through Seungmin and Jeongin who were certainly no match for a physically stronger Changbin.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Felix said. “It’s Kara’s fault! She didn’t need to take things that far-”

“Kara!” Changbin interrupted, now even more furious than he was before. “Did you do something to my sister?”

“Not him,” Seungmin suddenly interfered. “Kara and Felix got into a fight and Kara snuck into the locker room to get back at him.”

Changbin took a step back, suspicion bright in his dark eyes. “What did you say?”

“I thought it was Y/N,” Jisung finally spoke up, eyes wet with tears. “She didn’t say anything to me. She just came over and I was waiting for Y/N!”

“What happened to my sister!” Changbin growled.

“She kissed me,” Jisung said, flinching a little when Changbin tried to charge at him, intercepted by Seungmin and Jeongin who held him back by his with as much force as they could manage together. Jisung turned to look at me, gaze entreating as he reached out a hand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought it was you.”

I shook my head, refusing to even look at Han Jisung because my heart was hurting in my chest and the night just continued to grow more and more confusing. “I’ll take care of Y/N,” Hyunjin finally said, sending Jisung a nasty glare before guiding me further and further away from the source of my pain.

But don’t ever let anyone tell you that Seo Changbin didn’t have a soft spot for Han Jisung because, at the drop of a hat, the older boy would immediately be at my husband’s side. And I thoroughly took advantage of this when I asked Jisung to invite Changbin over to our house for dinner one night, the two of them arriving together with Changbin clutching tightly to his sleeping bag. “I guess you’re spending the night,” I remarked.

“Why wouldn’t I? We work at the same place,” came Changbin’s usual response, tossing his bag onto the couch while he followed Jisung into our bedroom, complaining about something to do with the air conditioning. “Your apartment is so much nicer than mine!”

I finished cooking in relative peace, making sure to keep Changbin’s wine glass constantly full because a tipsy Changbin was much easier to deal with than the serious version who would likely explode when he heard my story. “So nice of you Y/N,” Changbin said as he slurped his spaghetti. He and Jisung were always messy when it came to pasta so I tried to ignore their nasty habits.

“Changbin,” I said, studying the older carefully. “I heard Kara was visiting.”

Changbin shrugged, shoving more food into his impossibly small mouth. “She’s been staying at my place.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why haven’t we had a chance to meet her again.”

Changbin glanced up at me. “You don’t even like, Kara, so why would I bother?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “She’s your sister, of course, I would be interested.”

“She stays busy a lot,” Changbin said.

“With who?”

“With work,” Changbin said, taking another long drink of the expensive wine I bought just for this occasion.

“She could have come tonight,” I said carefully, but I had been apparently pushing too far because now Changbin was suspicious.

“What are you getting at, Y/N?”

I took a deep breath, sensing Jisung watching the two of us over a mouthful of noodles. “I saw Kara the other day at my mother’s dinner.”

Changbin paused, considering me with a scowl. “What?”

“She came to our dinner,” I repeated. “With Felix.”

And with the exception of Jisung’s chewing, the room had grown relatively silent. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Changbin turned an accusatory gaze at Jisung who just rapidly shook his head and drank more wine. “Probably because she didn’t want anyone to know,” I said. “I think your sister might be trying to start something with Felix again and we both know how badly that turned out last time.”

Changbin dropped his fork, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “So nice of everyone to keep me informed.”

I relaxed a little because Changbin wasn’t reacting as violently as I thought he might. “I wanted to be sure and I got the information I needed today.”

Changbin sighed. “What information?”

“Minho looked through Felix’s phone at their dance practice,” I said. “He saw some messages with Kara. Apparently, they’re going to dinner tomorrow night. Isn’t that nice?”

Changbin’s jaw clenched as he took in this news. “And I’m assuming you have something planned?”

“Maybe,” I said with an innocent shrug. “It could be that Minho, Hyunjin, and I happened to make a reservation at the same place.”

“You’re gonna spy on them?”

“Would you rather us not?”

Changbin scoffed, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Are you asking me to come?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Well of course I do,” Changbin grunted impatiently, reaching down for another forkful of spaghetti while I sat back in my chair with satisfaction.

“This is surprisingly classy of Felix,” Hyunjin remarked, rolling down the window of Minho’s SUV to perch a pair of binoculars on the end of his nose.

“Aren’t you taking this too far?” Minho asked his friend.

“These?” Hyunjin asked, adjusting the lenses. “How else am I supposed to see what’s going on?”

“This is my sister we’re talking about,” Changbin spoke up, tugging at the frayed sleeves of his borrowed jacket.

“And Y/N’s stepbrother,” Minho added.

“I don’t claim him by blood,” I said, reaching over to slap Changbin’s hands. “Stop messing with that, you’re gonna ruin it, and this is Jisung’s nicest coat!”

My husband in question had opted to stay at home since he was probably the smartest out of all of us when it came to potential confrontations. “You’re rich enough to buy him another,” Changbin grumbled.

“He doesn’t wear them,” I said. “I buy him all sorts of clothes, but they always sit in his closet.”

“Who’s he trying to impress at an Elementary school?” Hyunjin snorted.

“Can’t we just go inside already?” I asked, slowly massaging my throbbing temples.

“Yeah, but can you shimmy the lock on your door?” Minho requested. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”

I accommodated his request before the four of us walked into the restaurant with an air of nonchalance. Nothing but four friends since childhood deciding to eat out together for a gourmet meal. It reminded me of college when the four of us shared the same lecture, a one-time occurrence because Minho forgot a general education course, and we always ate together because it ended in the early evening.

Of course, there was always the matter of the other three using me to find the answers to our homework assignment because they didn’t feel like completing the calculations.

The hostess inside the restaurant greeted us, checking Hyunjin’s reservation before leading us to our table. “Do you see them?” Hyunjin asked, deciding not to be so discreet in the distracting way he moved his head around, surveying the restaurant landscape with a sharp eye.

“This is so stupid,” Changbin grimaced.

“Are you too cool to eat with us?” Minho joked, gasping when he noticed the free wine samples menu.

“I’ll look around,” I said. “Give me five minutes.”

“And then what?” Hyunjin asked even as I was already moving away, sticking to the outskirts of the finely decorated tables. According to Minho, Felix and Kara should have already been at the restaurant for half an hour, probably weighing the consequences of keeping their new affair a secret from the rest of us. But I had no intention of letting them sneak away with anything, determined to get to the bottom of whatever relationship Felix was attempting with Changbin’s little sister, the same person who had openly scorned and rejected Felix in the past. This really demonstrates just how powerful a crush can be when it involves someone as determined as Felix.

“Aha!” I murmured quietly, discovering the couple together near the private dining room at the back. Reaching for my cell phone, I sent Minho a quick text message, waiting for a moment or so before I could see the three boys carefully making their way to my hiding spot.

“Ridiculous,” Changbin muttered, but he let out a disappointed sigh when he saw his sister and Felix together. “I guess you were right.”

Changbin was squatting down in front of the display of plants, peeling back the branches to find a better view. “Damn, Changbin,” I said, reaching down to give his ass an appreciative slap. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Changbin snapped at me. “It’s not my fault that Han’s flatter than his vocal pitch.”

“Burn,” Hyunjin remarked while I scoffed in response.

“Jisung is a great singer.”

“Yeah, the kids are so impressed,” Minho giggled, ignoring the glare I sent him over my shoulder.

“They can’t be dating,” Changbin said. “I would have known about this. Kara would have told me!”

“That definitely looks like a date to me,” Minho teased Changbin.

“Unless friends share five-star meals now,” Hyunjin commented, glancing at me. “Interested in eating out again tomorrow, Y/N?”

“Only if you pay,” I replied dryly, watching Felix and Kara with intent.

“I can’t stand this,” Changbin declared, attempting to blow our cover by rising to his full height.

I desperately tugged on his shirt. “They’ll see us!”

“I don’t care,” Changbin grunted, pulling away from me only to march down the staircase to where Felix and Kara were laughing together over a meal of what appeared to be filet mignon and cabernet.

“Should we watch or get involved?” I asked, grinning when Felix finally realized that Changbin had spotted them. The all-consuming look of existential dread passing across his features was well worth the price of admission, including an outrageous gratuity fee.

“Definitely watch,” Minho nodded, tossing an arm around my shoulders. “You did good, Y/N.”

“Unless Changbin causes a scene,” Hyunjin remarked.

“I hope he does because I can record it for Jisung later,” I said, letting out a satisfied grin when Changbin stopped at their table.

Minho was one step ahead of me, pressing the record button at the top of his phone. “Maybe we’ll become YouTube famous!”

“I can’t believe you told him,” Felix snapped at me later. The six of us were outside the restaurant, having decided to pull Changbin and Kara away from the reproachful eyes of the upper elite who wanted to dine in peace.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m looking out for you.”

“By outing me to Changbin?”

“Of course,” I nodded, watching as Kara received a stern lecture from her older brother. “You can’t honestly be considering a relationship with Kara?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Felix asked.

“You must have a selective memory,” I said. “Or did you forget what happened in high school?”

“That was a long time ago!”

“She also used you during college. Don’t tell me you think she came around campus just for your company?”

Hyunjin, from somewhere to my right, let out a low whistle. Minho stood next to him, taking in the drama unfolding around him with eager eyes. “I don’t care about any of that!” Felix protested. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Felix,” I said, lowering my tone. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Well you’re doing a really bad job with that,” Felix snapped.

“It’s not because I don’t want things to work out,” I said. “I just know who she is and what she’s capable of.”

“Is that so?”

“You were too, Felix! Everything she ever did to you was always in an effort to hurt you. That’s why I have to interfere, to make sure that she doesn’t do anything like that!”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t care. You aren’t my real sister, so stop trying to act like it!”

His words were crushing and I suddenly felt equivalent to the world’s smallest person as I watched Felix walk away into the haze of city lights.

Jisung was sunshine and he once told me that he would do everything in his power to make me happy, even getting down on one knee to propose at our college graduation ceremony, nervous hands sliding a beautiful ring onto my finger. Jisung always knew when I was feeling sad or angry, dropping everything that he had been working on to make me feel better. Like in instances such as this, when my step-brother publicly disowns me, walking away without looking back once to assess the damage he had made of my fragile heart. “I deserved it,” I told Jisung, closing my eyes against his chest as I enjoyed the soothing water of the bath he prepared for me.

“No, you didn’t,” Jisung countered, wrapping his arms tightly around my middle. “You thought you were helping him.”

“I guess I have no right to interfere,” I said. “Even if I’m worried that Kara will only hurt him again.”

“And she might,” Jisung agreed. “But I think Felix can handle it. Sometimes, you forget that he’s all grown up.”

“I ruined our relationship,” I said. “Felix won’t ever talk to me again and Kara is probably mad at Changbin.”

“Felix can’t avoid you,” Jisung said. “You have the same friends.”

“Ha,” I snorted. “You don’t know Felix very well. If he sets his mind to something, then there’s nothing that can stop him.”

“Actually, I do know Felix, and that’s why I’m pretty sure he’ll call you any day now and ask to talk.”

I turned around in his arms, trying to see any hint of teasing in Jisung’s brown eyes. “Why do you think that?”

“Because Felix respects you, even if you make him mad,” Jisung said, surprising me with a gentle kiss. “He told me all the time when we were younger that he thinks you’re one of the coolest people he’s ever met.”

“Felix said that?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded. “And I completely agree.”

“You’re obligated to say that,” I said. “Marriage and shit.”

“But I’ve always meant it, Y/N,” Jisung insisted. “You have a really good heart and you always have our best intentions in mind, even if that means you feel the need to spy on your step-brother.”

“Now it sounds creepy,” I complained.

“I can’t imagine you dragging around Changbin, Minho, and Hyunjin, hiding behind tables in the middle of an expensive restaurant.”

“That’s funny because I can’t imagine you in an expensive restaurant at all.”

“Really?” Jisung grinned, digging his fingers into my sides. “Try saying that again.”

I squealed in his arms, pleading for mercy. “I thought you wanted to relax?”

“This was all for you,” Jisung said, pulling me onto his lap. “I think we should go to bed early.”

“I am tired,” I smirked.

His cock was hard against my lower back. “What if I let you ride my face?”

“Then you’ll be the best husband in the world.”

The following Saturday, Jisung’s prediction came true when Felix’s name flashed across my phone screen while I enjoyed lunch with Seungmin and Jeongin. “It’s Felix,” I hissed at them before taking the call. “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Felix’s deep voice greeted me on the other end. “I hope you’re not busy.”

“I’m just having lunch,” I said, waving my hand at Seungmin who was attempting to mouth imperceptible words at me from across the table.

“I want to apologize for the other night with Kara,” Felix said. “At dad’s house and at the restaurant.”

“I’m sorry too, Felix,” I said. “I shouldn’t have told Changbin about his sister.”

“No,” Felix sighed. “But Changbin deserves to know the truth. He called me the other day and told me that Kara had left the next morning. She didn’t even bother telling him where she was going.”

I felt my heartbreak for my step-brother. “I didn’t think she would do that.”

“You don’t have to be nice, Y/N,” Felix said. “Everything you said about Kara was true and I should’ve listened.”

“I never did any of that to teach you a lesson, Felix.”

“Yeah,” Felix murmured into the phone. “It doesn't matter anymore. Kara’s gone and I’ll have to move on.”

“But I still feel really bad,” I said. “Maybe we could all hang out tonight? Like we did before we had adult things to worry about.”

Felix chuckled. “I think that sounds nice.”

“Keep your hands away from the food,” I scolded Jisung, giving his ass a firm slap before directing him out of the kitchen. “This is for the party tonight!”

“But it smells good,” Jisung complained.

“You can have as much as you want later,” I said, frowning at Changbin from across the room. “Are you trying to break my mother’s vase?”

The older boy scowled at me. “I can’t reach, alright? You were the one who asked me to decorate.”

“Please help him,” I said, sending Jisung rushing to hang up the streamers before Changbin could possibly sabotage our apartment. The others were due to arrive at any moment and I was already unprepared, food still cooking and my husband and his friend proving to be completely inept at decorating. I wanted everything to be nice for Felix, but honestly? He shouldn’t expect much from this crew.

Graciously, the arrival of Hyunjin brought about an extra few inches of height, allowing the streamers to hang gracefully from the mantlepiece. “What would you do without me, Y/N?” he inquired innocently, handing me the cake he had brought from our cafe.

“I’d need to buy a step ladder,” I teased him, rushing back into the safety of the kitchen to avoid his retaliation. In the meantime, Jisung happily answered the door for our other guests, ushering them inside to crowd our living room. Sadly, our apartment was never meant to be large enough to accommodate this many guests, but it was strangely cozy with all of us together.

“It’s been a while,” Chan remarked to Changbin. “Why don’t we do this sort of thing anymore?”

“Beats me,” Changbin replied. “But Y/N has a nice selection of wine.”

“I’m glad that’s the reason you come around,” I remarked, bringing out the final tray of food to fill out the rest of the table. “Whenever Felix gets here we can eat.”

“He shouldn’t be so late,” Minho said, trying his best to sneak a cube of cheese from the corner.

“Patience my friend,” I said. “It will make everything taste so much better.”

“Not with your cooking,” Minho teased, protesting when I threw my oven mitt at him over the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room.

“You’ll never change,” I remarked.

“Why would you want me to?” Minho asked, ignoring my glare when he grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“Do you want to be suspended from my house?”

“Jisung would never allow it,” he said, whining at my husband. “Right, Sungie?”

Jisung looked back and forth between the two of us. “You two are sometimes worse than my kids at school.”

Before I could offer a compelling comeback, the ringing of our doorbell paused our conversation. The sound indicated Felix’s arrival and Seungmin was the first to greet him, holding him close as they entered the dining room. “Nice of you to join us,” I said, handing my step-brother a plate. “This is all for you.”

“I’m honored,” Felix said, accent thick as he abruptly pulled me into a vice-like grip that nearly knocked me off my feet.

“Too much,” I choked out.

“Don’t kill my wife,” Jisung joked, intervening before Felix could possibly squeeze any more oxygen from my lungs.

The remainder of the evening passed by with a nostalgic tone, the nine of us gathered together in the living room to watch anime on TV while Hyunjin complained about our newest hiree again. “Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in my direction. “He already had two strikes. One more mess-up and he’s gone.”

“He’s just a kid, Hyunjin,” I said. “Remember when you used to work at Starbucks? I’m surprised you even managed to stay on for an entire year!”

Hyunjin protested loudly over the laughter of 8 other people who clearly remembered sitting in Starbucks on Campus just to watch Hyunjin mess-up orders while whining at the customers to slow down when he was in charge of the register. “He gave me a macchiato when I asked for an Americano,” Minho said.

“One time, Hyunjin closed the store an hour early because he forgot about our project,” Seungmin interjected much to Hyunjin’s chagrin who was now very much embarrassed.

Jisung pulled me closer to him on the chair next to the fireplace, watching our friends talk with obvious affection. “I think Felix is happy.”

I nodded my agreement, observing him from afar. “We did a good job.”

“You did a good job,” Jisung corrected, leaning in closer to whisper directly into my ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you more,” I said, gripping tightly to Jisung’s hand with no intention of ever letting go because our hold on another had never lessened from the very first day we met as kids, unaware that we would be sharing the rest of our forever together.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #stray kids han #han fanfic #han smut

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shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years

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cheat code (1/2) duff mckagan x reader x izzy stradlin

+++++++++

part 1 part 2

Disclaimer: the beginning reads kind of weird as far as specifics so here's a reminder that y/n is not dating or with any of the gnr guys. It's about someone else but he doesn't get a name.

Song: Rubi by doll skin

tag list: @cynic-spirit @satans-arse @slashscowboyboots

+++++++++

I pushed my head deep into my hands and tried to stifle the sob that escaped my lips. My whole body was shaking as I sat by myself on the floor in the corner of the room. It was still fairly dark out but I knew my regular morning alarm would be going off soon, it was almost 4 after all. It was the alarm I had set every day for the last six months, the time Duff was usually up to call me after a long night doing whatever the hell it was they did. I peaked reluctant through my fingers at the completely trashed room.

Bedding and dresser drawers had been thrown about in anger. I didn't care at the time though but I knew it would hurt worse when I had to clean it up later. When the initial shock finally left my body and mind that is. I still loved him. I sobbed angrily as another hot tear slid down my cheek. I relaxed a little bit, my legs slowly sliding down away from my body. It was everything I could do to stand up, my whole body protesting as I pressed my back into the open window. The curtains whipped about my ankles but I couldn't remember when I had opened it, it must have been during my rampage to get him packed and out of my house. It may be after, when I had reluctantly lit the long forgot about cigarette. It was stale and burned my throat as I inhaled it. It had been so long since I'd given into my vices.

I sighed out heavily, looking at the torn sheets on the mattress and immediately making the decision to get rid of it. All I could see there now was her legs wrapped around his waist. It wasn't fair. He had told me he loved me. I hated myself for believing him. A sorrow fell over me as I recalled the events of the night before. I came home late, working longer than usual. I had called him earlier about lunch time to tell him I would be. He seemed more than alright with that which should've been the first sign. When I walked in the door, food in hand, I could hear him moaning softly which should've been the second. By the time I had propped the door open I was hit in the face with the harsh reality that he had been cheating on me.

I stared at them in anger for a moment before absolutely losing it. I screamed the loudest profanity I could muster before dropping the bag I was holding and yanking her off of him by the hair. She protested greatly, yelling at me to leave her boyfriend alone. I closed my eyes tightly as I ran the words over in my mind again. 'her boyfriend.' it made me wanna vomit. As soon as the words left her mouth all I could do was slap her, my face getting redder in anger. He tried to pull me away but all he got was a solid scolding and punch to the nose. I practically ran to the closet to get a suitcase, throwing all of his belongings at him and demanding he get out. That's why the room was now a mess. I emptied every nook and cranny I could, trying to get him out of my room, house, and mind.

It wasn't fair and here I was left with the phantom of the one I once loved. His fling killing my hope and desire for life. I jolted back to reality as my alarm finally sounded. I looked at it for a second before grabbing it with both hands and yanking the whole machine out of the wall. I screamed as I smashed it under me, a loud crash against the carpet as it busted into pieces of plastic and worn wires.

"Fuck!"

I yelled, sobbing again. It felt like The tears where melting my face, the river running down as a harsh reminder of heartbreak. Then as if on queue the phone rang. I debated not picking it up but if duff needed me like the last few times he had called I knew I would regret it. I tried calming down for a second but it didn't work so I picked up the reciever anyway. I didn't say anything at first, hearing what I assumed to be a party in the background.

"Hello?"

I heard. I closed my eyes.

"Duff it's not really a good time."

I managed out, my voice cracking and wavering. There was a short laugh.

"It's not duff, it's Izzy."

He announced boldly. I drew my brows together.

"He told me to call you though. We were gonna take a walk on the strip and wanted to know if you were game to join."

I closed my eyes tightly, letting the last few tears fall. I made a split second decision.

"When?

I heard cheering but not from him. Then the I heard shuffling.

"Hey y/n it's duff. We're getting a cab and we'll be over. Wear your hottest outfit and leave your boyfriend at home cause you're partying with the top selling band guns n roses tonight!"

He practically yelled, the music changing in the background to something with a heavy beat. His words kind of stung but I complied anyway.

"Alright duff."

I said reluctantly, thanking any divine power he was too gone to hear the hurt in my voice. Then the phone clicked off. I looked around the room again for a split second before making my way to my closet. I flipped through the few remaining items in it before plucking a leather mini skirt off a hanger followed by a mesh under shirt and crop top. I looked at the items in my hands for a long moment before realizing they would be here soon. I trudged to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. This was the first time I'd seen my reflection since I'd left work the night before and God was I a mass. My hair was tossed about in a tangled bunch and my makeup had since been washed off by the tears, faint mascara lines at the bases of my eyes. I looked broken that was for sure.

I sighed heavily and got to work. I started by brushing my hair out and stripping completely. It felt good to get my old clothes off finally. I ran the shower and stepped in, washing my face first before doing everything else quickly. When I stepped out I dried off and got dressed, pulling the shirts down over the red bra I hadn't yet had a chance to wear. It was supposed to be a birthday surprise for my now ex so I guess it didn't really matter if I wore it. I looked over myself before drying my hair and lining my eyes with eye liner. I looked halfway decent and was kind of proud I could put myself together even after having a full mental breakdown. As I was putting my boots on I heard a knock at the door.

This was the first time I'd left my room since I demanded he leave with that bitch. The rest of the house was just as trashed and I stood there shocked for a second. My book shelf was flat on it's face, books and records thrown around the room. Vases and flower pots where smashed into the carpet and my TV was on its side in the middle of the room. Another knock at the door shook me from my trance and I rushed to open it. When I did Izzy and duff were both standing there, sleazy smiles on their faces.

"Hot damn y/n you clean up nice."

Duff admired, making me blush.

"Thanks Duffy."

I said, trying not to let them look in my house. Then izzys face fell.

"Y/n what the fuck happened here?"

He said, pushing past me and into my dimly lit house, the rising sun making things glow in it's wake. Duff looked at me concerned before doing the same. I turned around and stared at them, inspecting the disaster that was my life.

"And where what's his face?"

Duff snapped, pointing at me and noticing my boyfriend's absence. I sighed.

"He's probably somewhere dicking down his new play thing."

I said a little hurt, venom dripping through the sentence and into their ears. They exchanged knowing glances.

"Is that cab still here? Cause I'm gonna go find him and kill him."

Izzy said pushing past me again.

"Wait!"

I said grabbing his arm and spinning him back to face me.

"Don't."

I breathed out. There was enough hurt for one night and I was done with it.

"What happened?"

Duff said softly, sobering up quickly. My face fell. Now I had to be faced with the truth again.

#wattpad #x reader #duff mckagan #Izzy Stradlin #jeffrey isbell #mike mckagan #imagines #one shots #gnr #249

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xbaebsae · 4 years

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OTP Questions

Tagged by @f0xyboxes , @dieguzguz, @nightwingshero, @deputyrhiannonhale and @returnofthepd3 thanks for thinking of me sweethearts♥

(art by minilev)

Rheese Bennett & Jacob Seed (idk if anyone even reads these except me but under cut because long post)

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Jacob. Now don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t loose his cool all that easy but Rheese can be a pain sometimes and he lacks the patience.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither of them.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? This is actually what Rheese does when they break up about three months before the game. He finally is too deluded by Joseph’s demands of him that she cannot get through to him anymore and keep him from hurting people. They have a pretty bad fight about him torturing people that ends with him actually slapping her with the intention of making her shut up because she wouldn’t stop arguing against him. She gives him one moment to apologize for that, but he doesn’t so she leaves :’)

Who trashes the house? They frequently throw things at each other.

Do either of them get physical? Depends on when. Jacob pushes her around sometimes or touches her pretty roughly when he suffers from the effects of his PTSD. No domestic violence though. They also land real blows in training fights, same level bad on both sides really.

It’s worse during the arrest when they aren’t together anymore. Jacob was pretty devastated when he realized she actually left for good (he interpreted ‘i am leaving’ as her going home). It resulted in a lot of self blame (justified) which his family couldn’t really deal with. Joseph convinced him in the end that she was just another test he had to overcome in his life to find his correct path. So, he pretty much behaves just like he does in-game. She doesn’t get special treatment, she gets starved and thrown into murder trials like everyone else.

How often do they argue/disagree? Pretty often. In the beginning it’s all they do, until they realize that having normal conversations every once in a while isn’t so bad actually.

Who is the first to apologize? Apologies are for the weak :)

SEX

Who is on top? Jacob

Who is on the bottom? Rheese (though she won’t admit it if you asked her)

Who has the strangest desires? It’s nothing very strange tbh (at least not by my definition of strange... god i’ve seen ... things on deviantart. Definetly none of that!)

Any kinks? Yeah, the perfect combo of wanting to feel powerless and wanting to feel in control. It complies with their character really. Rheese was forced to take care of herself ever since her teen years, which developed her into a pretty tough person. She likes the control she has over her life, and doesn’t let herself be pushed around by anyone. Feeling stripped of that control is however really exciting for her. Jacob’s kinda the other way around (imo anyway) in that he’s constantly following orders nevermind when or where, even within his own family (to not disappoint Joseph).

Who’s dominant in bed? Jacob, Rheese only if he forces her to be :)

Is head ever in the equation? Yes

If so, who is better at performing it? Rheese. Slightly unfair though because she’s simply worse on the receiving end.

Ever had sex in public? Yeah, much to her dismay.

Who moans the most? Rheese

Who leaves the most marks? Both do in different ways.

Who is the more experienced of the two? Jacob

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Even the nastiest sex is ‘making love’ to them really. It’s frankly a form of talking to them because they both truly suck at verbal communication. Also, Rheese has the old fashioned rule in her life that she won’t sleep with people she isn’t sure about, so before actually being together they don’t have sex. Tho she’s close to breaking that rule multiple times.

Rough or soft? Rough, sometimes foreplay is soft.

How long do they usually last? Depends on time and mood. Also Rheese is a lot younger so she sometimes could go again when he can’t. However that doesn’t mean he gets the best of her sometimes :’)

Is protection used? Yes on her side

Does it ever get boring? No

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Some small cabin at the place they train Judges. It was kinky, they got caught and she prefers to just not talk about it ever again.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children? No, they never wanted to. Their daughter Jaina was an unwanted accident.

If so, how many children do they want/have? They have 1 and that’s already more than they wanted.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Rheese

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Jacob usually. But sometimes she’s good at it as well.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Jacob, and it bothers her a lot in public. He doesn’t really care about what his people think of him, he knows he’s the boss so they can’t say shit. It’s also a way of just showing off that she belongs to him and that’s exactly why she doesn’t like it, cause she ain’t property. Also, people might believe she only became a Chosen trainer because she fucks the boss, which isn’t true because she got that position from someone other than Jake, based entirely on her performance.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Until Rheese falls into deep sleep and starts spreading her limbs everywhere uncontrolably.

Who gives the most kisses? Jacob

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Honestly, just existing next to each other is enough. They are just as happy just sitting in the same room, doing their own tasks, as they are going out for a fishing trip (actually she hates fishing, but the lakes are nice).

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? The bed

How often do they get time to themselves? Usually evenings and nights. They would have more time together if Rheese didn’t value her alone time. Sometimes she prefers to spend her days off alone, going on a ride through the forests or just relaxing without anybody around. He doesn’t quite approve of that but she doesn’t let herself be locked up.

SLEEPING

Who snores? None of them

If both do, who snores the loudest? Nobody

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? Share a bed when living together.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Usually fall asleep cuddling but where they end up is entirely up to chance.

What do they wear to bed? Underwear usually. Though t-shirts along with that in the beginning.

Are either of them insomniacs? Jake has trouble sleeping and often wakes up. Her presence helps him but she’s not a magic sleeping pill so the issue never fully disappears.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nah

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Usually the first, when it’s too hot the latter.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Both. Rheese loves his messy hair, especially after she bullied him enough into letting it grow a bit. He however calls her hay-head, because her hair gets all tangled up and poofy despite being tied into a braid.

Who wakes up first? He does, good luck getting her outta bed before 10.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Nobody does, they aren’t romantic.

What is their favourite sleeping position? Rheese digging her face in the space between his neck and shoulders while one leg and one arm hugs him and he has an arm around her.

Do they set an alarm each night? When there’s work the next day.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? No, though she sometimes uses his laptop to watch movies.

Who has nightmares? Jacob has real ones, Rheese only the occasional bad dream we all get sometimes.

Who has ridiculous dreams? She dreams demented shit sometimes, never talks about it though.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Rheese, she’s a restless sleeper. Got kicked out of the bed for it more than once.

Who makes the bed? Neither of them. They don’t care about it being untidy.

What time is bed time? Depends. Usually Rheese stays awake longer to finish watching movies.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Nothing special, sometimes talking, sometimes a movie, sometimes sex, sometimes just hugging in silence.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Jake, esp when she talks too much in the morning.

WORK

Who is the busiest? They both are pretty equally busy.

Who rakes in the highest income? It doesn’t really matter to them. The cult pays food and since they don’t care much about materialism, they don’t need much money.

Are any of them unemployed? They have their job in the cult. Rheese works as a deputy before and after her stay there. so no.

Who takes the most sick days? Neither really take any unless they are really so sick they can’t move. It’s an unhealthy work ethic but they feel useless when just lying in bed all day.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Jake didn’t before, but he sometimes does because of her in the morning. Not that he really minds though, who’s gonna say anything against him?

Who sucks up to their boss? Jacob in regards to Joseph, which Rheese thinks is very unhealthy. She doesn’t like how he lets himself be used so much and mostly blindly follows whatever his brother says. They have a lot of arguments about this and in the end it’s what ruins their relationship.

What are their jobs? He’s head of security at Eden’s Gate. She’s a deputy, then pseudo joins the cult and works herself up to become a trainer of the Chosen, then she returns to her deputy position for the arrest.

Who stresses the most? He does

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Police work wasn’t her passion. It was just a career she thought wouldn’t be boring. No noble motives and such. She only reprises her role as the deputy for the arrest because she falsely blames herself for everyone who’s been hurt by Jake’s hands after she left him. Her return is based on her trying to redeem herself. She had fun training Chosen, but she wouldn’t want to be part of any torture cult.

Jacob barely has any opinion on his work. He believes what he does is what needs to be done and he’s the best suited person for the job. You won’t find him complain, though he secretly just wants peace in his life. He hopes the cult’s actions will ultimately lead to that.

Are they financially stable? They have enough.

HOME

Who does the washing? Neither until one of them is fed up with the pile in the sink or the lack of clean plates in the shelf.

Who takes out the trash? Usually Rheese is bothered by it first.

Who does the ironing? They don’t

Who does the cooking? She makes good pancakes. But other than that? Don’t allow her in the kitchen because she can’t cook for shit. He can cook a couple of things but is often simply too lazy to ‘play housewife’ so their dinners often consist of very simplistic things. Occasionally one of them will bring home takeout.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Rheese, just...keep her out of the kitchen.

Who is messier? Both pretty much. His place is a mess and she isn’t bothered by it because her apartment looked the same.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Jake, to annoy her.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? They both just throw them wherever.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Jake, again to annoy her. (her ‘ewww you’re fucking nasty’ face is really entertaining)

Who is the prankster around the house? Neither, they diss each other a lot, sometimes joke on the other’s cost but no deliberate pranks.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Doesn’t really happen.

Who mows the lawn? No lawn

Who answers the telephone? They answer their own cells respectively. He refuses to get a smartphone.

Who does the vacuuming? They don’t own a vacuum cleaner. Only a broom and a mop.

Who does the groceries? Usually he does.

Who takes the longest to shower? Rheese, she enjoys the feel of hot water on her skin.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Not much difference there. Rheese doesn’t bother anymore with any routines and such after Jake told her he hates when she wears makeup because it makes his hands sticky when he touches her face :’) Though sometimes she will still put eyeliner out of habit.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? No, they don’t need much.

How many cars do they own? Jake own an old truck and a motorcycle, Rheese used to have a car but sold it. She prefers riding on her horse Nugget anyway.

Do they own their home or do they rent? She had an apartment in Missoula before ‘joining’. Then she lived at Stone Ridge for a while, then she moved in with him to his place. A tiny cabin far up a mountain at the far outside of the region.

Do they live in the city or in the country? Country

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Yes, especially the forests.

What’s their song? You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Working, doing their own thing, living. He’s more possessive about her than she is about it. But they both function normally when not being together.

Where did they first meet? Technically at the church during her very first sermon to ‘join’ the project. But they only interacted about a week later when he’s supposed to bring her to her initiation at John’s place. They immediately hate each other :’)

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Whoever does the grocery shopping? They both aren’t big on other shopping trips.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? She’s not very show off-y. Jacob likes showing she ‘belongs to him’.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Both

Any mental issues? Rheese doesn’t really, she lost her parents and her family is extremely distant but it never gave her trauma.

Jacob still deals with the aftermath of war esp. His PTSD gets bad sometimes and he has sleeping issues.

Who’s terrified of bugs? She is afraid of spiders, and would appreciate if he killed them when they are in the house. But usually he ends up throwing them at her and tells her it’s therapy to defeat her fears.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Neither, see above

Their favourite place? A small lake behind a mountain near his cabin.

Who pays the bills? The cult

Do they have any fears for their future? Yeah, they are very conflicted about it. Neither of them know where it all leads and their differences (esp the age one) is an issue at times.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? They don’t really do that.

Who’s the tallest? He’s 6'1, she is 5'2. He constantly calls her ‘Shorty’, not in any endearing cute nickname way, but purely to mock her height.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Happens with both of them frequently. Tho Jacob is more prone to this because he showers less on his own. So when she’s in there he’s often like ‘might as well join’.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Rheese starts this trend which he really doesn’t complain about. She also argues that it makes sense because then there will be less laundry to take care of. Can’t really argue with that really.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? She does, very very badly cause she can’t sing.

What do they tease each other about? Her short height and his age. Always.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Doesn’t really happen but he does judge her Power Rangers T-shirt she wears for sleeping.

Who crushed first? They both kinda did. They blamed it on physical attraction at first, which made Rheese mad because he wasn’t her type. It takes them a couple of months to actually admit they might eventually possibly perhaps maybe have feelings for one another :)

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Not really

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Rheese does once, and another time they do it together.

Who swears the most? Jacob, though she’s pretty good at it too.

Tagging @joeyhxdson @fadedjacket @shallow-gravy @chazz-anova @ja-crispea if you want to. Idk who did this by the time this gets posted.

#tag games #deputy rheese anne bennett #sched

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fanficsrusz · 5 years

Text

A Lesson To Be Learned - John Wick Smut

A/n: Requested by anon so i hope its up to your standards. I tried my best ❤️ obviously it's a smut so don't read if you don't like smut 🤷🏼‍♀️.

Summary: Y/n's co-worker flirts with her causing John to become jealous and remind her who she belongs to.

Masterlist

___________

John watched as y/n dashed around the café, swerving between the tables as she took people's orders.

She would be finishing her shift in 15 minutes and John was here to take her home, yet the buzz of customers still hadn't died down.

Y/n moved behind the counter once she had finished taking the last few orders and her colleague had arrived to take over from her.

y/n removed her apron from around her waist and grabbed her bag before making her way over to a waiting John.

"Hi" she beamed up at him and john couldn't help the small smile that played at his own lips as he saw how happy she looked.

"Hi. You ready to go?" he asked whilst grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the chair and grabbing y/n's bag so she wouldn't have to carry it.

Y/n nodded "yepp. Just give me a second, i need to hand over the keys to Josh".

John couldn't help the grimace he pulled at the mention of his name.

Josh was y/n's colleague. He was kind but he always flirted with y/n and it drove John insane.

"Speak of the devil" y/n waved as josh approached, his arms extended for her to embrace him in a hug.

Josh knew who John was, he knew that he was her boyfriend yet he still felt the need to flirt with her.

"sweetheart, it's so good to see you. You look amazing. Maybe i should take you out sometime"

John clenched his teeth together as he tried to remain calm. Y/n laughed and hugged josh and handed him the keys.

"yeah maybe we can go grab some drinks."

She moved next to john and entangled their arms as she smiled up at him.

"John you remember josh right. He was the one who-"

"bought you the necklace. Yeah i remember him. '' His voice was dark and laced with anger.

Y/n felt how his arm tensed under her touch and she gave a questioning look.

She rubbed his arm and he relaxed a little until josh decided to pipe up once again.

"well someone had to give her some decent shit didn't they, John." sarcasm dripped from josh's mouth as he said John's name and y/n worried for his safety.

She felt John push forward, ready to kill the poor kid with whatever he could get his hands on.

Stepping in front of John to prevent him from doing anything he would regret, y/n began to push john out of the door.

"well look at the time. I think it's time we head home, right honey" she looked up at john who stared murderously at him, only looking down at y/n when she tapped on his chest reassuringly.

His eyes visibly softened when he saw the worry in her eyes.

"see you later josh" y/n smiled awkwardly as john led her outside.

Climbing into John's mustang, y/n noticed how his grip on the steering wheel was extremely tight and his steering wasn't as smooth as it normally was.

Y/n knew john didn't like josh, not because he hated the idea of her having male friends, but because he hated the way he acted with her.

Y/n reached out and placed a hand onto his arm and john looked at her with a darkness glinting in his eyes.

John took a sharp turn down an alley and if it wasn't for her seat belt, y/n would have been thrown into him.

"john? Why did you do tha-"

"you know I don't like him. I don't like the way he flirts with you or the way he looks at your body like he owns you." y/n gulped as john turned to face her.

"maybe i just need to show you exactly who you belong to once again".

Y/n watched as he unbuckled his seat belt and moved closer to her, only stopping when he hovered inches from her ear.

"take all your clothes off" his voice was low and dark, causing y/ns core to tighten with excitement.

She looked around at the alley and blushed deeply. "what if someone sees" she didn't want to undress in the open but at the same time the prospect of being seen excited her.

If y/n really didn't want to do something, he wouldn't make her but the small smile on her face told John that she wanted this.

Pulling his hand to her face, john traced the outline of her lips. His eyes never once leaving hers.

"good, maybe it will teach you that you shouldn't let other men flirt with you. Especially in front of me" he put so much emphasis on the words he spoke and it sent a chill down her spine.

John sat back in his seat as he watched y/n slowly unbutton her blouse, revealing the lacey bra she wore underneath. She was moving painfully slow on purpose just to tease him and john was having none of it

Looking up at john through hooded eyes, y/n watched as john gave her an unamused look.

"don't exacerbate things y/n. You know what i want you to do". Y/n sighed and began to remove her trousers. It was harder due to the confined space but she managed.

Once left in her underwear, john pushed his seat back so that there was a huge distance between him and the steering wheel, enough for another person to sit on top of him.

John patted his lap and y/n moved to straddle his lap.

The position meant john was level with her chest, not that he was complaining but he wanted to punish her a little.

He reached his hand into her hair and pulled her down so their noses practically touched.

"who do you belong to?" his words were bold and y/n inspected his eyes for anything other than lust or hunger for her.

Y/n gulped and encased him in her arms as she brought their lips closer, his breath warm on her face.

"I belong to you" she whispered and john's eyes quickly shifted to a softer glare before darkening and turning into desire once again. The smirk on his face made y/n aware that she was forgiven, but still in need of a lesson.

John pushed his face into hers roughly and their lips collided, his colossal hands ran up her thighs, his hands easily wrapping around them as he made her spread her legs wider. Her crotch now rubbed against his own bulge in his pants. Both let out a moan as they made the contact.

Y/n tried to push her tongue into his mouth as she tried to control the situation but John moved his hand to her ass and squeezed the flesh in between his hands, making her gasp and lose the dominance, john taking over where she left.

Y/n began to grind her hips into his crotch, desperate for any type of contact so she could get her release.

"please" her words were breathless as she begged him to give her the rush she so desperately needed.

John reached up to unclasp her bra, letting it fall into his lap.

Y/n threw her head back as john took a nipple in between his lips, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud. He felt as y/n pushed harder into him, trying to urge him to give her more.

The windows started to fog from the heat that was radiating of the pair as well as the quick breaths that y/n was taking from the intense pleasure she was feeling.

Once satisfied with the work he had done on her nipples, john unzipped his pants allowing his cock to spring free.

Y/n took this time to catch her breath and admire that fact that his dick was painfully hard and she couldn't help but feel on cloud nine that he had gotten so hard just from having her grind on his lap.

John pushed her panties to the side, not wanting to waste time taking them off.

As he lined up his cock with her dripping entrance, john looked into y/ns eyes.

"tell me again who you belong to. Say my name".

Y/n took a mental note of how good he looked in the dimly lit vehicle before she allowed herself to say his name.

"I belong to you,John. You own my ass" satisfied, john rammed himself into her.

Despite the countless times he had fucked her, she was always just as tight as the first time.

He watched as her head fell back and a moan came from her.

Y/n began to slowly bounce up and down on him, grinding her hips in circles. John held onto her hips tightly as he controlled the speed at which she moved. She soon fell into her own rhythm as she lifted her hips before sinking back down onto his length. She took him in deeper each time she came down on him.

John couldn't help but call out her name as she moved atop him.

Her ass bounced mercilessly against his suit clad thighs, the sound of her ass slapping against his thighs interlacing with John's moans mixed with her name.

John was meant to be the one teaching her a lesson, yet he was the one left dizzy with lust. His shirt was pulled open messily from the grasp y/n had on it as she rode him, his trousers hung low on his thighs.

The explosion of pleasure he felt from her movements made john grip onto her ass tighter, fingers digging into her skin as he helped quicken her movements. The tightness of her walls wrapped around him made him close his eyes.

John remembered the whole point of this lesson and began to take control over her movements as he gripped onto her tighter than before.

He slowed her movements, wanting her to beg for him to let her cum.

It didn't take long for her to come apart.

"John, please" she begged him to let her come to her climax and john couldn't help but enjoy the way his name fell from her lips. They were some of the sexiest noises he had ever had the pleasure to listen to, but they were drowned out by his own loud groans as his teeth skimmed the base of her neck as he left hickeys in his path.

He reached down and flicked her clit, "scream my name y/n. I want everyone to know exactly who you belong to"

She barely heard his demand over her lude moans but she was able to comply.

"Fuck john. Please. Fuck he hard" john smirked before letting out his own grunts as he allowed her to quicken her movements again and she took him in deeper than ever before.

"shit" he breathed out through clenched teeth, her moans the only response he got.

"john" her eyes practically rolled back as she quickened her pace.

John reached out to grab her hands but she enlaced them before guiding them up to her breasts which bounced before him.

As he grabbed them, y/n practically screamed in pleasure as he was quick to knead and massage them.

"mhmmmm john please harder. Fuck me harder" she neared her release as she gripped onto his hair, reminding herself that this was real and not an absurd fantasy.

Her moans heightened in pitch as she could no longer control the spasms she felt in her stomach, her nails leaving marks on his neck as he watched her climax hit.

"Ahhh John."

His name on her lips as she cum made john shoot his load into her as she fell limply against his chest, her face buried into his neck as she offered small kisses. She rolled her hips slowly, helping him ride out his own release. Her name escaping his mouth in breaths as he slowly came down from the high.

John and y/n stayed still as they both tried to controlled their heavy breathing.

Y/n pulled back as she stared lovingly at john, his eyes no longer filled with lust but instead with awe and love for the women in front of him.

She fixed his shirt and tidied his now messy hair as she still sat on his lap.

"you do realise that i am not the slightest bit interested in josh right? I only let him flirt with me so you can fuck me out of jealousy".

She kissed over the small nail marks on his neck and moved to fall back in the passenger seat.

John was still out of breath as he watched the girl pull on her trousers and shirt.

"I love you so much y/n but you play with fire." she leaned over and kissed his on the lips. "I love you too but I'm not afraid of getting burned".

John laughed deeply as he tidied his trousers up and began to drive home, unable to believe that he had a girlfriend like y/n.

The end

_______

Taglist (just ask to be added to a permanent taglist)

@gwenebear @celestiaelisia @blondieee-me

#john wick #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick imagine #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves x you #john wick oc #keanucharlesreeves #young keanu #john wick smut #john wick oneshot

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what-the--curtains · 4 years

Text

Braving the elements

(Bucky x OC and/or Bucky x reader)

Summary:

A mutant with elemental control flees her life of crime after an altercation with her boss. In hopes of bringing him down she seeks out her old friend Wanda and offers to help the Avengers. Whilst there a certain avengers catches her eye and she catches his. As a more sinister plot begins to reveal itself, you realize that your former employer is the least of your worries and that something wicked was being planned for you since the day you were born.

Warnings; Violence, Swearing, Theft

Author's note: First piece of non-academic writing I’ve done in a while so feedback is always appreciated, but be kind! I may change this to be a reader insert, but I just don’t like how (Y/n) looks in the writing. If y’all want it changed though let me know! Bucky makes his appearance in Chapter 4 so it’s a slow burn romance, but there’s gonna be fluff, angst and smut involved! Steve/Nat and Wanda/Vision are in it later as well, but I wanted to establish the main character a bit first as she’s the only one who's made up

Word Count: 2.0K

Act 1: Chapter 1: The Robbery

Songs inspiring this chapter

Ain’t no rest for the wicked – Cage the Elephant (Bank robbery)

Boss Bitch - Doja Cat (Fight with the avengers)

Monday 10 AM, N.Y.C

“This is it?” you ask, pulling your sunglasses down slightly in order to get a better view of the building standing before you.

“That’s the one.” Your getaway driver Calvin says into your ear piece, he’s a block away in the back of a white van waiting for the go ahead from the boss.

You squint as the sun hits your eyes, letting out a low whistle “Pretty fancy for a bank, you gonna tell me what I’m getting out of here?” you muse.

“That’s on a need to know basis sweetheart.” He responds flatly.

“Well sweetheart, hate to break it to ya, but I need to know!” you pause for a moment to see if you’ve managed to make him laugh “Seriously Calvin this is some of my best stuff!”

“God do you ever shut up, cameras and emergency buttons are down, you just have the guards to worry about now so get on with the job. Once you’re out make sure your face is covered. Do you have your mask with you? ”

“”You know as the person doing most of the brute work I think I deserve a little respect” you retort “Do I have my mask? Do you have your mask Calvin? God your infuriating!” you mutter, pulling out your “mandatory” earpiece and throwing it into a nearby gutter, before taking a quick glance in your purse just in case you had forgot.

Seeing the mask in its place, you pull your leather jacket over a white t-shirt and tighten your belt ensuring your shorts stay in place. Alright let’s do this you think with confidence before immediately tripping over your shoe laces and falling to the ground.

“God how embarrassing” you say slightly louder than you meant too. Pushing yourself onto one knee you tie your laces up and hop back on your feet “Alright let’s try this again.”

You walk through the sliding doors into the marbled interior of the bank, smiling as you pass by two security guards. One with a long mustache and another with a poorly done tattoo of a tiger on his bicep. You make note of the other two guards who were currently leaning up against the roman-esque columns lining the perimeter of the building. One was wearing sunglasses and the other was casually twirling a baton around.

“Hey, only four of you guys defending this whole building?” You inquire

“Ya sweetheart just the four of us, but don’t you worry we’ll keep ya safe” Tattoo replied with a smile and a slightly unnerving arm touch.

“Well thank goodness for that and god bless America!” you say sweetly grinning from ear to ear. Turning on your heel you head towards the counter ringing the bell twice before a woman in her mid-twenties appears from the back room and walks over to the counter. She’s wearing a name tag that reads Sandy.

“Hi there Sandy, how are you today?”

“I'm doing just fine thanks for asking and what can I do for you today?” She replied with a smile.

“I’m here to retrieve my belongings. Vault 176 here’s the key.” you say sliding it under the protective glass. Sandy smiles politely and walks into the backroom for a few minutes before emerging with a small box.

“Alright, I’m just going to need see some ID then your good to go ma’am”

“Well you see Sandy, I left it at home and my husband’s gonna kill me if I don’t get this back to him tonight could you do a gal a favour and just look the other way?” you plead

“I’m really sorry ma’am, but I just can’t do that.” Sandy replies sympathetically.

“Well I understand,” you say “Oh and Sandy, I’m sorry about this really I am”

“Sorry for what exactly ma’am?” she asks with a worried tone

“For this' ' you jump onto the counter and pull out a gun “Hi, yea, hello, people of the bank can I have your attention please? I just wanted to inform you all that I’m gonna be robbing this branch, but this does not mean it has to be a traumatic or unpleasant experience. I just need that box there and I don’t want anyone to get hurt, really I don’t. So if you could pretty please hand it over to me and any spare cash you have lying around this joint.”

Unfortunately, Tattoo, Mustache, Sunglasses, and Twirly were now approaching you with guns raised.

“Ma’am drop your weapon and put your hands where I can see them” demands Mustache

“C’mon sweetheart we both know you don’t know how to handle that thing.” Sunglasses says patronizingly

“Fine you got me glasses.” you pout “My little lady brain doesn’t know how to use a gun!” you exclaim before quickly throwing the gun at him, hitting him right in the head and knocking him out “ You’re supposed to throw the gun right?”

Mustache rushes towards you at full speed. Before he can reach you, you jump off the counter connecting the soles of your feet to his face knocking him down onto the floor unconscious. You land painfully on your hip feeling a bruise forming almost instantly.

The last two guards begin their approach. From the ground you kick Twirlys feet out from under him and jump to fight the baton out of his hand. Punching him in the throat you stand up and turn to knock tattoo, your least favorite of the four, right in the stomach with the baton. He doubles over in pain. Twirly tries to stand up, but you bring the top of your foot down on his neck causing him to drop, this time staying down. Bringing the same leg forward you knee tattoo in the nuts and feign a pained look as he topples over. Bending over you pick up the three guns now lying on the floor

“You know, you should really learn how to use these properly. Wouldn’t want you hurting anyone, especially yourselves.” You scold. The few people in the bank remained still and decided it was probably best to comply with you. You turn back to the counter now sweating, and Sandy hands you the box from the vault and a bag full of cash which she had filled during the beatdown.

“Thanks Sandy you’re a peach!”

Sandy looks at you pleadingly “Oh come on, we both know you ain’t gonna get fired because some lady came in and threatened you. If anything you should sue them, unsafe workplace and all” you offer sincerely with a shrug of your shoulders.

You gingerly step over the four guards lying on the floor and slip on your mask before exiting the bank.

Monday 10:25 AM Avengers Tower

A field agent runs into Tony’s office where he and Steve were working “Sir one of the downtown branches has been broken into!” he wheezes.

“And?” says Tony

“And you’re going to want to see this” He pulls up a video taken by one of the bystanders in the bank. The video depicts the scene of you beating up the four guards.

“You know who that is?” Steve asks Tony

“Never seen her before in my life, which is surprising considering how well she fights. Let’s get in for questioning. I'm a bit busy here so Steve if you wouldn’t mind.” He says turning back to his work.

“Peter, Wanda suit up, we’ve got a robbery to stop” Steve orders.

10:35 AM Downtown N.Y.C

God this mask is hot you think struggling to get the eyes hole in place as you approach the white van concealing Calvin’s whereabouts. Knocking three times he open the door and you

throw the small box from the vault up to him.

‘’What have I told you about taking out your ear piece?” he fumed “And what the hell is in that bag?” he shouts pointing to the large bag of cash you had grabbed.

“Money.” you say with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Last time I checked boss said no extra risks, he ain’t gonna be happy about this.”

“Well last time I checked he likes money” you respond causing Calvin to become even more agitated. As you turn to grab the money you see a ball of red light come hurling at you. You duck just in time.

“Shit, how the hell did the goddamn Avengers get here so fast?” Calvin shouts, you grab the money and throw it into the back of the van he extends his hand and you’re about to grab it when BAM something hits you in the back knocking you forward.

“Alright who the fuck threw a whole ass shield at me!” You yell more irritated that angry

“We gotta go c’mon Eve” Calvin pleads “Boss really ain’t gonna like this!”

“Screw that, this just got personal! Go, i’ll catch up” you promise turning and running towards the shield throwing culprit a.k.a Captain American. You kick him right in the gut having caught him slightly off-guard he doubles over. You remove your belt and wrap it around his neck pulling as hard as you can.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a superhero or something?“ you begin to ask, but before you can fish the sentence something slaps you in the back of the head pulling off your mask. You're thrown off the captains back.

“Shit!” you mumble before turning to see one of spidey kids webs still holding your mask.

You hear her before you see her “Chris?” you turn to see someone you hadn’t seen in years

“Wanda?” you blink a few times no it can’t be. Just then a truck skids up behind you and firm hands hoists you up

“We gotta go now!” Calvin says angrily, shooting suppressing fire out towards the three avengers.

“Chris!” Wanda yells again before throwing energy towards the truck. You pull the air around it and throw the energy back her way.

With Spiderkid and the captain still on your tail you decide to pull out a few of your old tricks. You pull the branch from a tree up and wrap it around the kids arm trapping him in the tree

“Um Mr. Rogers I’m down and out” he sighs.

“Two down one to go.” you focus on the captain who's now running through the street after you at superhuman speed. Lucky for you it had rained the day before on the street was full of puddles. Crouching down you turn the puddles to ice causing the captain to wipe out. Hard. Closing the doors of the van as It turns the corner you make your way back to your headquarters.

“They made me. Spider kid took my mask.” you whisper hoping Calvin doesn’t hear you

“He ain’t gonna be happy” he chastised.

“God you don’t think I already know that! At least we got the goods. He’s gonna be real happy about that!”

#bucky x oc #bucky x you #bucky x reader #buck barnes #avengers fanfiction #x men fanfiction #origin story #I SWEAR ITS A BUCKY FIC I JUST GOTTA SET UP MY CHARACTER

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hisgirlwonder · 6 years

Text

Atonement - Part Three

Length: 2.3K words Warning: A lot of this is power play with intrusive thoughts but there’s also the addition of smut in the form of sex toys/anal stuff, humiliation, some degrading pet play, sadism of sorts, voyeurism, that sort of thing~ Synopsis: With his trust broken, Michael is doing all he can to make you regret ever crossing him. Notes: Here’s the third part in the continuation of my favourite fic series I’ve written to date (I think my niche might be humiliation which probably speaks volumes about me lmao) and you can find part one and two here on my master list. Hope you enjoy!!! I should also probably point this out but I always write Y/N as consensual because we all know she secretly loves Michael and can’t resist him (even if she might come across as loathing him)

Michael’s actions towards you had caused quite a commotion in the Outpost. Since that show in front of the others, they were all scared stiffness and didn’t want to be the next in line and abided by his rules. Nobody realised that Michael wasn’t interested in punishing them even if they acted out because you were his target, his prey, his toy. He would have just snapped their necks and let that be that. But with you? No, you were different. You were his.

“What the fuck, where are they?”

Desperate hands of yours rummage through bags of clean laundry trying to find your own. You specifically remember last night putting them on a wash cycle and one of the other girls said she’d take care of the rest which by your calculations means they should be there. But they’re not and you’re stressing out. You didn’t need more punishment on top of what you were already being given.

Certain you’ve got another outfit hanging up in your wardrobe, you run back to your room as fast as you can. The adrenaline pumping through your veins turned you into a fumbling mess and made trying to unlock the door difficult, albeit not impossible, and you get there eventually. Once inside you rush over to your closet and fling open its doors.

Michael surely had better things to do than take my clothes, didn’t he?

Apparently, you might have been wrong. The cupboard in front of you is bare, stripped of your belongings. You mutter a fuck under bated breath, heart pounding. Knowing you don’t have much time, you quickly move onto your drawers and yank them open whilst praying you’re still in possession of something, anything, to wear to his office – your search falls flat. You haven’t even got a pair of socks.

There’s a knock at the door. It was if your thoughts were so loud that the Devil himself answered you because you open the door and who was it? Michael.

“Good morning, little grey. Did you get my message? I hope you enjoyed it.”

His tone was all too self-righteous and cocky for this early in the morning.

You’re staring at him in confusion, saying nothing.

I didn’t get a…

It clicks. He took all of your clothes to send you a message.

He continues, “I just love that look upon your face right now. It’s like you’re becoming aware what I can do to make you feel your own shame. There are a few things planned so don’t take too long to get ready. Make sure you shower first,” Michael says, rubbing it in with a wink. You wanted to slap the smug off his own.

A concerned Ms. Mead clears her throat, breaking the silence in the room.

“Michael, don’t you think you’re being just a little harsh on that poor girl.”

You look up from your screen to see Mead staring down at you, sadness in her eyes. She hated seeing you like this – she missed the old Michael, the one that had become buried deep under a cloud of jealousy. Mead could read you like a book and knew from the way you were reacting and the things she’d observed that you really did care for Y/N but you didn’t know how to show it.

“Thank you for the concern. I really do appreciate it but after she went behind my back and metaphorically shat all over me then she’s going to get every last bit of my harshness. How dare she let him-” you pause, smacking your clenched fist down in exasperation.

Miriam leans in on the edge of the desk, sight focused on you and trying to read your expression since you had a guard up. You’re refusing to look at her and instead your vision veers off to the side with flared nostrils and a mouth scrunched up in disapproval, matching the current mood.

“Michael, please, look at me.” Mead begs, moving around to be in your line of sight but you move your head again, still refusing to look at her, “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know? You don’t need to let your feelings get the better of you. You’re not a monster, Michael.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Michael. You’re not a monster, Michael.” You mimic, deflecting the obvious truth she was speaking. You did feel something for her but the news of betrayal hurled you back into the past when you were abandoned by your own flesh and blood.

“Wow, okay. I see I’m getting nowhere with you. I’m going to go and attend to other things but you know where I am if you decide you actually want to act your age and not like a defiant, spoilt child.” Mead sighs heavily then walks out of the room. You notice she’s left the door ajar as you hear her speaking in a surprised tone, saying, “Oh, hello, Y/N. Michael’s in there.”

“Uh, sir, hello,” your words were sheepish, uncertain. He doesn’t acknowledge your greeting nor does he do anything besides type away on his laptop. You’re about to say something else when he bluntly tells you to come to him. You comply with the instructions and tiptoe over to him, standing to the right of his desk.

The tapping of fingers on the keyboard ceases once he feels your presence near. He closes his laptop, pushes himself off the seat, and walks around you in circles with eyes fixated on your exposed skin.

Those icy blues are taking in the sight of the damage inflicted on your body. A single finger lightly skims over the parts that were tinged in shades of blue and violet from where he’d dug in too hard. With cold yet curious tone, he asks, “Do these hurt?”

The answer to that question is simple – of course they hurt. You were in agony trying to fall asleep last night because of that. If he had asked you, however, if anything had hurt more then that was an entirely different story. You’d say yes because it didn’t just hurt, it tormented you to be around him and to almost suffocate on the anguish filling the room that he was experiencing, all because of you. You can’t recall him ever using the word “hate” but you wouldn’t be surprised if that was how he felt about you nowadays.

You pull together a sentence but your words are spoken too timidly for him to hear. He wraps his hand around the bruised skin, gripping where the marks were present, and squeezes as he’s demanding for you to speak up. Tears pool in your eyes and you’re wincing in pain, yelling out that they do. Gasping under the pressure he’s putting on your contusions.

Michael begins to laugh to himself for some reason and drops the clasp he has around your bruised limb. Your eyes, slightly narrowed, on him and you’re rubbing at the soreness. He sits back down on his chair and as he’s pulling in his chair, he mocks you, “I already know what you’re going to do before you do, little grey. You think you get the privileges of a normal human being? Don’t be silly. We both know where you belong.” His head tilts in the direction of the floor, “Down you go, on your hands and knees.”

You’re amazed at how well Michael pulls off the cold, clinical act but you fail to realise that this is what he’s taught himself throughout his life – through the hurt, the abandonment, the pain, the loss, the best and only thing he can do is to build the fortress inside him higher, and stronger; even if this means losing himself even deeper each time he rebuilds it. He’s done it so many times you could almost call him a master in carpentry.

With you following his commands, you’re resting on your bent knees and flat palms. Michael squats down for a minute, eyes perusing over your positioning. You part lips to speak but Michael snatches your face up in one hand and he snaps, “Does the little bitch wish to speak? Too bad she can only bark.”

His emphases on the word bark showed how serious he was, he throws you from his hand and stands up, hovering above like a figure of authority. “You want to speak? So do it, and you get points if you make it extra convincing.”

You put two and two together and come back with something that makes a whole lot of sense. He didn’t want you to speak, he wanted you to bark like a dog because his aim was to make you feel less than human. So, naturally, you don’t want to rock the boat and you show him how convincing you can be.

“Very good. I think you’ve earned the right to speak for a little bit.”

“Thank you, sir. What’s the point in all of this?”

“To teach you obedience, silly. You clearly lack it and all dogs need training sometimes. Oh, and before I forget, I have something for you... a gift, if you please.” Michaels words were mostly calm but there was a touch of condescension thrown in there for good measure. “Before you feel the need to waste any extra oxygen in this room by asking another trivial question, just know it’s something I’m sure you will love, like the slut you are.”

You’re trying to swallow down your nerves but it’s as if you’re a cat with a furball caught in its throat, wanting to cough them back up.

Michael can’t do anything worse to you than he already has.

You’ve been staring at the floor and psyching yourself up to bundle your nerves and shove them deep down inside you that you didn’t notice Michael had disappeared until he came back. You look up and there he is, holding up a red bag. “Little grey, get up off the floor and come and get this,” he swings the bag in front of you by the handles, like an owner waving a toy in front of their pet.

Dying to speak, you bite your tongue for fear of backlash. Michael already senses it in you and pipes up with, “I know, I know. This must be confusing, right? I’m punishing you and then I’m giving you gifts,” Michael grabs his chin in his free hand, pursing his lips before he continues, “I guess you’ll just have to sit on the edge of your seat to see what I have planned next, huh?”

You stick out your hand to grab the bag from him, looking at him in the eyes but you can’t work out what’s going through his mind. Part of you wonders if this is some kind of joke and then the other part wonders if he’s trying to win you over just to gain more control.

Your teeth chew at your bottom lip and you pluck up the courage to dive in, feeling what seems to be a bottle and something fluffy. You pull both out and place them on the table; a butt plug with a tail and a bottle of lube. “I don’t understand. Why these?”

“I just thought I’d get you something to help with your canine transformation since apparently you do quite like being a bitch.” His hands grab for the bottle, shaking it around before holding it out to you, “See? I’m not entirely cruel.”

He places the bottle back down on his desk, continuing to explain his plan, “You’re going to wear this, if not for me then for your own self, because I can promise you things will be worse if you don’t.”

Your eyes hit the plug – it wasn’t like you hadn’t had anything up there before and it wasn’t overly huge so you figured you could do it.

“Do I make myself clear?”

You nod your head.

“Good. Now show me just how clear I’ve made myself.”

Michael points at the toy, “I want you to put a foot up on the chair so I can watch you stick that,” then he points at your ass, “In there. I also want you to look at me so I can feel every second of it. Got it?” He tongues his front teeth in some kind of sick enjoyment.

You bite back the nerves and nod your head again to show your understanding. Despite your submissive streak, you were being crushed slowly and painfully because this wasn’t how you wanted anything sexual with him to go.

With one foot propped up on the chair, you pick both the bottle and toy up, hands trembling slightly, and squirt fake slick on to the plug before rubbing it in and bringing it to your ass. The flesh of your behind hitting Michael’s gaze.

“No. Turn your face around and look at me when you do it. I want to see you.”

Was this just a punishment or his own fetish?

You turn, facing Michael, trying your best to be brave but you knew he’d be able to see the pain. It was pain because over and over again thoughts like you’ve done this to him, he’s hurting because of you, you worthless piece of shit, Michael is right to teach you like this ran through your mind.

For the first time in who knows how long his eyes light up as he’s staring at you pressing the tip of the foreign object into your hole, gasping slightly as it easily slides in. He’s tried to remain calm and composed this whole time but even he can’t hide his own enjoyment, whether it be from the power or from him fill your ass with something, and it’s showing. He’s biting down on his fingers at his own titillation over your docility.

“Wow, you didn’t even cry out in pain, almost as if it’s not your first time filling that ass of yours with something.”

His eyes are stuck on you, particularly on your ass, as his feet lead him to be behind you. His hands pull at your hair back his direction, you too were growing aroused but trying to hide it, “You really are a slut. Shall we see how much you can take?”

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sammythankyou @sevenwondr @langdonsdemon @creamy-pasta-boi

Also wanted to add in you darlings since you loved the first two parts!! @icylangdon @langdonsrapture @cocosfern

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glare-gryphon · 8 years

Note

8 or 18 for the multipurpose prompts?

@the-obi-wan-for-you

You didn’t leave me a pairing, but I figured Obikin was a safe bet ;)

I’ve seen lots of Mafia Obikin going around of late, and I wanted to try my hand at it. I’d actually love to write more for this AU, if you all would like to read it. It was a lot of fun!

Rating: T

Prompt: “Unearthed Bones”

Relationships: Pre-Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker

Additional Tags: Organized Crime AU, mentions of drug use/abuse, first meeting

~2250 Words

There are days when Ben honestly wonders if Ahsoka thinks him stupid.

On these days, when the flow of people in and out of the library is slower than usual, he watches from the front desk as a stream of twitchy men and women with sallow, sunken skin meander through the aisles with a nonchalance that is hardly convincing. They always end up in the same aisle, in the end, plucking the same book from the shelf. It an old law tome, battered and outdated; hardly the sort of thing the average man off the street would be interested in when they have the rest of Tatooine’s library at their disposal. In fact, the only reason Ben hasn’t been told to take the book off the shelves is because of its high rate of usage. These people carry it back up to the front desk without delay, reluctantly handing it to Ben, who scans their respective library card before the volume is all but snatched from his grip. When they stumble back out the front door, they don’t go far. Often he watches them stop just outside, rustling though the pages before stuffing something in their pockets and dropping the book back in the return slot with a soft thunk. Ahsoka, ever diligent, returns the book to its place on the shelf, and seems to genuinely think Ben doesn’t notice when she slips something between the pages on her way there.

Ben has been working at the Tatooine Library for a little under a year. His assistant, a girl by the name of Ahsoka Tano, had come with the position. Tano is in her mid-teens, with dark skin and bleached, white hair. She is, as far as assistants go, actually fairly competent. She arrives on time, does her work efficiently, and rarely ever calls out. All things considered, Ben would take a perfect assistant running drugs through his library over an incompetent assistant any day. Stars knows he has made more than his fair share of questionable decisions in his life; it’s the reason he’s been so patient with the steady stream of junkies that stumble through their doors on a daily basis. Who is he to judge?

Though he does wonder how stupid someone else had to be to not notice what, exactly, is going on here. It’d been fairly obvious to him from day one.

It comes to a head, however, when one of Ahsoka’s customers arrives still riding his previous high. He’s wild-eyed and twitchier than usual, drawing the attention of the library’s more respectable patrons as he stumbles through the aisles. Ben watches as they mutter to themselves, women steering their children out of the way, and regretfully realizes that he’s going to have to step in before someone makes a rash decision. He’s come to like his predicable little job in this predictable little town; it’s been a pleasant change of pace from… well… the rest of his life.

So he forces himself out from behind the desk. Ahsoka tries to catch his attention, attempting to derail his plan of approaching the man, but Ben brushes her off. Instead, he weaves his way through the library’s aisles, making his way over to where he knows the desired book to be. The man is just pulling it off the shelf when he arrives, and turns to find Ben standing just behind him when he makes to head back to the front of the library.

“C-can I help you, Mr. Lars?” he stutters, making a pathetic attempt to hid just how alarmed he is. Ben rarely interacts with Ahsoka’s clientele beyond the minimum, and to see him out from behind the desk has thrown the man distinctly off his game. Not that he was on his game today in the first place.

“You’re making a scene,” Ben says, extending a hand. “Give me the book.” When the man hesitates, obviously considering refusing to comply, he adds, “Give me the book and get out of my library before I get the police involved.”

The man freezes, his twitchiness gone in the face of terror. He looks past Ben, searching for something, and he chances a glance over his shoulder to see what. Ahsoka is standing behind Ben’s desk, in clear line of sight to the whole situation, looking absolutely horrified by the sudden turn of events. She doesn’t appear to be prepared to step in, though, prompting the man to shove the book into Ben’s chest and flee the building with appropriate haste. Ben follows him as far as the door, to make sure he gets there, before returning to the staff office Ahsoka has disappeared to in the meantime.

He catches her just before she slips out the back door, bag over her shoulder and fear written across her face. Ben doesn’t look like much of a threat, he dresses to appear as least intimidating as possible, but the strength of his grip around her bicep is enough to deter her from struggling. While he would never actually hurt her, he’d rather just get this confrontation over with than fight her about the matter for the next half-hour.

“Give me the bag, Ahsoka,” he demands, and she does, shaking like a leaf while she watches him rifle through the pockets. Inside is exactly what he expects to find: her lunch, a couple school books, and a little over a dozen small baggies of fine, white powder. Ben releases a sharp breath through his nose, stuffing the book he took from the junkie into the sack before zipping it back up. “You can tell your employer,” he growls, “that if he’d like his merchandise back, he can come get it from me in person. We obviously have a few things to discuss.”

Tano nods, wide-eyed, and finally escapes out into the alley. Ben doesn’t stop her this time, taking the bag with him when he returns to his desk. He scrubs at his beard, still trying to adjust to the feeling of facial hair after so long clean-shaven, and has a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

Considering the events of that afternoon, he’s not entirely surprised to find a sleek, black town car waiting in the alley when he’s done locking up for the night. A young woman, dressed in a neat, if slightly casual suit and a typical driver’s cap, stands by the open door of the backseat.

“If you would, Mr. Lars,” she says, motioning for him to get in. Ben goes without complaint, noting the bulge of twin holsters from beneath her coat. Judging by the cut of her suit, they aren’t meant to be ignored.

The door slams shut behind him as soon as he climbs in, the woman making her way to the driver’s side. It gives Ben time to take in his surroundings: rich leather seats, barely worn from use; soft music playing through the stereo; the smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. It’s not a completely foreign environment, but it’s definitely not where he thought he’d end his day when he walked into work that morning.

“Where to, boss?” the driver asks when he settles into her own seat, glancing in the rearview mirror and drawing Ben’s attention to the other man in the backseat.

Well, calling the other passenger a man may be a stretch of the definition. An adult, yes, but the person Ben finds himself face to face with would better bear the title boy than man. Ahsoka’s employer lounges on the other side of the car, his long, thin frame accentuated by the cut of an expensive, grey suit. Blue eyes watch Ben from a youthful face, marred only by a single scar across the boy’s right eye. His blonde hair is cut short, standing up and ruffled in a way that makes him appear effortlessly beautiful.

“Just start driving, Aphra. I don’t know how long this meeting will take.”

Aphra pulls the car out of the alley and out onto the main road, prompting the man’s attention to return to Ben. He scrutinizes the older man for a moment before asking, “I’m told you have something that belongs to me?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t involve the police,” Ben replies, sliding Ahsoka’s pack off his shoulder and setting it down on the seat between them. The other man unzips the pack, briefly rifling through it to ascertain that his product is present and accounted for before zipping it back up again.

“And why didn’t you?” the other man asks. “Anyone else would have.”

“I’m not a snitch.” He snorts.

“Would the Martials staking out your place agree with that statement?”Ben feels himself stiffen, fear dumping adrenaline into his bloodstream despite the fact that he’s trained to remain cool under pressure. That skillset’s languished in disuse since his move to Tatooine, and he watches a smug, victorious smile crawl its way across the younger man’s face.

“Ben Lars… You know, when Ahsoka called me and told me that you’d finally decided to step in on my operation, I thought we might have a problem.” He drawls, “My boys did some looking into you today, though. New in town, comparatively speaking. No family, no friends, not a lot to your name… Do you know about Coruscant’s Jedi Order, Ben?”

“They’re an organized crime syndicate, if I recall correctly. Why?”

The other man nods, almost to himself. “You see, Ben, one of the Order’s top players went missing about a year ago. Obi-Wan Kenobi, his name was. A Knight, on the fast track to a Council seat if the rumors are to be believed. Some people think he made run for it; others think he’s dead. But do you know what I think?”

Ben forces himself to swallow past the lump in his throat. “What?” he rasps.

“I think that tattoo on your shoulder—the one Ahsoka says you’re always trying to hide—is the mark of a Jedi Knight. Isn’t that right, Obi-Wan?”

There is a brief moment when Ben tenses, considering lunging across the backseat of the car and strangling the life out of this boy. That moment is abruptly ended when he finds himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Now, let’s not do anything hasty,” the younger man chides, gesturing with his weapon for Ben to settle back into his seat.

“Well, it seems there’s no point in trying to hide it; you obviously know who I am,” he growls. “Which raises the question, who are you?”

“You can call me Vader.”

The name rings distant bells, but he can’t quite place anything beyond an affiliation. “Sith Empire, then?”

“That’s the one,” Vader purrs.

“What are the Sith doing in Tatooine? Last I’d heard, Sidious was trying to make a move for Naboo, not this backwater town.”

“Naboo went… poorly. But that happened after you disappeared. Sidious sent me here to try and recoup some losses before we move forward. Rebuild, reimagine. Prove myself, as it were.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Ben asks. “What do you want?”

Vader’s brows jump. “What makes you think I want anything from you?”

“If you didn’t, you would have either shot me or sent me on my way already.”

“So you are clever. And here I was thinking I might have overestimated you.”

Ben chuckles. “I’ve played this game long enough to know the rules, Vader. Out with it.”

The younger man considers him a moment more before announcing, “I’d like you to work with me.” He leans in, conspiratorial, and Ben finds himself leaning in as well despite the way the barrel of Vader’s gun presses into his ribcage when he does. Irrationally, he trusts Vader not to shoot him in this moment. “My people and I are being called back to Coruscant in a few weeks. Sidious thinks we’re ready to play in the big leagues.”

“I thought this sojourn to nowhere was to prove yourself. If the Master thinks you’re ready, what do you need me for?”

“An important part of leading is having the right followers. You were the best, Obi-Wan. The stories I’ve heard? Incredible. If we worked together, we’d be unstoppable. Think about it. No more Tatooine, no more court dates, no more Marshals breathing down your neck. It only took my guys a couple of hours to figure out who you really are; what would happen if the Order found out you’d turned rat? I can set you up with something so much better,” Vader says, conviction in his eyes. “I can protect you, and in no time we’ll be running those streets.”

If you’d asked Ben that morning if he’d like to get back in the game, the answer would have been a resounding no. The Ben of that morning had believed himself at peace with his boring little life in Tatooine. Now that Vader’s offer is on the table, however, he practically finds himself drooling. “Why should I trust you?” He asks, a last attempt at dissuading himself from the yes that’s trying to claw its way out.

“We’ve all got skeletons, Obi-Wan,” Vader says. “I unearthed yours, and you’re still living.” He extends his free hand across the seat: an offering of salvation. “What say next time, we bury them better. Together.”

He’s enjoyed his peace in Tatooine, yes, but a part of him is always going to be a Jedi Knight. A part of him is always going to live for the thrill.

Against his better judgement, Ben takes his hand.

#gryph fics #obikin #obi wan kenobi/anakin skywalker #organized crime au

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ars-simia-animus · 5 years

Text

What I Can Afford is Yours

Chapter 7: “Some Shun the Sunshine”

Summary:

"Mr. Jameson was given his chance to meet Mrs. Virginia Stark on the Sunday evening before Christmas, after he had returned from taking Peter to the jailhouse."

Pepper and Tony learn that Peter has been detained at the jailhouse, convicted by Jameson of theft. In the jail, Peter is defenseless, and must draw on his own inner strength to protect himself.

Trigger warnings for this chapter: sexual harassment of a minor, racism and racial slurs, mild violence and mention of blood

Mr. Jameson was given his chance to meet Mrs. Virginia Stark on the Sunday evening before Christmas, after he had returned from taking Peter to the jailhouse.

He was placing the newly priced, finished ceramics on tall display stands when he heard a light but purposeful knock on the shop door. Annoyed, he tried to gesture that the shop was closed. However, the figure tapped again and he saw that it was a lady, though she was as tall as he, and very well-dressed, so he hurried over. “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but my humble shop is closed on the Lord’s day.”

“Yes, I’m sorry to interrupt your day off, Mr. Jameson, but I would not be able to discuss business with you tomorrow.” Pepper said, stepping into the doorway, forcing Mr. Jameson to make room for her to enter. “You see, we have rather momentous plans for tomorrow. I hope this will not be an awful inconvenience.”

Mr. Jameson stared at the woman, taken completely off his guard. He stammered as he tried to think of what to say. “No inconvenience,” he finally muttered.

“Good.” Pepper said, fully directing the conversation. She held a leather portfolio in the crook of her arm. Her manner was one of professional flair. Jameson was visibly intimidated by her presence and sudden proclamation. “I am Virginia Stark. I’ve come to discuss Peter Parker’s apprenticeship with you.”

Peter was in a time-deprived state of shock. He knew he’d been locked up with the other pre-trial criminals around three o’clock that afternoon; but, no distinction could be made between day and night. The basement jail had no access to natural light and the guards didn’t comment on the hour. Added to this was a persistent haze; he felt suspended somehow as though he might fall into an enchanted sleep. Peter was completely disoriented by the time a guard brought a loaf of bread that resembled fruitcake, dense and apparently choked full of ingredients.

The men crowded the bars and took a slice of it for supper— all except Peter, who couldn’t feel his hunger, buried as it was under his distress, and Westcott, who stood when the guard brought the tray to the bars, but stayed where he was. Davis had given him a very pointed look when he moved away from the back wall to get his own slice.

“Aren’t ya gonna eat?” Rocky prodded Peter through the bars. He warned: “You’re not dead yet, boyo. Ya need food.”

Peter complied blearily; he was the last besides Westcott to walk over. The slice of loaf was dry and Peter saw the starchy strings of former vegetables in it. It smelled like beef pot roast, but there was a sickeningly sweet aroma of some sort of fruit to it as well. It seemed that an entire meal had been ground up and baked into a brick.

Nevertheless, he politely said to the guard, “Thank you, sir,” and the guard stared at him before sneering. “Don’t be a wisenheimer, kid.” He moved on to Rocky’s cell with the tray. Peter put the piece of loaf in his pocket without another coherent thought. His ears were aching again.

Tony strode through the alley to the workshop door as gaily as he would during the daytime. He went to turn the knob but it did not give. “Hmm.” He clucked. After all, it was nighttime, and the kid probably had settled in for the evening. There was the glow of a light somewhere within, so Tony rapped on the door. Admittedly, he was disappointed he couldn’t burst in, lackadaisical as usual, but so it goes.

Peter didn’t answer, however. Tony bobbed up and down on his heels then knocked again. But, no one answered. No throwing open of the door, no excited greeting of “Mr. Stark!”, no rambling apology while the door was unbarred and unlocked. Slightly peeved and a little concerned, Tony headed for the shop entrance. Change of plans.

An hour after the “nutraloaf” was served, Peter heard the tumblers of the cell door’s lock. “Davis!” The guard called. “Come on, then!”

No change passed over Aaron Davis’s face as he walked, slightly swaying, from the back cell wall. He did pause, however, as he passed Peter and gazed at him for a moment. Peter might have interpreted a look of apology.

Westcott watched him go with great interest. Peter saw him look at the other criminals in the cell as if measuring something in them. But, he stayed where Davis had put him.

The guard commented to Davis as he escorted him up the stairs. “You must have friends in high places.” Then they were both gone and door to the basement jail closed.

“Regrettably, the boy’s not here tonight.” Mr. Jameson said. He removed a partially smoked cigar from his vest pocket and bit it. Seeing her nose curl, he decided against lighting it.

“Where is Peter?” Pepper asked, voice tight.

“Well, ma’am,” Jameson said gruffly. “I was actually on my way to fetch him… in the morning, that is.”

“From where?” Pepper asked with more emphasis.

Jameson chewed on his cigar, using it as a tool to ground himself. “Well, I’m pained to be the one to have to tell you this, but, you see, the boy, uh, Peter, stole an item from the shop yesterday.”

Pepper straightened. “ Where is Peter, Mr. Jameson. This is the third time I am asking you.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that he confessed to the crime and I had to arrange for him to spend the night in the precinct jailhouse— to deter, eh, further, you know, transgressions .” Mr. Jameson crossed his arms firmly.

Pepper’s eyebrows bounced though her face remained resolutely drawn.

“So,” he continued, invoking his sense of self-righteousness, the base stone of his confidence, “you understand that as the boy’s master and the injured party, I had to address the situation .”

Inhaling through her nose, Pepper readjusted her shoulders. “Yes, I understand your position on things very well, Mr. Jameson.”

Tony entered the shop door then and crossed behind Pepper to the little hallway door. “Back door was locked,” he explained offhandedly. Pepper remained still and hardly took notice.

Jameson sputtered as Tony disappeared, “Now hold on—!”

Pepper interrupted. “Excuse my husband,” she said with no trace of true apology. “You said you arranged that he stay the night. Has he spoken to a judge?”

“Not as of yet, ma’am. The holiday—”

“What did he confess to take?”

“Well, his contract clearly outlines—”

“I’m familiar with his contract,” Pepper said. Jameson gaped, wondering where she could have obtained a copy. He eyed the portfolio in her arms, having more of an idea of its contents. “I’ve read it thoroughly. So it was an item meant to be sold? How did you discover it was not in its right place?”

Tony returned from the hallway door and stormed toward Jameson. The latter actually took a step back at the sight of the charge. Tony was ready to boom out a question, but Pepper intercepted him with an answer. “He’s not here, Tony. Mr. Jameson was just offering his explanation as to why.”

“Love to hear it.” Tony seethed.

Westcott began moving around the cell. One moment he was standing next to a group of men on the opposite wall. The next he was in the center of the cell, only his ashen shock of hair visible in a different huddle of criminals. Every time he moved, Peter’s breath trembled in his rib cage.

“I see you, vermin.” Rocky snarled at him. Peter wished that Rocky was in the cell with him or that they were both in a separate cell from Westcott. The guard had returned, but he had already shown that he would not prevent whatever assault Westcott had in mind.

Peter kept a vigil on the man. His best hope was to be strategic about their distance and to put as many obstacles between them as possible. He felt just like a feeder cricket in a lizard’s tank.

Another man from Rocky’s cell had joined them at the wall. He was laidback and maybe also hungover. He murmured close to Peter’s ear. “Looks like you might need a magic trick.”

Peter dared to take his eyes off Westcott and looked questioningly at the man. Then he noticed the laidback man had removed a deck of cards from his pocket. “Alakazam,” he whispered and slid off the top quarter of loose playing cards to reveal that the bottom three quarters had been glued together. Not only that, but the center of the cards had been cut out of the bottom three quarters and the entire deck converted into a makeshift box. Inside was a short sodbuster knife.

“Where is the kid?” Tony pressed.

“Somewhere I don’t believe he wants you to see him.” Pepper said and her brow gave a compassionate lift.

“What did you do to him?” Tony demanded, eyes trained on Jameson dangerously. He appeared fully in the grip of anxious rage now. “His things are all thrown across the floor. If you hurt him, I--”

“Save yourself the embarrassment, Stark,” Jameson retorted. “The little sheeny stole from me !”

Pepper glared at him. “That answers how you discovered the missing item then?”

Jameson bristled. “He confessed! Do I have to spell it out for you? He confessed— and only after company property was discovered in his possession. I had a right to search, by the way, in my own home. If I didn’t, who knows how many belongings of mine he could be hiding?”

“It never left the property, then?” Pepper asked. Her poise was nearly poetically in conjunction with Jameson’s raving. “I’m very unclear, Mr. Jameson, why you felt the need to take a child to jail over such a petty offense as 'intent to steal.'”

Tony fumed. The constricting of his chest caused him to go a little weak. “I’m going to get him.” He declared as he stalked toward the door.

Pepper called to him softly. “Wait, Tony. I believe Mr. Jameson still has a role to play in the matter. He brought the charges; but, he will go, now, to the courthouse to drop them.”

“Now wait just a minute.” Jameson demanded. “Parker is my apprentice. He confessed to stealing and I am in my rights to discipline him for his actions.”

At this Tony whirled on him. He took two fistfuls of Jameson’s vest. “And would he feel the need if you treated him well?”

“I upheld my end; that ungrateful—!”

“It will be difficult to complete that sentence with a broken jaw!”

Pepper calmly walked to them and swept back her husband’s hands, saying, “I already need to speak to the police. It’ll go over better if I don't also need to defend you .” Then, she went to the door and called, “Friday, I need you a moment.”

Tony’s respect for Pepper was the only buffer between him and Jameson. The men stared each other down, nostrils flared. Friday was standing with them in moment and Jameson started at her silent appearance. “What is this? Am I being overrun?” He shrieked.

Ignoring him, Pepper gave her instructions to Friday. “Try to find a messenger and send word to May Parker that Peter will be home tonight instead of tomorrow as planned. If you can’t find one so late, we’ll just have to surprise her, I suppose. Also ask Harley to begin preparing Peter’s belongings to be moved.”

Friday left and Jameson complained loudly. “You barge in here, ready to make a villain of me, but what’s your game? You think I haven’t noticed Stark Industries buying up stocks of my own company? Now you steal my employee from under my nose?”

“You have a strange concept of ownership,” Tony said with derision. “Peter can’t be stolen. He’s not a pot. As for his employment,” Tony said and stretched, “well, it seems the little fool’s gotten himself out of that on his own. Am I understanding the terms of the contract correctly, my love?”

Pepper nodded, watching Jameson’s stricken face. “According to the contract, Peter did not follow the requirements of his apprenticeship and it is null and void.”

“So, he’s not your employee anymore.” Tony said. “It’s too bad that you’ve driven him away; he’s not likely to ever work for you again.”

“All the more a shame, I had a much more agreeable proposal prepared to discuss with you tonight, Mr. Jameson. But, considering these developments, I will have to rethink my offer.”

Tony turned up his chin with a humor that made Jameson’s stomach turn cold. “I don’t know, Pepper, my dear, I’m liking this angle of the deal better every minute.”

“Kid, don’t take that.” Rocky said with exasperation. Then he slapped the other prisoner’s arm. “Lang, are you nuts ?”

The other man, Lang, shrugged innocently. “I’m trying to help.”

“Does the kid look like he’s ever been in a knife fight?”

“How were you going to protect him? Hope that ape comes within a foot of the bars so you can grab him with your tiny arms?”

“Ya want to repeat that?”

“I’m just saying, he’s going to have to protect himself and a knife never hurt…”

“You idiot .”

Peter scanned the cell for Westcott. He hissed at the two men on the other side of the bars. They were becoming too loud. “Sirs…”

“If you don’t know how to use a knife, it only ends up being used on you.” Rocky spoke in an exaggerated, professorly tone. “Criminey.”

“I don’t want it,” Peter said. He glanced at them and back into the dim cell with its groups of milling prisoners. He’d lost track of his predator. “My uncle… I, I don’t want to… stab anybody.”

Then he glimpsed Westcott, nearer than ever since Davis left, but not advancing.

Lang mumbled: “Has the moral high ground done you any favors recently, kid?”

Peter didn’t answer. He could see himself trembling and tried to quit. Westcott looked at him disdainfully, then, as if a shadow passed over him, the expression morphed and he seemed penitent.

“Look here, bubchen,” he said, “I’ve always been ratty at making friends. Can’t we start over?”

“Don’t buy into that, kid.” Rocky muttered grimly.

Westcott persisted, advancing a step. “I’m so very sorry for upsetting you.”

Peter shuddered. He just wanted this to end. “I accept your apology; now, leave me alone and go back where you were.”

“You heard him, Skippy.” Rocky growled and reared up, but Westcott wasn’t deterred.

He cocked his head at Peter. “ You know, you weren’t very nice to me, either.” Another step. “Don’t you think you should offer to make it up to me?”

“Westcott.” The guard’s voice came threateningly. “Leave the Jewboy alone.” But then he added to Peter, locking an eye on him: “See what trouble you could have saved yourself,” he drawled, “if you had kept your dirty hands where they belonged?”

Westcott was almost close enough now for his large waist to bump against Peter. Peter felt suffocated. Rocky was snarling at Westcott, even batting his arms through the bars, but he couldn’t reach. Lang had gone to their cell entrance and was appealing to the guard.

A strike of fear finally woke Peter from the place in his mind where he’d been hiding. The place he’d gone to wait until it was over. He stuffed his hand into his pocket and crumbled the dry nutraloaf into a fine powder. Westcott leaned over him.

“I didn’t get any supper because of you—“

Peter sprung and rubbed the crumbs in Westcott’s eyes. When the large man doubled, he cracked the bridge of his nose one hard shot with his elbow. Westcott jolted away with a howl of pain. Peter heard the cell door rattling; deliriously, he thought it was Westcott’s nose, jangling on his face.

A cold sweat broke over Peter. The guard was crying for everyone to get back, though the prisoners only crowded more crazily, pushing toward Westcott’s lumped form. The billy club banged on the door.

Peter reeled and fell against the iron bars. He heard Rocky and Lang talking behind him, but he couldn’t make sense of what they said. Finally the prisoners cleared and the guard entered. However, he didn’t approach Westcott but clamped a hand on Peter’s shoulder and pulled him out of the cell.

Before another word was spoken, the door at the top of the stairs opened. “I need Parker brought up.” A voice called down. “Someone’s come to collect him.” Peter heard the words through swimming ears. Faces began to appear in his mind as the guard huffed and hauled him up the stairs two steps at a time.

“Good riddance,” the guard grumbled.

The adrenaline hammering inside him died when Peter saw who was there to collect him. He didn’t understand until he saw Mr. Jameson standing in the foyer of the jailhouse that he’d been wishing Tony was there. There to take him home. Peter felt overwhelmed by sorrow; the sickness of fear returned.

Mr. Jameson sniffed almost grandly and proclaimed. “Well, Parker, I can see that the law has taught you your lesson and I doubt you’ll soon scorn my generosity again.” He took Peter’s shoulders and steered him from the foyer, calling thanks to the officers. As he left, Peter thought he could hear yelling somewhere behind them— it sounded like Pepper, but his head was too clouded and he scoffed at himself for such a wild hope.

Peter had no words for Mr. Jameson, who prattled in front of him, taking large strides in the snow. “Oh, Parker... I’m partly to blame for how things turned out,” he said. “I should have been stricter with you.” The snow crunched under his boots. “You’re a good boy at heart and I want to know that I forgive you.” Crunch, crunch.

Peter’s breath raced. Was the adrenaline resurrecting or the sickness worsening? He heard a great crack of ice under toe— his brain shot the sensation of Westcott’s nose breaking against his elbow back into his arm. He fell, retching, to the ground.

“Good Lord, boy! Pull yourself together.” Jameson jerked away, repulsed.

“You…” He panted. He spit bile from his mouth and continued. “You only... came back for me because I’m valuable to you.”

“What was that?” Jameson asked. He was stunned.

Peter turned up his face toward his master. “I work the kiln. I create the pieces that sell. I make you money." His nose prickled and he gathered a breath. "I’m sorry for what I did; but, I’m less sorry to you than I am to myself-- or my Aunt May-- or my good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Stark-- for not keeping true to my integrity.”

Jameson replied in a tight tone. “That so?”

Peter stood. “You say I scorned your generosity, but that’s not true. I betrayed your trust, I broke your rules, but you never gave me any generosity to scorn!” He was yelling now and could already feel the sucking, empty pain of sobs deep in his gut. “You haven’t been generous. You haven’t even been fair!”

For a split second he wondered why Jameson didn’t rebuke him or argue or even strike him. Then he felt a hand on lay comfortingly on his back. Instead of flinching at the sudden touch, Peter melted into it. He knew immediately who was there. Peace moved through his body like warm water into cold, and he heard, “Couldn’t have said it better, Pete. I’ll take it from here, J.J.”

Peter looked up at Tony.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said softly, “I thought I might see you home, if that suits you.”

He let himself fall against Tony’s coat like a sigh and nodded. Peter didn’t remember Jameson anymore, almost as though he’d been dispelled by the relief that washed away any of his other cares. Tony walked him to the carriage.

“How are you doing, Hap?” Tony asked his valet as Peter climbed onto the running board.

“Cold, sir.” Happy grouched. “If you’re asking.”

“One more stop,” Tony said. “Then, all the hot butter rum you can drink. How’s that?”

Tony lifted himself into the carriage and sat securely next to Peter. The carriage pitched forward as Happy urged the horses to take them to May's little house in Queens, to Peter's home. Peter felt Tony’s weight against his side and he stifled a whimper. He felt the jolt as Tony chafed his hands together. The sensation of shaking didn’t cease after Tony lowered his hands and Peter realized it was himself who was quavering, but he couldn’t stop it.

Noticing Peter trembling, Tony put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him tenderly closer. Peter lost himself and cast across Tony’s chest, weeping suddenly and with unrestrained, ugly sobs. Tony drew him still more snugly and murmured, “I’m here. I’m here, Peter. I’m here.”

With enormous effort, Peter lobbed out fragments of words amid incoherent cries. Their meaning tripped on hiccups and even he couldn’t discern them. Even knowing Tony couldn’t understand them, Peter abandoned all control; he wanted so desperately to say I was scared! I was so scared and there was a man who scared me and I can’t explain why and I feel so ruined and filthy and I had to fight him off on my own and he was so much larger than I and the guard said I deserved it— he said it was my own fault and I still feel the slimy wetness of blood on my elbow and he kept saying he would hurt me and I wanted you so much— I wanted you to come and you’re here and I’m so happy but I can’t feel happy. I’m still so scared and it won’t go away.

Tony listened and several times softly asked, “What was that, Pete? What did you say?”

But Peter could only cling to him, so broken and small, and weeping and coughing, but drawing comfort from Tony’s strong arms and the quiet timber of his voice, and finally, after a long, harrowing trial, feeling safe. Safe at last!

Tony’s embrace guarded Peter long after he’d quieted. Peter had fallen asleep against him in the carriage, completely collapsed physically and emotionally. Tony couldn’t imagine how exhausted he must be. Tony also had seen, dimly in the lamplight of the jailhouse, a nasty scrape on the bottom of Peter’s chin. The kid’s clothes were smeared with grime. His stomach rumbled in his sleep. Also, Tony couldn't be sure whether Peter had vomited outside the jailhouse from being sick or from the undeniable stress he must feel. “This is a hell of a state I’m returning you to your aunt in…” Tony muttered in the dark. "Hope Friday got word to her at least."

Acute pain at the sight of this kid he loved so much, this bright and passionate boy, churned through Tony, and once Peter had fallen asleep, it was joined by a protective anger. He couldn’t understand what Peter had been trying to tell him as he convulsed with sobs, but Tony made out enough to know that he was terrified and threatened and no one had helped him. None of the adults, the ones who should have stepped in, had defended him. With shame, Tony considered himself one of those who had failed Peter.

They had waited too long, Pepper and he, to challenge the apprenticeship contract. He knew that Jameson was unkind and mistrustful; he had not expected the man would actually expose Peter to danger, though. He should have known; he shouldn’t have waited -- and for the flimsy excuse of giving a gift. "He doesn't even celebrate Christmas," Tony chided himself.

Pepper was back at the jailhouse giving the police hell. He wished they could trade places. He knew how to raise a riot, to condemn and debate, and assert; but here, with Peter curled against him, Tony felt ill-equipped and fairly stupid. He was being called to do something completely different. It was his job to comfort a child . Absolute terror seized him.

“Well, this is what I wanted, right? A child.” He shifted and Peter juddered, burying his face into Tony’s shoulder. His hands gripped Tony’s coat. “Oh God.” Tony thought then relaxed, trying to encourage himself (not something he was used to doing.) “Ready or not… He’s depending on me now,” he thought.

#amphora #What I Can Afford is Yours

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