#right now one of his establishing chapters is about him meeting a woman at the airport on his way to where the book takes place

[hawnks]

one thing about this story is that im struggling to find the edge of how deeply fucked up a character can be before a reader starts to hate them

[morallyinept]

Five Days - A Joel Miller Series

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.1k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Setting the scene. Establishing characters. Joel will make his debut in chapter 2. Nothing too heavy to note in this chapter.

Enjoy! 🖤

The wooden gates are tall, thick.

You can’t see over them or through them much either. But you can hear the sounds of approaching horses on the other side, the clip-clopping of many sets of impending hooves.

The four horsemen that flank you all push you forward without touching you. Their threats are enough to have kept you moving at a steady pace the whole arduous journey here. The one on the pale horse to your right, that's Death, you're convinced.

You know without a shadow of a doubt that if you or the others try anything, a bullet will rip through the back of your brain stem as he keeps watch with ghostly dead orbs fixated on you.

You glance at Kelper; his furtive eyes meet yours. He breathes out slowly, but he’s clearly as rattled as you are.

You throw a nervous glance over your shoulder at the other three - Max, Guthrie and Sal - and their dirty, frightened faces mirror yours. You gulp, stopping dead in your tracks as the gates are fully wrenched open.

You all immediately raise your hands as you're met with barrels of guns aimed at you from more men on horses. There are so many of them.

Shit.

Two men who are not on horseback, are pulled forward by rabid dogs that bark and fight against the chains choking them; they circle you all. You freeze, staying as still as you can as the dogs rumble around with snapping teeth, sniffing you out for possible infection.

Once you’re all deemed clear, your heart rate slows, but still thuds against your rib cage as you wait anxiously.

All their eyes are on you; this tiny, dishevelled group of unarmed strangers who have floated unexpectedly into their territory. They all believe you to be a bigger threat to them than any infected that may stray by. That fear is evidenced by the weapons they brandish so uncouthly at you all.

Five, against at least sixteen. Plus the four at the rear. Clumsy maths tells you you’re massively outnumbered if you were to try anything.

They make sure you know this.

The infected they can predict; feed and kill, it's an MO that’s catatonically simple. But living people with functioning brains are wildly unpredictable and that’s what makes them - you - dangerous.

“Ain’t nothing quite like that Wyoming hospitality, huh?” Kelper whispers to you. It's just like him to try and make light of the terrifying predicament, but it fails to reassure you this time.

“You think they’ll listen to us?” You murmur back to Kelper warily.

A woman rides up in between the horses on a brown stud. And the marksmen part like the Red Sea to make way for her.

She looks important, authoritative in her stance and tough shoulders framed with flowing wayward braids like Medusa's snakes, and Kelper notices it too.

“If they want to keep on living this way, they’ll have to.” He murmurs back.

You glance past them all; the commune inside the gates is thriving much to your surprise. Timber houses, throes of green plants; children that don’t appear malnourished run around freely. Your stomach rumbles and you can't remember the last time you ate something substantial.

Kelper takes a singular step forward slowly, and the repeated frantic hollering for him to remain still pulls your focus back to the charged situation at hand. A fragile powder keg that could go off with one wrong move or word exchanged.

And then you’re all fucked.

“We’re not here to cause any trouble, we’re not hostile." He assures. His voice is clear and steady despite the noticeable tremor in his fingers. “But you have to listen to me, your very lives here depend on it.”

The woman on the horse speaks. “We don’t take kindly to threats.”

Kelper shakes his head. “No. It’s a friendly warning, ma’am. If you’ll please hear me out, that is?”

She nods once after eyeing him cautiously and he continues to make his case. “There’s a horde of infected not too far from here. About fifteen miles out west, give or take. Over a thousand at least, possibly strayed from the cities.”

The woman flinches at this revelation, but remains steady. Kelper recommences. “We lost our people to them. This is the last of us, five. We lost everything-”

She interrupts harshly. “I’m sorry, I really am-”

“I know what you’re going to say. You can’t help us. You can’t make room for us... I can understand that.” Kelper bites back, but is non-threatening.

“No. We have plenty of room.” She corrects.

You baulk, but the glib comment doesn't throw him off.

“I get it, we’re a threat to you. You don’t know us. This world has made people less trusting and made others who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of that. Coming here with a wild story about mass infected? Hell, I would have shot me already and been done with it.” Kelper explains through a hard swallow and you know he means it.

He would have if the shoe were on the other foot. You’ve witnessed it time and again. It’s one of the reasons you’re still alive.

“But what I tell you is true, whether you believe me or not. You have more scouts, right? These fine gentlemen here,” he motions to the four menacing horsemen behind him that ambushed you all, “they spotted us a mile off and I don’t doubt that you have more out there protecting your interests. It’s wise of you, it’s what I did with my people. There are worse things out there than infected, ma’am.”

The woman nods slowly, listening.

“But send some out west, and you’ll see. I can show you where on a map. All it takes is for that horde to get wind of you here and they’ll be on you like hornets to a popsicle. And all this? Everything you’ve built here, will be gone.” Kelper implores.

“You underestimate us.” The woman says boldly.

Kelper shakes his head. “No ma’am. I don’t doubt that you can take care of your business, your people. By the looks of it you've done a stand up job so far. It’s a heck of a fortress you got going on here. You’ve endured and survived. But you're massively outnumbered. Against a thousand, maybe more? You know it.” Kelper steadied.

The woman tensed, soothing her horse when it whinnied with a gentle pat to its head.

“You don't strike me as impulsive; it’s why you guys have survived so long, right? Why you’ll continue to, long after this is over.”

You remain still as you scan the faces of some of the marksmen peering at one another uneasily as Kelper speaks. He’s getting through to them. You realise you’ve been holding your breath as you splutter. One of the men holding a rifle eyes you carefully.

The woman breathes in as you breathe out, and you can see her shoulders relax a little; her grip on the reins loosen.

“You’re smart, ma’am. I can sense that about you. You know this can’t be ignored and will need a careful plan. They’re right on your doorstep and could be coming at you any day. We can help you with that. We want to help you. That's why we came, to warn you.” Kelper continues.

The woman looks at a man on her left; one of the marksmen with a bald, shiny head reddening from the sun. He returns a stare back to her, mirroring her own concerns.

Your arms are aching and you lower them a little, still keeping your palms out. Your eyes are watering from squinting in the hot glare above. Your mouth is the driest you've ever recalled it being in your lifetime.

All around you are rifles and guns pointed in your face and you try to breathe normally. Counting the stark, slow minutes until a decision is made, whether it’s in your favour or not.

“All I ask is that you let us help you-”

“Why?” She interrupts. “Why do you want to help us?”

“Because,” Kelper said, “I wish someone had helped us.”

The woman eyes him carefully. You feel it grip your heart as you hear the small choke on the end of his words.

“No-one else needs to die because of any stubbornness or mistakes... Once it’s over, we’ll be on our way, if that’s what you insist. We know our place. But we'd be grateful if you can spare some food, something to drink whilst we’re here? We’ve been displaced on the road for days. I know you know what that’s like, ma’am.” Kelper professes to the woman.

She bristles and you see her swallow; her hard eyes then soften a little and you smile inwardly.

He did it, Kelper got through. You breathe out freely, your stance relaxing a little.

“My name is Maria.” She states to him.

“I’m Kelper.” Kelper nods with a warm smile.

He then introduces you and the others fanned out behind you, and she acknowledges you all with a tight line for a smile as the guns are lowered; your numb arms finally drop by your sides keenly.

“If what you say is true Kelper, then we are thankful for your arrival.” Maria concludes. “It’s rare to find people who want to help these days. We’ll send out some scouts to verify your information,” she addresses the bald man now and he turns on his horse and heads away behind her. Two others follow him back into the commune. “Whilst we assess the situation, we’ll get you settled in.” Maria adds to Kelper. “You’re right, I do know what it’s like to be out there.”

“Thank you,” Kelper praises earnestly.

“But don’t you or any of your people mistake my kindness for naivety. Whilst you're here, you’ll be under our careful watch until we can trust you.” She warned starkly. “You’ll need to earn your keep if you want to stay on.”

“Whatever you need from us, we’ll be happy to cooperate.” Kelper turns to you with a small, hopeful smile.

You smile at the men on the horses gratefully as they lower their guns, and then at Maria, whose face still remains sceptical, but softer with it.

“Welcome to Jackson,” she finishes.

You stay under the shower for an indeterminable amount of time.

Hot, running water has never felt so good on your aching bones. It feels so good that you let out a wondrous sob into the jet; welling up over something so trife as cleaning yourself.

Something that was previously taken for granted so much in another life.

Once dried off, you find a small basket left on your new bed. Clean clothes, some personal products such as a hairbrush, toothbrush with paste; some sanitary products and a small vial of oily perfume that looks like it’s handmade.

You pop out the cork and it smells of lavender and you smile in awe. It’s been a while since you remember what it feels like to smell clean and fragrant.

Your small group had been given rooms divided between two houses, side by side, in the commune. You were sharing with Sal, and the boys were tucked up in the house next door. Discreet guards were stationed across the street opposite, but you were free to mingle.

In fact Maria had encouraged it, and pointed out a bar along the way as she'd shown you all around.

The Tipsy Bison, it was called. You and Kelper couldn’t help but look at one another in mirth, astonished at such a thing and the commune’s sense of humour to boot.

“We brew our own beer here,” Maria had announced proudly.

You took note of the houses in various stages of being constructed; men and women working on the wooden beams and erecting frames further down the street as you were led towards them. The people here were industrious and keen to grow and expand, it seemed.

There were gardeners tending to an array of plentiful vegetables being grown, people who looked after the horses, and you passed small tables under canopies that were laden full of objects being sorted, like clothes, cans of food and other such items that you assumed they had scavenged en masse.

The house smelled fresh with a new paint aroma; it housed furniture and basic amenities that made it feel like a home. It had running water, electricity and even a TV. “There’s no live stations of course, but you can watch a DVD; there’s a vast collection in the library you can choose from.” Maria had explained.

“You have a library?” Kelper had asked, blinking excitedly.

“And a school and a cinema. We found a projector and it works pretty well.” She’d stated. “Town movie nights on Fridays at the bar. We have an infirmary too,” she had said regarding Guthrie's busted up arm, and he was fixed up, returning with his arm set in a cast a while later as if by some unknown magic.

Compared to what Kelper had so eagerly provided you, despite his aspirations it wasn’t much, but he provided warmth, safety and food. However this place was a stationed sanctuary. A place of some of the old normality in a world where it had all been stripped down to the bare bones to be picked at.

With the windows open now in the bedroom as you finished getting dressed, the scent of wild flowers wafts in. If you close your eyes this could feel like you were back home; the sounds of birds, children laughing and chatter ebbing in from outside. Like the world was still normal and not ravaged by monsters ready to tear you up.

You take a moment to absorb it all in, to let the worry and angst fall from your shoulders and it feels good to feel a little lighter, even if it’s fleeting.

As you pull on clean socks - clean socks! - There’s a faint rap at the bedroom door. Kelper’s on the other side, freshly groomed with a buzzcut and full shave, and you smile in wonderment at how different he looks after being hidden under a scraggly beard for so long. He’s lost about ten years and it’s a dramatic change.

“Look at you!” You exclaim in wonderment.

“Had a Charles Manson vibe about me, no wonder they wanted to shoot us.”

You chuckle. “That's a heck of a haircut. Going to have to get used to it.”

“Yeah, Maria did it. She did a pretty good job of it too,” he says, running his hand over his now much shorter hair. “We talked. She’s inherently formidable, but I trust her.”

“The others settled in?” You ask, smiling.

He nods, stepping forward as you beckon him in and shut the door. “I think so, they're nervous. But they’ll be fine. The town is wary of us though, she was right when she said they’d have eyes on us. Can’t take a piss without feeling it.”

“Yeah. I'd be wary too.” You surmise.

“I’ve agreed to meet with Maria and the council members in the morning when their scouts report back. I think I’ve come up with a solution that could work with the horde.” Kelper explains.

“Such as?” You ask, pulling on your boots and lacing them.

Kelper plonks his butt on the end of your bed. “I’ve been looking at some maps with Maria this afternoon whilst we brainstormed. There’s a canyon about twenty-five miles from here. If we can lead the infected up there, get them in somehow, we can blow it. Crush the fuckers.”

“You wanna blow up a canyon?” You baulk. “Kelper, you don’t do things by half. Shit."

He chortles back. “It’s the best shot. The risk is too high if we let them roam freely. They're too close.”

“It could work, I guess.” You were imagining it in your head. Big explosions and masses of infected blown to smithereens. You felt no pity for their impending doom, not after what they did to your people.

You shook away the thoughts of panic and the screams still ringing inside your ears.

“Just gotta hope they have the means to pull it off. Going to need some serious firepower.” Kelper states.

“They’re packing pretty heavily,” you say, peering through the windows out into the commune. Men were walking openly around with guns, some with military grade artillery. “I've seen a couple of sexy M-16's." You arch your brow and cock a smirk at him.

"Easy there," he smirks back "we know you like 'em big and powerful."

You chuckle. "They’re bound to have collected or scavenged a haul and God knows what else. Probably picked off the old FEDRA outposts like we did. No way they’d leave this place unprotected.”

“I wouldn’t.” Kelper agrees with you.

You turn back to him. “You didn’t.” You remind him.

He sighs, feeling the recent loss resurface too. “I tried my best.” He dips his head and clears non-existent gunk out from under his nails; a trait when he’s nervous or upset you’ve noticed. “There were too fucking many-”

“What we lost wasn’t your fault, okay? We start over, rebuild.” You confirm gently. “That's all we can do.”

"Endure and survive." He affirms.

"Exactly."

He smiles thinly at you. “I want you there tomorrow.” Kelper confirms. “Your input.”

“You sure?”

He scoffs. “You serious? You’re the Goose to my Maverick.”

You smile, nodding. “Always.”

“Wouldn’t have made it this far without you. None of us would have. They need to know you’re strong, an asset.” Kelper states.

“We all are,” you correct him. Although most days it doesn’t feel like it.

It pulls in your intestines to know that the five of you that survived, are the five of you that were indeed the strongest of your group, and probably the most broken for it now too.

You take a moment to remember the ones who aren’t here anymore. And it’s as stark as it is bleak. The screams, the blood... it's all too much to even fathom. A few days ago you were a unit, a stronghold. A community. Now you're all just tattered, frayed tendrils ripped to shreds.

You still can't understand why or how it happened. Fuck, it happened so quickly. A blink of an eye and it was just... gone.

They're all gone.

You can feel the encroaching tears start to make your eyes shine but you blink them away. There’s no time for that. Endure and survive.

“So, shall we go and sample this home brewed beer?” Kelper suggests, standing up.

“You read my fucking mind,” you state with a smile.

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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TAGLIST: If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know.

Tagging everyone who asked to be tagged & who re-blogged my teaser.

@secretelephanttattoo @morgaussy @darkheartgatita @sp00kymulderr @survivingandenduring @sin-djarin @lilmizmoz @yazsos @ryangoslingstanktop @barbellpedro @givemeth @anavatazes @alwaysmicado @the-blind-assassin-12 @kirsteng42 @missredherring @gasolinerainbowpuddles @millennial-teenybopper @maggiemayhemnj @harriedandharassed @stevie75 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @chaoticfestninja @reddedmiller @doughmonkey @sonderosa @basicoccult @chronically-ghosted @pedroswife69 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @marisemonteiroo @everythingiwanttoread @jjhayhay20 @blackfemalenerd @perennialdoll247 @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin @sscorpiiio @untamedheart81 @srmacaroni @violinchick @orcasoul @lucyeyelesbarrow @mandrillusphinx @loveisacowboyyy @suzmagine @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @within-the-depths

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party

Bonus Hug - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, post-game, epilogue, cw: alcohol, jealousy

WC: 2.1k words, 18/18 chapters

Summary: An epilogue hug! Astarion sees Rogue!Tav giving out hugs and wants one of his own.

Author's Note: This was not part of the original fic, added on after the epilogue was released, however I chose to put my own spin on the epilogue hug.

Finally, Whether you read this fic AO3, on Tumblr, or a combo of both, thanks so much for joining the hugfest! I love this vampire man, and may he have many, many more hugs <3

Ao3 | [Hug17] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

It’s been six months since your victory at Baldur’s Gate.

Six months of traveling through the Underdark with Astarion, establishing a base for the vampire spawn, and figuring out your next steps together. It was perilous and difficult work, but you wouldn’t change a single thing. 

You have missed your former companions dearly though, so when you received the invitation from Withers for a celebration, the smile that broke across your face could blind a celestial. I wouldn’t miss this for anything – not even a fresh new apocalypse, you wrote back.

So that’s how you and Astarion have found yourselves above ground once again, the familiar wilderness of the Sword Coast a welcome sight, the distinguished company an even more welcome one.

Everyone seems to be doing quite well, despite how you all left each other. Lae’zel is only able to visit through a projection, and the reprieve is rather temporary for a few of your companions– namely Wyll and Karlach– However, it’s a rare opportunity and you’re incredibly grateful to have it.

The elation must be obvious on your face, as Astarion takes one look at you and laughs. His sing-song little giggle never fails to bring a smile to your face, and right now your face is liable to crack open. “Go on, dear,” he says, sensing the eager tension in your body. “Mingle! If you need me, I shall be near the wine.”

“You can mingle too, you know,” you say, though you’ve already begun to walk away.

“Invite me again after a few bottles,” he responds. You know he loves them all in his own way, but he also finds them to be a bit too much at times. Ever the stray cat, he’ll find his way to them when he’s ready, at least you hope. So you nod to him in agreement and wander off to chat with your dearest friends.

You’re so excited to see them all again that you’re practically jogging to meet them. 

Shadowheart is the first. When you get a good look at her, you see a peace in her face that you haven’t seen in any of the months you’ve known her. Something about it brings you relief. You knew they would each find their happiness without you, but seeing it firsthand is something else. Perhaps it’s because she’s looking so much more herself than ever, but before long you find yourself asking, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is caring and welcoming and everything you knew Shadowheart has always been.

Next you make your way to Karlach. She’s alive and well, which is ten times better than the last time you saw her, and you just might cry from the sight. She tells you about Avernus and about the possibility to fix her heart and you just might cry from that as well. Again, you can’t resist, especially knowing she’s been fighting for her life for six months. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is warm and strong, just like the woman in your arms.

After that, you make your way to Wyll. He’s doing rather well in Avernus with Karlach, and, when he mentions that he’s planning to ensure Karlach finds a solution to her heart, a few tears well in your eyes. Wyll is among the best of mortal and immortal men, and you’re glad he went with Karlach when you couldn’t. The grateful feeling is more than you can put into words, so you ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is strong and bracing and an absolute testament to Wyll’s enduring friendship.

You find your way to Lae’zel. After learning of her diligent efforts to save her people from Vlaakith, you can’t help but be awestruck by how much she’s changed. You’re inspired by her ability to learn to fight with words and stunned by how much she truly misses you. Even though she’s not there, you can’t help yourself, “Could I have a hug?” She simply clicks her tongue at you and calls you an idiot, somehow melting your heart all the same.

Eventually, you find Gale, tucked away with the tressym Tara. He’s a teacher and no longer at risk of exploding – you can’t help laughing at that, remembering the various times he almost blew you all up without the help of an all-powerful orb. Something about the way he speaks of his new role and invites you to visit, either to teach or just to spend time, makes you realize that this is what a happy wizard looks like. You love it and ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is all-encompassing and lengthy, much like one of Gale’s lessons in magic.

Finally, you find Halsin, dancing the night away. When you learn more about his endeavors, you find that he’s reestablishing the settlement at Reithwin, reconnecting the land to its people. He mentions that Thaniel and Oliver are no longer lonely and that the children of the settlement bring him a fulfillment he never thought possible. After regaling him of an exaggerated tale of your and Astarion’s adventures, you assure him that the two of you will visit soon to tell more. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is surprisingly gentle and comforting, and you walk away feeling quite content.

You determine that you’ll need to ask the rest, even Withers, for hugs if they’ll all be this enjoyable. But before you do that, you decide to take a moment to yourself, to process everything.

That’s how you find your way to a quiet corner, head spinning with warm, fuzzy feelings and maybe a smidge too much wine. Just being here, surrounded by some of the best people you’ve ever had the privilege to encounter, fills you with a companionship you weren’t aware you’d been missing. Astarion fills you with so much love and happiness, but this– this is different.

As if summoned with your thoughts, the vampire walks toward you, wine glass in hand. "Are you done mingling?" Sensing your mind is elsewhere, he leans closer, inspecting your glassy, faraway gaze. His hand lands on the small of your back, jolting your attention back to the present and you turn to look at him. His eyes sparkle at you with radiant joy and a hint of something else. Could that be annoyance?

You decide to focus on the joy. "Yes, I think I've managed to get good conversations out of everyone. Did you know Gale wants me to go teach at Waterdeep?" Your voice sounds incredulous, after all, you warned him: once a rogue, always a rogue. Unless he wants his students to learn how to stab more efficiently, he would do best to seek someone else.

Astarion clearly agrees, making an exaggerated, aghast expression. "You? A teacher?" He shudders in fake-fear. "My love, I pity the poor students who would be subjected to your methods."

“Hey,” you say, shooting him a glare. “I thought you were supposed to be the supportive one!”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I can only support so much, my dear.” Then he takes a long look at you, noticing how unfocused your eyes are, the flush to your face. “And from the looks of it, I may need to support your entire body before the night is over.”

You only grin at him and say, “What did I do to deserve such a caring man?”

“Yes, yes,” he says, rubbing gentle circles along your back. “Likely whatever you did to deserve the affections of every adventurer this side of the Chionthar.” His tone is joking, but the dark look on his face says otherwise.

Pushing aside your own amusement, you pull his hand from your back and lean into him. “Okay, what's the matter, love?”

“Oh nothing. I just thought my jealous days were behind me.” He sounds sullen, and you note a sad tilt to his eyebrows.

Jealous days? You groan, recalling his concern over the fiery barbarian. “Love, really truly, if I were leaving you for Karlach, I would have gone to Avernus months ago.”

He waves his wine glass at you dismissively. “I know that, and I don’t mean Karlach, contrary to all evidence thus far.” Suddenly avoiding your gaze, he takes a sip of wine and changes the subject. “No matter, let’s go ask Withers where he found this vintage.” 

“No, no, no,” you say, tugging him back to you before he can walk off. After another six months together, getting used to each other’s idiosyncrasies outside of mortal peril (mostly out of mortal peril), you knew the escape was only a ruse. He wants to talk, but he seems too embarrassed to begin. “You’re allowed to be jealous, Astarion. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me why.”

Astarion stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a pair of vulnerable red eyes. “Do you promise not to laugh?”

You take a beat to debate this, but ultimately honesty wins over and you shake your head. “I wish I could, but I do promise to try my best?”

A sigh escapes him, and you’re graced with a soft, reluctant smile. “Typical. You were truthful though, so I shall be too. I was rather jealous of…” He wipes a hand over his face dramatically. “I was jealous that you’ve gone and hugged everyone else. Gods, I sound like a child.”

It’s a good thing you only promised to try your best because an involuntary huff leaves your lips, which you'd firmly pressed together in preparation. "That is…" you gasp out.

"Idiotic? Pathetic?" Astarion supplies.

"Rather adorable actually," you say, finally allowing a snort out. “How do you always manage to be both adorable and sexy?”

You swear you can see the tips of his ears color pink, but that may just be the firelight or your own tipsy vision. He only says, “I’m quite talented.”

“Would a hug help you feel better?”

Astarion looks at you, eyes darting between yours. You can see a bit of hesitation in them, and you’re wondering why when he says, “Only if it’s not a pity hug.”

“Never,” you say, solemnly. “You know I only give hugs I mean.”

He clicks his tongue, annoyed again. He places his wine glass down on the ground with a flourish, as if preparing himself. “Yes, exactly. Which is why I’ve gone and become jealous. This is all your fault and I expect you to remedy it.”

You nod, accepting this burden with ease. “In that case… Could I hug you?” Astarion waves his hand at you as if to say, get on with it already, and you dive right in. 

The hug is loving, it’s understanding and supportive. It warms you, it cools you, and it makes you want to tackle this man to the ground in an aggressive affection– a feeling you only barely temper after a few glasses of wine. After experiencing so many hugs tonight, you find that the hug is so very perfectly him.

No, not just him. It’s the type of hug that the both of you make together. And it’s the hug you want to experience again and again for the rest of your life.

When you finally pull away from him, Astarion is smiling once more, jealousy evidently placated. “Well now, I have you every night, don’t I? Go on then, continue to bless them with your presence. I’ll be here when you’re ready. I’ll always be here, my love.”

You shake your head at him. “A lovely sentiment, of course, but you’re done hiding. Come on.”

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing as he tilts away from you.

“I said, you’re done hiding. No more shadows, they all keep asking about you and I’d rather you answer them yourself,” you say, all but dragging him back to the party now. “They miss you too, you know.”

“Darling, please. What if they ask me for a hug?” Astarion looks truly appalled at the thought.

You laugh, imagining him reacting like a cat forced into a bathtub. “You can say no, of course. But I promise not to get too jealous if you do.”

“What will it take for you to forget I ever said that?” he says, laughing and allowing himself to be dragged.

You quickly swipe his wine glass back up off the ground as you pull him along, and take a long drink before returning it to him. You only say, “At least two more bottles, though I suppose that depends on how wild Withers likes his parties.”

Hand-in-hand, you both walk off to enjoy the rest of the celebration. The night is young, the wine is flowing, and there are still many more hugs to be shared.

[haesunflower]

the soulmates unfortunately series (zb1) [preview]

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ABOUT. here's the thing about soulmates, once you meet the one that is meant for you, you start to age. the biological clock starts to tick, and you are no longer the fresh faced 20 year old. years go by, and next thing you know it, you've grown old and wrinkly – right next to the love of your life. but here's the thing about y/n, she hated that.

y/n has had many soulmates in her lifetime, 4 of which had made a significant impact on her life. namely, her first husband, kim jiwoong. the man that she had a daughter with, zhang hao. the husband that raised her daughter, sung hanbin. and finally, ricky shen. (un)fortunately for her, her soulmates keep dying.

genre: romance with adult themes warnings: mentions of death, blood, character death, killers, cursing, etc. contains adult themes. each chapter will have specified warnings. note: yujin is not in this series as he is not 18 yet.

CHAPTERS

chapter zero: the first few soulmates

chapter one: the man she first married, kim jiwoong

chapter two: the man she had a daughter with, zhang hao

chapter three: the man that raised her daughter, sung hanbin

chapter four: unfortunately, ricky shen

chapter five: the finale

PREVIEW OF CH ZERO. (below the cut)

“Got anything that’ll get me drunk in the next ten minutes?” 

You plopped down on the bar stool, haphazardly placing your purse next to you. The bartender is eyeing you strangely, as if in disbelief that you’re even inside their hole in the wall establishment. 

You sigh and pull out your identification card, a laminated piece of junk that tells you how old you really are. Scratch that, how old you are meant to be. He picks up the card and raises it up next to your face, comparing the woman in the picture to the you that sits in front of him. It reminds you that you need to get it renewed…again. After all, the last time you updated your photo was sometime in the 80s, reflecting a version of you with big hair and large colorful earrings. You don’t blame him for wanting to double check, contrasting the all-black ensemble you currently sport. 

“Listen pal, I just buried my daughter today. I would appreciate it if you could get on with it”. You might not blame him, but you are impatient. 

He slides your ID card back and pours you a whiskey on the rocks. “Sorry for your loss ma’am” he solemnly extends his condolences as he places your drink in front of you. You pick it up, raising it and nodding a “thank you” before taking a large gulp. It burns. 

You outlived your daughter. And you wonder if you’ve been going about life in all the wrong ways.

Atop the alcohol display at the bar is a small TV, flashing a report about a young woman named Somi who was murdered and found dead at her home – leaving her husband a widower. The news station flashed a photo of the blonde couple, sharing that they had just gotten married a week ago. She was beautiful. A shame. 

At that moment, a tall man enters the bar and decides to take a seat next to you. Other than the fact that he too, is dressed in all black – you feel a deeper sense of similarity. Like kindred spirits, you recognize broken souls like yours. You order two more rounds of the whiskey the bartender gave you. 

“I heard about your late wife in the news, I’m sorry for your loss.” You feign sympathy and slide the glass to the man next to you. 

He looks taken aback at first, but accepts your offer. Now facing you, he raises his drink to you. You do the same.

He’s strikingly handsome, with platinum hair and dark eyebrows. You also don’t miss that he’s dressed in Yves Saint Laurent from head to toe. He takes a peek at your ID card still laying on the table, making sure to catch your name. 

“Next one’s on me, Y/N” he says, taking another swig at his whiskey, finishing his glass. He calls on the bartender, and buys an entire bottle for the two of you. The bartender returns his credit card, with the name ‘Shen Quanrui’ engraved. 

“Thank you Quanrui, that’s very generous of you.” 

He puts on a small smile, almost no one calls him by his legal name. “You can call me Ricky” he says as he pours into your glass. 

“Alright Ricky. Here’s to life.” you raise up. It feels inappropriate to be clinking glasses on the day you buried your daughter, but you figured you could make an exemption. Ricky too, seemed to be going through the same thing with his late wife. 

“To life.” he responds, tapping his glass against yours. 

Just two broken souls who had lost someone important in their lives, drinking to fill the hollowness. You almost don’t feel the familiar bloom in your chest, tugging at your entire being like a magnet trying to find its other half. And if you do feel it, you pretend it’s the whiskey burning its place in your heart. 

REPLY OR SEND AN ASK TO BE TAGGED TO THIS SERIES

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[sailor-aviator]

Jake "Hangman" Seresin Series

Hi! Here is a list of the series I'm writing for Jake "Hangman" Seresin! Each series has multiple chapters and you can find their brief summaries underneath the titles! If you would like to read more you can head on over to my Masterlist! If you enjoy my writing, consider buying me a ko-fi!

Masterlist

Don't Hang'em Til Noon (Complete)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you? (Western AU)

Hanging By a Moment (Incomplete, Ongoing)

Taking place directly after the events of "Don't Hang'em Til Noon," this series follows more of Jake and Scout as they traverse life in the New Mexico territories. A drought has hit the town of Maverick, resulting in that year's crops dying. With little food to go around, the Dagger Posse must turn to unsavory means in order to provide for their friends and family. Additionally, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and your brother, Benjamin, have established rights to a gold mine that's now drawing in more and more unsavory characters. Will you have what it takes to survive the growing danger?

Meet Me at the Sea (Complete)

Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you. (Mermaid!Siren!AU)

Fool's Fare (Incomplete, Ongoing)

Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it. (Pirate!AU)

Two Birds (Incomplete, Ongoing)

Growing up in the midwest meant that you weren't exposed to many of the dangers of the world, and it also meant that you missed out on some of what life had to offer. Taking a leap, you move to New York City with a few personal belongings and the little money you have left in your savings. You become good friends with your roommate and, by extension, the people at the club she works at. However, it isn't long until you catch the eye of not one, but two mafia bosses that rule the city with an iron grip. Will you stay out of their clutches, or will you give in and become another pawn in their wicked games? (Mafia!AU)

Road to Perdition (Coming Soon)

The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

By Its Cover (Incomplete, Ongoing)

The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Fortune & Glory (Coming Soon)

Jake Seresin was a well respected archeologist in the field, colleagues and strangers coming from far and wide to seek his expertise on various subjects. However, when an old friend barges into his lecture rambling on about the ten plagues and the Nazis, Jake finds himself thrust into an adventure he's not sure he's necessarily equipped for. He doesn't know much of anything when it comes to pre-Christian artifacts...but he knows someone who does. Will Jake swallow his pride and ask for her help, or will he try to go this one alone? (Indiana Jones!AU)

The Yawning Grave (Coming Soon)

You had always loved the stories your grandfather had told you about the "cunning folk," as he called them. You dreamed of a world beyond our own, but as you grew older, those stories faded into memory. Now, you're freshly graduated from college and on a trip to Scotland with your best friends. What you don't expect, however, is to gain the attention of a mysterious man or the wrath of the woman seemingly with him. You especially don't expect to find yourself in the middle of one of the old stories your grandfather had told you - one where you end up in a world that's not your own and with very few ways out. (Fairy!AU)

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 21

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

“I want you to come somewhere with me in a few weekends.” Dr. Miller ducked under the water beside me and emerged a few seconds later.

I dragged my toes along the small tiles on the bottom of the pool. “Where?”

“It's a surprise.” He scrunched his nose and squinted his eyes as he grinned. Despite our age gap there were times he looked so boyish - like right now.

I made a face back at him. “Everything’s a secret. You gotta give me this one.” I raised my eyebrows and swished my arms around.

Dr. Miller reached for my hands and pulled me toward the deep end like we did in the past. When my hands rested on his shoulders and I began to kick my feet, he gave in.

“Over the long weekend in February my sister is getting married. Come with me. Be my.. plus one.”

“Her wedding.” I smiled and then laughed. “She doesn't even know me.”

“We can change that.”

“What if she doesn't like me?”

Dr. Miller grinned. “My sister likes everyone who I like. She trusts my judge of character.”

“I’d love to go. I just.. that's a big night for your sister. I don't want to ruin it.”

He chuckled again. “How could you ruin it? Just don't drink too much and vomit on her dress and I think she'll be just fine.”

I snickered and took a deep breath, continuing to kick. “Are you sure?”

“If you don't want to go, I understand. I just-”

“I do.” I cut him off before he could continue. “I want to go.”

“Good.” He pecked my lips and continued to swim backwards until we reached the other side. “Then it's a date.”

“Where is it?”

“At the Stowe Ski Resort in Vermont.”

“I can't ski,” I said with a chuckle.

Dr. Miller smiled wide. “Well, you can't swim either, yet here we are.” He let his eyebrows rise and fall and I chuckled.

“Good point.” I slicked back his hair and planted a kiss on his lips. “Okay.. as long as it's okay with your sister.. I'll go.”

..

Two weekends later, Dr. Miller and I were walking hand-in-hand up the pebbly walkway of Red Maple Vineyard. I was nervous. Dr. Miller’s sister seemed to mean the world to him. Meeting her for the first time had me on pins and needles.

What if she doesn't like me? I kept asking myself that question over and over. Would our age gap bother her?

The two of us passed by the main doors to the establishment and headed to a back patio. It was littered with firepits, each one surrounded by a fake, see-through igloo.  Patrons dressed in winter hats and scarves, all toting wine glasses and talking with smiles inside of them.

When Dr. Miller grinned and gave a wave, my stomach knotted up. At the far, left corner of the patio a woman rose to her feet with the same friendly wave. She was a beautiful woman, with shortly cropped brown hair and high cheekbones. Jamie Lee Curtis in the flesh. The salt-and-pepper haired man who was seated beside her rose to his feet in preparation to greet us.

Moment of truth. I knew I needed to make a good impression.

“My favorite brother,” Carol greeted, pulling Dr. Miller I'm for a hug.

“Your only brother,” he added with a laugh, kissing her on the cheek.

“Still my favorite.” She nudged him and looked to me.

“Hi.” I smiled wide and extended a hand in Carol's direction. “I'm (Y/N). It's so nice to meet you.”

“Carol Miller,” she smiled and side-glanced her beau. “Soon to be Brennan.”

“Not soon enough.” The man exchanged a friendly handshake with Joel, and then switched his gaze to me. “Will Brennan.”

“Nice to meet you.” I then added, “Congratulations, by the way.” My eyes danced from Carol to Will and back to Carol.

“Thank you,” they said in unison, before inviting us to sit around the firepit with them.

Dr. Miller placed a hand on my lower back and extended his arm to allow me into the igloo a step ahead of him. I ducked under and sat down between him and his sister.

“We picked up a bottle of Chardonnay and Merlot,” Carol explained. “Preference?” She looked at me and reached for an empty glass. “Or we could grab a bottle of something else.”

“Oh, thank you. Um.. I’m more of a white wine girl.”

“Me, too.” Carol reached for the Chardonnay and poured me a glass before offering the same to her brother, who went with the Merlot.

“So,” Carol eyed the two of us, “How did you two meet?”

The question that made me freeze. I had only been asked one another time, and that by Tori. I assumed Dr. Miller would be giving his sister the same one because we hadn't talked about another faux-scenario.

“We met at the university,” Dr. Miller said.

“Oh,” Carol glanced to meet as she brought the glass of Chardonnay to her lips. “Do you work there, too?”

“I work at the board of education in Windham,” I explained, feeling my cheeks redden. “I’m actually just taking two courses at night. Chipping away at my Masters.”

“Oh, so this is a forbidden romance.” Carol said, motioning between the two of us with the hand she held her wine glass with. “Got it.” Her delivery was so dry I wasn't sure if she was kidding, disapproving or otherwise. I wondered what she would think of me actually being in his class.

Dr. Miller grinned at his sister who finally cracked a smile and gave a wink.

“I'm teasing,” she added. “You're both grown adults.”

Phew.

“I mean, she can't be one to judge,” Will leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “She fell for her boss.”

Carol glanced over at him and they shared a smile-turned-laugh.

“And yet, I still haven't gotten a raise.”

“I thought the diamond ring might've evened that out.”

I smiled to myself at their playful interaction. “How long have you been together?”

Carol rested a hand on his knee. “Almost three years.”

“Carol is the Dean of students at a private high school not far from here,” Dr. Miller informed me.

“Hillcrest Academy,” Carol explained. “And Will is the headmaster.”

“Nepotism,” Dr. Miller mumbled into his wine glass before taking a sip, making Will laugh and Carol roll her eyes.

“Fortunately for us, private schools don't have the same rules as most public schools do. One of us would probably have to leave to teach in another building, but Hillcrest doesn't have a strong nepotism policy. I just can't be the one to directly evaluate her performance.”

“Okay, enough work stuff,” Carol shushed him and leaned back in her chair to cross one leg over the other. “Let's get a little drunk and get to know each other.” She glanced at me with a look like, ‘what do you say'?

“Here, here.” Will raised his glass.

“Sounds good to me.” I brought my glass to the middle and then Dr. Miller and Carol did the same. We alternated tapping our glasses together and got the evening underway.

I was secretly hoping the truth would come out about Dr. Miller’s castle and the money. I was tempted to ask after a few glasses of wine, but I kept my mouth shut. The night ended up full of laughs and old, embarrassing stories. The mood was light, and talking to Carol and Will felt so organic that I certainly wasn't about to spoil it with intrusive questions.

“So,” Carol cleared her throat, swirling the wine that neared the bottom of the glass. The men were having their own conversation so her question was directed at me. “Do you want kids in the future?” Her question drew a quick glance from Dr. Miller and I knew he was fully paying attention despite his interaction with Will.

“Oh, well, eventually.. probably.” I chuckled and sipped from my own glass of wine. “I'm not totally there yet.”

“You've got time.” She tapped my knee and then fanned herself. “These igloos get warm.”

“That's the wine, honey.” Will placed a hand on the back of her neck and gave a squeeze.

Carol removed a white scarf she had on over a blue sweater. “So, Joel says you'll be attending our wedding next month.”

I raised my eyebrows and looked to Dr. Miller, then back to Carol. “If it's okay with you. I mean..”

“She's coming.” He draped an arm around my shoulders and winked, making me look down with a smile and back up.

I looked at Carol. “I'll be there.”

“Well, upon first impressions,” Carol glanced at Dr. Miller and then to me. “I'd love to have you as my brother’s plus one.”

“Congratulations,” Dr. Miller looked at me. “You passed the Carol test.”

“Even I flunked the first time,” Will added, making everyone laugh.

I felt like I was flying when we left the vineyard that night. Things had gone so well. When we exchanged hugs and finally went to our separate cars, I turned to Dr. Miller and kissed him on the cheek.

“Carol likes you,” he said, smiling back.

“She's great,” I gushed, “And Will seems really nice. They seem happy.”

Dr. Miller put his first two fingers beneath my chin. I loved when he did that. He stared at me for a few seconds before leaning in and touching his lips to mine. “Let's go home.”

Home.

I sighed contently, eager to snuggle under the fluffy down comforter in Dr. Miller's bed. I felt completely at ease after being worried about the evening prior to going out. I agreed. “Let's go home.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1

[daisynik7]

Bursting at the Seams

Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~3.3k

cw: switching POVs (2nd and 3rd person), explicit language, kissing, established relationship (yay!)

Summary: You and Mitsuya make your newly blossomed relationship official. To commemorate this special occasion, he invites you to his house for breakfast, where you meet his mother. 

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience with this! I really love writing this story, so I’m doing my best to work on this while I continue a few other WIPs. I appreciate every single one of you who have read this so far. I’m excited to show you all how everything will play out! Would love to know what you think and maybe some predictions on what may happen in the future chapters. Thanks so much for reading!

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Saturday morning, Mitsuya wakes up with a bright smile on his face, the confession from just hours before still replaying in his head like his favorite scene in a movie. He flexes his hand, fondly remembering how hers fit so seamlessly in his. They were close to a kiss; if they hadn’t been interrupted by her parents, he’s sure it would have happened. While he wants nothing more than to feel how soft her lips are, especially pressed against his, he wonders if this is all happening a little too fast. After all, they aren’t official yet. He ought to ask her to be his girlfriend first before he smooches her, right? Isn’t that what a gentleman does?

And is Takashi Mitsuya, founding member and Second Division captain of the Tokyo Manji gang even capable of being a gentleman? Of being a good boyfriend?

He gradually comes down from his dreamy state to contemplate how best to proceed with this. After breakfast, he calls both Draken and Takemitchy, the only two people he knows that are actually succeeding in the boyfriend category. 

“You have a girlfriend now?!” Takemitchy exclaims loudly on the other end. Hina’s in the background, begging him to put it on speaker so she can listen in too. 

“No, not yet. I confessed to her last night and she likes me back.” He smiles to himself, recalling the moment once again. 

“Holy shit, you actually took my advice,” Draken chuckles. “Good shit, man. So did you two kiss yet or…?”

“Well, we almost did,” he explains. “Her parents came out right as we were about to. But it got me thinking that maybe we should make it official first before we do anything irresponsible.”

Draken barks out a laugh. “You know that you can’t get a girl pregnant just from kissing her, right?”

Before Mitsuya can cuss him out, Takemitchy comments, “No, I totally understand where you’re coming from! When Hina and I started dating, we barely held hands. It took even longer for us to kiss! Waiting for the right time just made it all the more special.” 

“Hina, stop holding the gun to his head, we know you’re in the room with us,” Draken teases.

There’s shuffling on their end as she grabs hold of the phone, giggling, “I didn’t even have to tell him to say that! Anyways Mitsuya, I think taking things slow is a wonderful idea!”

“Nah, screw that. You’re a man now, Takashi. And men have needs. As long as she wants it too, I say just go for it.”

“Go for what exactly?” Mitsuya asks, genuinely curious.

“Dude, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Please don’t,” Takemitchy murmurs.

“Nothing gross!” Hina chimes in.

“I’m talking about fu – ”

“Ken Ryuguji!” Emma’s voice rings from the line. “Do not say what I think you’re about to say! Not in front of our child!”

“It can’t even hear yet!” 

Clearly now, Emma insists, “Mitsuya, whatever you do, do not listen to Draken. Go with your heart instead of your…well, you know.”

“Says the woman who is currently pregnant because of you-know-what,” Draken mutters.

“This is totally different. We’ve been together for years. Mitsuya’s only known this girl for a month. And unlike you, Ken Ryuguji, Takashi is actually a sweet guy.”

“Hey!”

She ignores him, adding, “You’ve got all the time in the world. Do what you think is right. Everything will work out in the end.”

He thanks all four of them for their input before ending the call, heeding their advice carefully the remainder of the day as he babysits his sisters at home. It’s probably best for him and Hana to discuss what their expectations are going forward. He has no experience in relationships whatsoever, so naturally, he’s apprehensive. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he somehow becomes a rotten boyfriend. 

Around dinnertime, he decides to text her, asking if she is free to talk on the phone later tonight, to which she confirms that she is. He takes the next few hours to prepare himself, rehearsing what he’d like to say over and over in his head until he tucks his sisters into bed, retreating into his own bedroom to dial Shimizu’s number. 

After two rings, she picks up. “Hello?”

He smiles, happy to hear her voice. “Hi. How are you?”

“Good. And you?”

“Good. Great, actually. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“You’re not. I’m happy you called.”

They exchange pleasantries, recounting each other’s nights before getting to the main matter. His heart skips a beat, getting increasingly nervous, despite how comforting it is to hear her speak so casually with him. When the right opportunity arrives, he clears his throat, remembering what he practiced from earlier. “I just want to make sure that we do this right, you know? I’ve never had a girlfriend, so I really don’t know what to do when it comes to things like this. But I want to do my best to be a good boyfriend to you.”

Her voice is gentle and sweet as she replies, “I feel the same way. I’ve never had a boyfriend either. I don’t know how good of a girlfriend I can be. But I’ll do my best too to be good to you. We’ll learn together. ” 

He grins, touched by her words. “Together. I like that.” He swallows his emotions to continue. “I’m sure your parents won’t approve of you dating a gang member. But you’ll always be safe with me. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Toman. I can promise you that.” 

“It doesn’t matter to me that you’re in Toman. I already feel safe with you, so I’m not concerned about that at all.”

Surprised, he says, “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms with confidence. “I want you to feel safe with me too. I’ll do everything I can to protect you. I mean, I can’t fight. But I promise that I’ll be there for you whenever you need someone to lean on, someone to support you. I want to help you however I can.”

Tears begin to well in his eyes, his heart on the verge of bursting from his chest. He’s never felt anything like this before. He’s always taken pride in protecting the people dearest to him, whether it be his family or his fellow brothers in the gang. And while he knows that his friends will always have his back, knowing that someone outside of Toman is looking out for him, determined to protect him, feels different. Is it okay for Mitsuya to rely on her like this? To be vulnerable and depend on her throughout all the obstacles that come his way? Draken’s words from last night replay in his head. You deserve to be happy. You’re always the one taking care of others, it’s about time someone takes care of you. The more he thinks about it, he realizes that yes, maybe he does deserve this. 

He grabs a tissue from his nightstand, wiping away his sniffles. “You’ve already helped me so much. I don’t know if this makes sense, but when I’m with you, I feel normal. I feel like myself, you know? Like I’m more than just this Toman jacket. I’m just me. A lot of our classmates are too scared to talk to me, and when they do, it’s usually for a favor because of my reputation. But you approached me, wanting sewing lessons. I feel like you see the real me more than anyone else does.”

It takes a several seconds for her to respond, seemingly holding back tears. Eventually, she says, “I’m really glad I came to you for lessons then.”

“Me too.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them as they cherish each other’s heartfelt sentiments, Mitsuya stares at his bedroom ceiling with the phone pressed to his hear, wishing he could see her right now. “So, Hana Shimizu.”

She giggles. “Yes, Takashi Mitsuya?”

“Would you please do me the honor and be my girlfriend?”

There’s more of her precious laughter as she answers, “Yes. And will you do me the honor and be my boyfriend?”

“Absolutely yes,” he replies, smiling even wider. He’s tempted to get out of bed and drive to her house to commemorate this special occasion, but he resists. Instead, he blurts out, “Do you want to come over for breakfast tomorrow? I really want to see you before school on Monday. I can make pancakes. Plus, my mom has a late shift and she’ll be home, so you can meet her.”

“Isn’t this too soon to be meeting your mother?” 

“Is it? Are there rules against it or something?”

She laughs. “I guess not. We can make up our own rules. As long as we’re learning together, right?”

“You know I like the sound of that. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight, Takashi.”

His breath hitches, enjoying the sound of his name from her mouth a little too much. Chest fluttering with affection, he says quietly, “Goodnight, Hana.”

~~~

Within twenty-four hours of his confession, you are officially Takashi Mitsuya’s girlfriend. 

You stare wide-eyed at the ceiling of your bedroom in disbelief, the phone still warm in your grasp having just finished your conversation with your now boyfriend. You’re tingling all over, utterly amazed and completely ecstatic at this recent turn of events. Who would have thought you, plain and ordinary Hana Shimizu, would be anyone’s girlfriend, let alone Takashi Mitsuya’s girlfriend? 

It takes you a while to fall asleep, mind racing with thoughts and fantasies of your new relationship. You wake up the next morning, both nervous and excited to see him. Knowing that you’ll be meeting his mom today, you put on your best dress, hoping to make a good impression. You quietly step down the stairs, barely sticking your head into the kitchen to greet your parents. “Morning! I’m going out for breakfast!” 

Before you can sneak away, your mother calls out to you. “With who? Mei and Keiko?”

You contemplate lying, but you know that never pans out well. So, praying they don’t question it, you answer, “I’m going to the Mitsuyas.” You listen for any reaction, and when you only hear hushed whispers between your parents, you slip into your shoes, heading out the door. 

It’s a short trip to his house, less than ten minutes. You knock on the front door, taking a deep breath. He answers quickly, a smile already on his face, eyes full of kindness as he greets you. “Hana, good morning.” Your name sounds so soothing from his mouth; you never thought your name was special but hearing it from him makes it feel that way. “Hi, Takashi.”

He rubs the nape of his neck, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I’m not used to hearing you say my first name yet.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, not at all. I just…I think I like it a little too much,” he admits. 

You reach for his hand, brushing your fingers gently along his knuckles. When Luna and Mana come running towards the entrance, you immediately retract from him, embarrassed. “Ms. Hana!” they cheer, hugging you tightly around the waist. 

You pat their heads. “Hi! I missed you two!”

They peer up at you, beaming. “We missed you so much!” 

“What did Taka do to you, huh? Should we beat him up?” Luna offers, shooting a glare at her brother.

“No, no, no! He didn’t do anything wrong, I promise,” you assure them. 

Takashi snorts, playfully rolling his eyes. “Like you even stand a chance.”

“We know exactly where to hit you, Taka!” Luna threatens. 

Mana chimes in. “Yeah, you taught us, remember?!”

You grin at him, brow raised. “What are you teaching them?”

“Self-defense, of course,” he replies, smirking. “In case some idiots try to mess with them.”

A woman with the same downturned lavender eyes appears from the kitchen, a warm smile on her face. The resemblance is uncanny; this is definitely Takashi’s mother. She’s as beautiful as you imagined her to be and you’re immediately flustered under her gaze. You bow to her, the kiddos still latched to your legs. “Good morning, Ms. Mitsuya. Thank you for having me.”

“Of course. You’re welcome anytime. I’ve heard so much about your from my children, so I’m so happy I finally get to meet you. The food is ready, so if you’d like, we can start eating.”

The five of you gather around the table, Takashi taking the seat beside you, his knee touching yours as you sit cross-legged on the cushion. The spread is fantastic: fluffy pancakes stacked neatly one-by-one, pillowy golden tamago topped with strips of seaweed, bowls of strawberries and other fruit to top it all off. Luna and Mana help themselves to a pile of pancakes, drizzling a generous amount of syrup before they take a big bite. Takashi serves you, giving you a little bit of everything to try. His mother watches the two of you, a small grin on her face. 

You chat casually, Ms. Mitsuya asking the typically questions: how’s school, what your family does for work, what you plan to study in university. “I’m going to major in education. I want to become a teacher,” you inform her.

“So you will follow in your father’s footsteps. How wonderful,” she comments. “Mitsuya, maybe you should consider doing that, too.”

You face him, nodding. “You’d be a great teacher!” 

He shrugs, stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I think I’d rather keep my major to business. If I ever become a designer, I might want to open my own shop, you know?”

His mom leans forward, a serious expression on her face now. “Do you think you’ll really follow through with it, Takashi? I know how committed you are to Toman, but maybe it’s time to move on from it. I don’t want you to put your dreams on the backburner for this little gang of yours.”

“Why can’t I do both? I’m not just going to abandon my friends, Mom. And I’m not going to abandon my dreams, either. I can do them both,” He avoids her gaze, staring down at his almost empty plate of food. You rest your hand on his knee, squeezing it, wanting to show your support for him. If he’s confident that he can balance both obligations at the same time, then you believe in him too. 

He smiles at you, entwining his fingers with yours. “I have another announcement to make. Hana and I are dating.” Much to your shock, he holds your hands up, showcasing this display of affection. 

Luna and Mana squeal, applauding enthusiastically. “Yay!”

You anticipate his mother’s reaction and breathe a sigh of relief when you notice her serious demeanor relax, a grin spreading across her face at the news. “Congratulations. I’m very happy to hear that.”

He grips you tighter, looking at her. “Mom, I know you think I have a lot to deal with, but I can do this. When have I ever let you down?”

She shakes her head. “You never have.”

“So, do I have your support? Do we have your support?”

She smiles. “Of course. You always have, and you always will.”

While the abrupt announcement has you shaken at first, you can’t help being elated at how well this is already going. With his mother’s approval, this only leaves your parents to consult with next, which might prove a bit more difficult than this. However, with Takashi by your side, you’re confident you can convince them to trust in this new relationship of yours. Especially with all the wonderful merits your boyfriend brings to the table. 

After breakfast, you play with this sisters in the living room while mother and son wash the dishes in the kitchen. When Takashi excuses himself to use the bathroom, you take this chance to speak to her in private, if only for a brief moment. Standing next to her at the sink, a clean dish towel in hand, you offer to dry the dishes, which she gladly accepts. “Ms. Mitsuya. I just want to thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

“Like I said, you’re always welcome here.” She glances at the hallway, checking on Takashi, who remains in the bathroom. In a lower, hushed tone, she adds, “I just hope that you can push Takashi in the right direction.”

Confused, you ask, “What do you mean?”

She sighs, scrubbing the last bowl with the sponge. “I don’t want him to be in Toman for the rest of his life. I’m not sure if you know this, but back in middle school, he got into this really big fight. He was beaten to nearly an inch of his life, all for the sake of his friend, Hakkai. I’m scared that if this continues any further, there will be a time he’ll put his life on the line and won’t be able to get back on his feet. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, so maybe you can steer him to where he needs to go.”

It’s never crossed your mind what hardships Takashi has had to overcome in his past. Sure, there are rumors and idle gossip about him floating amongst your classmates, but you never paid it any mind, wanting to get to know him for yourself. Hearing this from his own mother is concerning, and with her subtle plea for you to guide him away from Toman, you’re not sure if you’re qualified to do that. It doesn’t seem like your place to interfere with his life. All you can do is support in whatever decisions he makes, right?

Your boyfriend returns before you can respond to her, standing beside you to help dry the remaining dishes. Ms. Mitsuya slides her gloves off, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “I need to run to the store to get a few groceries. I’ll take the girls with me so they can pick out some snacks. Will you be okay here, Taka?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Hana, it was so nice to finally meet you. I’ll see you again soon, okay?” She wraps her arms around you in a snug embrace. 

“Yes, thank you for breakfast, Ms. Mitsuya,” you say, squeezing her back. You hug Luna and Mana goodbye before they leave hand-and-hand with their mother, leaving you and Takashi alone.

You turn to face him, stepping closer. “I guess I should head home soon.”

He closes the distance even further, leaning towards you, his hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

You grin at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Thank you for inviting me. This was really fun.”

He slides his hands around your waist, pulling you closer, nuzzling his nose to yours. “It was. Thank you for coming.”

Your lips meet in a delicate kiss, sweet and soft just as you imagined it’d be. Warmth fills your chest and you’re almost breathless when you part, his forehead pressed to yours, smiling. “Do you really have to go?”

You giggle, giving him a peck on the cheek before you pull away. “I think I should.”  

He watches you from the doorway as you make your way outside, twirling in your dress once more to wave goodbye. You stroll through the neighborhood in a daze, lips tingling, body buzzing with excitement, taking your time to get home. 

Ms. Mitsuya’s request still lingers in your mind as you enter your house, humming a happy tune with your mom and dad eyeing you suspiciously. Then, there’s your parents, of course, who you’ll need to talk to soon. There may be obstacles to face, but you’re confident that you and Takashi can persevere, together. All that matters in this moment is that the two of you are happy. And there is nothing standing in your way to stop that. 

[mendes-bae]

A fair exchange – part one

series masterlist ; prologue ; part two

Part one summary: Princess Velarys returned from her journey to Dorne as a beautiful young woman and she meets a handsome lord, Aemond gets jealous.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x (F) Targaryen!reader

Warning: none in this chapter.

Author's note: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! this is my first time writing a fic in English, so beforehand, i'm sorry 👀

Lord Lyon Tyrell does not exist, he was created with the only purpose of giving background to the story and its characters❗

All the rights belong to the showrunners of HOTD and George R.R Martin, author of Fire and blood & Song of ice and fire series‼️

Word count: 1115

When Otto Hightower came up with the idea of marrying little Aegon to his older sister, the king knew immediately that it was a terrible idea. Instead, he thought that Velarys was a better choice, as they were closer in age.

However, when Helaena was born, the hand of the king suggested that she should be his wife instead of Velarys. Viserys promised that if he had a son again, he would marry his second daughter.

The princess just turned six when Aemond was born. She and her sister entered the queen's chambers and saw her father rocking a sleeping baby. The princesses approached them and her father crouched down to be level with his youngest daughter.

"Velarys, this is Aemond. He will be your husband one day" her father said, smiling at the girl.

Velarys might be young, but she understood the meaning of duty, so she nodded and regarded her future husband fondly.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

At the age of seventeen, Velarys returned of her journey from Dorne, where she was a ward of Qoren Martell, Prince Regent of Sunspear, as part of her father's plan to extend his rule to the south of the realm, since she could not take any of the prince's sons as a husband.

When the princess returned, she has become a beautiful young woman, many young lords (and some not so young), wanted to court her, but the princess did not want to delude anyone, because she knew that the day Aemond fulfilled his seventeenth name day they would marry. However, the princess was someone curious and it killed her to know what was waiting for her on the wedding night, because the other ladies of the court did not talk about anything other than that.

She wouldn't dare to disgrace herself, but she wanted to feel what other women of her age were experiencing with their partners. So, when she came across Lyon Tyrell, a young lord who wouldn't stop looking at her every time they met in a room, she tried to act as casual as she could and started talking to him.

They had established a very close relationship, Lyon would inherit Highgarden when his father die and without shame he had invited her as long as she wanted to stay in the great house that his family owned.

They used to walk through the palace gardens and talk about whatever came to their minds, they had so much in common and for a moment Velarys wished that he was her betrothed, that he would take her to Highgarden and make her the mother of his children.

When she least expect it, she was leaning against a concrete column with Lord Lyon's hands on her waist and her lips against his. The princess's hands traveled over Lyon's toned shoulders and his curly brown hair.

Lyon was giving Velarys her first kiss, she didn't remember feeling so blissful before.

"Take off your hands of my betrothed," a voice said, startling the two secret lovers.

Lord Lyon stopped kissing the princess and turned quickly.

At the entrance to the secret garden was his little brother, with his small sword forged especially for him by the palace blacksmith at his waist. He had his hands on his hips and his brow was furrowed. He clearly was upset.

“Prince Aemond, I…”

"Get the hell out of here now if you don't want to lose your hands."

Velarys didn't know what to say, she was totally surprised by the boy's reaction.

Lord Lyon turned away in embarrassment and gave the princess a look that reflected regret. When she dodged her eleven year old half brother she didn't dare to look at him, she just adjusted the collar of her dress and looked for the nearest exit.

The princess still tried to understand what just happened.

Velarys glared at Aemond, but she knew she was in no position to demand anything of him. She cursed her father for betrothing her to a child, even though a part of her understood that it was her duty to follow the Targaryen bloodline.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys had not been present when the incident with Rhaenyra's children and Aemond happened. She felt guilty because of it, so after seeing how his sister and nephews were, she went to the castle's kitchen to prepare a tonic for the injured young prince.

She walked to the tower where Aemond's room was in, carefully to not spill the drink.

She took a deep breath when she reached the door and silently entered into the room to avoid disturbance. A maid saw her, bowed slightly, and left the chambers.

Aemond was awake and motionless in his bed, bands covering half of his face, but she could see that his features show pain.

"Hello" said the princess taking a seat next to his bed "I brought you poppy milk with a little sugar, I heard the cook saying that this is how you like it"

Aemond glanced at her with his undamaged eye and took the glass her sister handed him.

"Thank you" he said in a whisper.

"How you feel?" she asked putting her hands on her lap.

"Your sister's son gouged out my eye, how do you think I feel?" he snapped back.

Velarys cursed herself for that silly question.

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to be nice" she apologized, looking at her delicate hands.

"Why did you come?" Aemond tried to change the subject of the conversation because he felt sorry for yelling at her.

"I just wanted to make you some company, I thought maybe you weren't going to be able to sleep"

"Don't you not want to break our engagement?"

Velarys looked up in astonishment.

"Why would i do such a thing?

Aemond looked at her sister in disbelief.

"Lord Lyon Tyrell is not disfigured, he has a beautiful face"

The princess sighed heavily.

"I never apologized for that" she said ruefully.

"Why would you?"

"Because it was wrong"

There was a silence that enveloped both of them, then Velarys tried to explain why she did what she did.

"I just wanted to experience what the other Ladies of the court commented, i wanted to know what it felt like"

Aemond tried to understand.

"You want a man not a boy"

The princess didn't know what to answer.

"I will be a man one day, Velarys"

Velarys smiled at that fact.

"I have no doubt that you will be a great man, Aemond"

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"I promise you, my prince, that from today on you will have my complete devotion" she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Sweet dreams"

Aemond watched her go and promised himself that he would be the man Velarys deserved.

Part two

Taglist

@mynameisbaby9 @princessmiaelicia

@sustisama @daddysfavoritesexkitten

[originalgenshinscenarios]

Monthly special: Variable Barricade crossover!

I'm finally done with it! For now it doesn't differ much from the game, really I was rewriting the scenes more than anything but I'm glad it's finally done. It might be weird for now but honestly I just can't wait to get to write the romance!

Taglist: @audre-falrose

If you want to join the taglist just send an ask or dm me!

Reader here is female and has established background.

Cw: Age gap (Reader is 18 and the ladies are ages 20-24)

Next chapter =>

A young woman from a wealthy family always seeks a spouse who is of an equal status or preferably higher. At least that's what you always liked to believe…

As the only heir of the L/N family, you had your fair share of responsibilities. Marriage just happened to be on the higher priority list. It was expected of you. You had to pick yourself a man or allow your family to pick him for you.

It was a lot to agree to, given you never had any interest in men. Oh how you remember those meetings with businessmen who tried to match you with their sons. While not all of them were that bad it didn't change the fact that you ever only saw yourself beside a woman.

But you can't have everything in this world, so you've accepted the fact that your love life might never be fulfilling to you.

… but you were never so clueless about the upcoming storm.

Part one: chapter 1- Engagement at the first sight.

"Good morning miss Y/N" your maid greeted you with a practiced smile.

"Good morning"

"I've prepared your bag for today, is there anything else you require?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you" taking your bag you realized that it's slightly heavier than normal, but it's likely due to the extra materials you had prepared for the start of the semester. As a soon to be heir you've attended a prestigious school, it almost feels weird how close you are to graduation- where all of your actual responsibilities will begin.

Before your mind drifted away fully you've heard a familiar voice "Good morning my lady, I trust you're ready for school? You still have a few more minutes before we have to go" turning around you saw Thoma. He was one of many servants, but he was unlike all of them. He was your true ally… but even if you hold him in such high regard he had recently abandoned you as soon as your vacation had started. Granted his trip was purely to perfect his skills as a butler, but he still decided to hide his information from you until the very moment of his departure. So naturally you were mad at him, while being happy to see him at the same time.

"Good morning to you too Thoma" you looked at him, more glared almost like you wanted to tell him that he should've come to greet you earlier and that you were still mad about what he had hidden from you. He of course immediately caught on.

"I'm not sure how many times must I apologize to you miss, but I only wish for you to understand that-"

"Yes, I'm aware that grandfather had arranged it" you cut him off, as you heard this explanation before on more than one occasion. You definitely could see that villain plot something just to inconvenience you- but that's just how your grandfather was. Always ready to make your life ever so harder.

"I'm quite flattered that you missed me so much, but can we please move past it?" of course he was right about you missing him but all you could say was "It's not about me missing or not missing you, it's how you abandoned your duties without notice" although your words were harsh Thoma could see right through you, he always did but he didn't have a habit of arguing with you about your intentions "I see, in that case I stand corrected" although his smile was polite you could feel the smugness behind it. Almost like he was saying "we both know you're lying" but not in a very malicious way.

He knew that you felt hurt, betrayed even but there was nothing he could do when it was your grandfather's orders. It would be nice if someone took your feelings over orders though “No matter what my reasons are, I’m sure you agree that you ought to make it up to me” you said as your mood got a little brighter.

"Naturally, I don't intend to leave like that again so it shouldn't be a problem" he affirmed before continuing "We should get moving now, you wouldn't want to be late now would you?" there was no room for a disagreement from you so the two of you left your family estate.

-

After getting in the car there was only silence. The atmosphere wasn't tense at all, yet you felt like something big was going to happen today. Thoma had avoided your gaze which made you wonder if he wasn't hiding anything from you again. Last time when he had that trip planned he also tried to avoid looking at you, so you became a little suspicious "Thoma?" you got his attention "Yes my lady?"

"Do we have anything scheduled for today? I was hoping to go out with Ayaka" you knew asking directly was pointless but you made sure to emphasize "we", it was so he knew that you planned to take him with you like any other time.

"I'm afraid today won't work, master L/N wanted to speak with you today. My apologies for not mentioning it sooner, but I thought it'd save you some stress while at school" he sighed as you knew that he felt bad for you. You froze in place as you thought about having to deal with that old man "Do you have any idea what that might be about?" you asked, trying to hide your distaste "I do, but I was asked to not mention it to you" he said equally disappointed. Of course nobody had to know if he told you right here and there, but knowing what he knew he definitely didn't want to be the one to break it to you.

You sighed and before you knew it you were at the academy. It was an all girls school, where everyone comes from rich and influential families. You politely exchanged greetings to each girl you've passed. You didn't know them all but you knew better than to ignore them.

"Good morning Y/N" finally you were greeted by a familiar face "Good morning to you too Ayaka"

"You seem worried, is something on your mind?"

"I'll have to wonder all day what my grandfather is plotting" you sighed heavily. To give you some comfort Ayaka placed her hand on your shoulder "I'm sure you'll be alright. I don't think there's anything he can say that you can't handle"

"Let's just hope you're right…" it's not that you had no faith in yourself. It's more that it's him you're dealing with.

"You know, your grandfather isn't such a villain. From the times I've spoken to him nothing seems to make him out half as evil as you make him out to be" you heard that from more than one person whenever they know what you think of him. You thought if anyone- Ayaka would be different.

"Perhaps because he meets levels of basic decency with guests?" it was but a common sense to not disrespect members of the Kamisato family.

"How about Thoma? How does your grandfather treat him?" she asked, but she looked like she already knew the answer.

You on the other hand weren't exactly sure "You'd have to ask him yourself" to Ayaka you aren't a perfect liar, so she'd easily see through all of that. So making up an answer wouldn't do you any good.

"Well, at least they have one in common" she smiled and all you could do is look at her confused.

"And what could that be? How can a rude old man be compared to someone like Thoma?"

"Both of them certainly care much about your well being. You may not believe it but each time I chat with your grandfather he'd talk about you. And not in a way you'd assume"

"Oh really? I'd have to hear it to believe it"

"Of course he has a habit of throwing the word ''foolish'' pretty often. But besides that little detail I think anyone can agree that he doesn't mean any harm to you. Honestly I envy how casually you can speak to him"

"I wouldn't call arguments ''casual speech''"

"I suppose we just have different view on the matter" she looks away and when things were getting a little awkward she said "Regardless, I think you shouldn't worry so much about what he has to say"

-

You stood up to each challenge the universe had in stock for you for today. It allowed you to feel more confident about today's meeting. But as the day wasn't over so were your challenges.

There was a big commotion outside "What's going on over there?" you wondered "I have no idea" Ayaka looked just as confused as you "Nobody does. All we know is that there are four women by the gate, they all look so classy! I wonder what they are looking for" a student joined your conversation.

No matter what their business was, you had to go back home so you went towards the gate. You saw the ladies and they seem to have their eyes on you. When you were close enough to approach they all blocked your path. Before you could ask them what's going on they all took out roses and all of them said "Marry me" at the same time.

"Did you hear that?" "Did they say marry?" "I didn't know L/N had such tastes…" and other whispers could be heard from the students who all watched the situation unfold.

You didn't know what to say- but then again you weren't proposed to a bunch of gorgeous women on a daily basis. After taking a moment you were able to respond "Is this some kind of a joke… or a uh… misunderstanding maybe? Surely you all didn't just propose to me" you tried to be as calm as you could get.

"My, my the old guy was right- your reaction would be priceless indeed" one of them said, she had light pink hair the rose she was holding had almost the same color.

"To think you'd be so cold about the rejection, I can't let that slide. I'll have my vengeance" the one that had threatened you had beautiful golden eyes the rose she held was a strong shade of red.

"Although I should feel relieved at my rival dropping her chances this early, I insist that you'll stop yourself from making such threats miss Eula" another one spoke up. She was dressed the most formally among the group and her rose was white and elegant much like herself.

"You're making a scene here, the poor girl must be so confused" the last one finally spoke. She had a mysterious aura around her much like a dark purple rose she was holding. Although it was nice that she took your feelings into consideration you still had no idea what was happening.

You looked around trying to notice some hidden cameras or something that'd indicate that what's happening to you is just some sick joke. Or at least you were hoping to see Thoma- who could get you out of here.

“What are you looking for? If you think it’s some prank you’re mistaken my dear, everything you see here is very much real” the first one spoke up again. Her speaking so bluntly helped you adjust to the reality, you definitely can handle such forward strangers “May I ask who are you ladies exactly? Could you please tell me how you know me and what’s the meaning behind your sudden proposal? Do you even have permission to be here in the first place?” you said as you were surprised nobody reacted to strangers blocking the gate without any problems from the security.

"Alright then let's start with a simple introduction" the woman who earlier tried to put herself in your shoes spoke but before anyone could follow that you heard "I believe that won't be necessary" turning around you saw Thoma who continued "There will be plenty of time for that later. Miss Y/N, we must get going" he turned to the women "As for you, we'll meet at our arranged spot" he definitely knew what was going on. But before you made yourself into any bigger fool you waited until you got into a car.

"Before you lash out on me I told Master that it was a terrible idea" he said equally as annoyed as you were "I can't believe it! He really went through that knowing how you'd react" that was surprising, you don't usually see Thoma snap like this. He cleared his throat "But I suppose he'll explain everything to you once we get back to the estate" with that you stayed quiet. You were just speechless. Not only because of what happened but also because of how Thoma handled it. You don't remember seeing him this angry before.

-

Upon your arrival the silence still wasn't broken. You went ahead to meet with your grandfather, with each step you knew that whatever he had planned you're not going to like what you're about to hear.

"Y/N it's been a while" he said almost like he was proud of his little plan.

"It wasn't long enough" you said coldly.

"Haha! Wanted more time to miss me?"

"Indeed I did, perhaps that way I'd be able to forget how exhausting it is to talk to you" although it's annoying sometimes talking to your grandfather has proven to be a good practice for when someone tries to get on your nerves, at least it's easier to react without losing yourself.

But your sarcastic attacks have ended and with it silence filled the room. You felt tense and you had waited for him to explain himself but losing your temper and focus now will only lead to his victory. You can't possibly allow that "Well then, what was the reason for you to see me?"

"Didn't you figure it out already? I want you to tell me what do you think of the four women I chose for you" blunt as always. He always has to hit you with such a lack of tact. His voice was impatient but you were only surprised to hear that he was the one who chose your suitors.

"Excuse me…?" you panicked as you connected the dots. He knew. He knew without you ever telling him.

"I trust they were all to your liking? I'm sure you at least agree that they are beautiful indeed" his smug smile knew no bounds.

"Just wait a moment! What was the reason for you choosing women as my possible marriage candidates!?" this definitely was a joke on his part, a way to taunt you. Perhaps he set that up as a reminder that he had chosen for you and you had no say in the matter, you were only allowed a choice. The first wave was just a prank and the actual candidates might be some guys. That must be it!

"Did I read the signs wrong? Do you want me to match you with men instead?" this threw your possible theory out of the window.

"Yes!... I mean… not exactly… Just think what scandals might arise from that!" although you were happy about not being matched with men, you were still bothered by the entire situation so maybe if you bring it up it'll save you some time. That way you may be able to find someone on your own.

"Oh please we're not in the times where such things matter anymore. I thought I was supposed to be the old fashioned one" the way he said it made your blood boil. He never could take your concerns seriously now could he?

"Alright, I see your point… how long did you know?" you wanted to know how obvious you were. Perhaps he was more observant and caring than you thought. After all, he did you a huge favor by finding those ladies.

"I'd say quite a lot. I thought I was doing you a favor by sending you to an all girls school, but of course you'd miss an occasion like that. You could find yourself quite a bride but since you took your sweet time I had to step in" to say it made you mad is saying little.

"What do you mean by that? WHO asked something like that of you!? I certainly didn't. It's far too early for me!" you lost it. Everything felt so scary since your future is about to be decided at this very moment. All your grandfather did was sigh "I thought you already were aware that for you finding a suitable spouse is important"

"I do but I believe I have the right to make that choice on my own at my own time!" at least that's what you were told.

"And how would you go about it? By refusing to speak to anyone who isn't a business associate like you always do?" although you didn't want to agree, he was right about your total lack of social skills. As you didn't respond to his question he continued "Look, you don't have to make this choice right now. You'll have plenty of time to get accustomed to them and you can have a lot of time before you come to your final choice. Not only that if you wish to have someone else as your possible suitor just say the word and it'll be arranged" he sounded much less condescending now but after that he stood up to leave "Whatever you do the choice is yours to make"

You stayed in the room in silence, thinking over everything you discussed. Your train of thought however was stopped by Thoma who just entered “So… How did it go?” he was awfully casual but you didn’t mind it at that moment. You needed that, honestly if he asked you in some trained butler way or whatever you'd honestly lose it "You can probably imagine… not very well. I need to rest" you just wanted to go to your room and let this day be over with just so you could think it through. But you'd seen the awkward look on his face and you knew that you won't be done with today's disappointments “I’m afraid the surprises aren’t over yet for you my lady, from this day forward you won’t be living here”

"... What?" you weren't ready for something like that. You didn't even have the energy to say anything more.

"A vacation home is prepared where you'll live with the suitors" with that you recall him mentioning arranged spot. It made you realize that perhaps you knew all along what will happen next but you were just hoping to deny it…

-

You stood in front of a vacation home. Still in shock you had no clue what to say, you weren't here before so Thoma started to tell you about it. He sounded like he wanted to calm you down "The building has three floors. The first one is a common area, second is your suitors' rooms, where the third floor can only be accessed by us" it didn't help much but knowing you'll have some privacy was making the situation from totally unbearable to slightly less totally unbearable "I know it's tough but you must understand that escaping reality will not solve the issue"

"I know that… it's just…" you were too frustrated to find the words.

"If anything happens you know you can talk to me. I'll make sure you'll feel safe so should any of those women try anything I'll see to it that they'll be gone" he reassured you "Now, follow me" inviting you to follow him was like a gentle push into the unknown, then again you won't be alone at any point. So taking a deep breath you go inside.

"Before… uhm… I go to them… can I at least go to my room and change?" you found excuse with your uniform. Thoma smiled at you but before he said anything you heard footsteps.

"Greetings, I heard the door open so I thought it'd be nice to say hi" the girl standing in front of you had dark hair, if you remember correctly it was the one holding the purple rose. Regardless you were still a little stressed "Seems I had a bad timing… sorry about that. I'll let the others know and we'll wait for you okay?" she waited for your response but all you could do was nod. It seems like she didn't need anything more. After she left you asked Thoma to show you to your room where you got ready to see your suitors.

-

"Look who's finally here" the woman with pink hair said with a teasing voice.

"It took a while but it sure was worth the wait. After all seeing such a gem is a treat" although all of the ladies changed that one still remained in rather elegant and formal clothing.

"At least you didn't run away this time" the one who had threatened you before seemed annoyed. But such remarks made you feel the same. It wasn't that you ran away, you were forced to leave! But who is she to judge you anyways?

"It's good to see you aren't as nervous" the one who greeted you by the door smiled but her bringing that up caused the first lady to giggle "Oh that wasn't fair how you got to get to greet Y/N in our place. I definitely would love to see the look on her face now that you mention it"

"What can I say, I was the first one to get there on time"

"It was more that you left without any of us noticing" it seemed like an argument was going to burst out at any moment.

"Let's get to introductions, shall we?" Thoma finally spoke up.

"I'm Eula, you better not forget it" she didn't waste a moment to introduce herself. Considering her behavior towards you so far you wonder what she is doing here in the first place.

"Miko, but soon you'll get the privilege to call me your wife" you finally had a name to connect to that smug smile she displayed so far. She could see that her remark wasn't exactly serious but you could tell that she was here to "win".

"My name is Ningguang. I hope our odd circumstances won't make it hard for you to talk to me" she, just like Miko looked like she was here to "win" but her behavior towards you was different. She was less cocky but not any less confident.

"You can call me Yelan, you'll have to wait to learn more about me later though" from the four she seemed the most concerned about your situation. At the same time she wasn't open about herself at all. Perhaps it was a strategy for you to get interested in her.

But listening to all those introductions it felt awfully weird how all of them were so casual about the whole situation. They also seemed rather close even though they aren't living together for long.

"I hope you don't mind me asking but have you always been friends?"

"Not at all, but after living for a month you could say we got close. Still having Thoma around did make things easier" Yelan said and you immediately glared at Thoma.

"So you lied to me after all!" you didn't take even a second to call him out.

"I'm truly sorry but I couldn't-!"

"Now dear, no need to start an argument here. I'm sure you can tell he had no choice in the matter" Miko was right. But it didn't take away your shock- yet she continued "Let's just calm down okay? I know you're confused but all of us need to adjust to the situation. Of course our circumstances aren't the same but I say we make the best of it"

"Exactly, I'm sure you will pleasantly surprised once you get to know us" Yelan added

"If any of them will be too pushy I'll make sure to kick them out for you" Eula said, although Thoma said just the same thing earlier.

"The only person being pushy right now is you. Give her a breathing room, would you?" although Ningguang was talking to Eula, she was looking at you.

Now that you think of it all of them are looking at you. Perhaps they think that what they've said gained them some points in some made up game where you react positively to their words. You just stood there dazed as you realized that you are now but a prize to be won by these women.

-

After that conversation you went back to your room. Your brain jumps from one topic to another. You never felt this lost. You looked at your phone and remembered that there is one person you can rely on right now. Unlike Thoma, Ayaka won't have any classified information and she surely will listen to you. As you were about to call her you heard a knock on your door "My lady?" the only one who could be there was Thoma. You were still mad at him and you thought it'd be a good time to ignore him. Either that or you'd give him a piece of your mind. After all, your previous argument was cut short. So after thinking of the pros and cons of letting him in- you open the door.

Of course knowing him he didn't come empty handed, he had a tray with tea and your favorite snacks. With an apologetic smile you knew he was trying, but he needed to try more than that to make you forgive him.

"Don't I deserve an explanation first? Or do you take me as some sort of child who will trade her forgiveness for just a bunch of sweets?" you cross your arms. As you stared at him though you felt a little guilty for being so harsh on him.

"Are you really that mad at me…?" he was hurt, but so were you.

"Do you think I have no reason to?" you knew he didn't think that. But by underestimating how betrayed you felt he deserved your cold treatment.

"We both know I'd be lying if I said no…"

"So, are you going to make any excuses?"

"Well, Miss Yae was correct when she said I had no say in the matter. As a mere butler I can't do a lot"

"I know that" it was the truth after all. Perhaps you got used to Thoma always putting you first so much that when he took your grandfather's orders over your feelings you felt surprised. Even though it was normal and very much expected of him as a butler of L/N family… but not expected as your ally "Couldn't you at least warn me? Or not so subtly hint at what's going to happen?"

"I really wanted to, but if I did then they'd fire me" he said it so calmly, it made it clear that to him that choice wasn't hard at all "I wasn't even the one who had to come up with the excuses, but I must admit that today I had to improvise a little. Which didn't let me feel any less guilty I'll have you know" he sighed "But when they threatened my ability to work with you I knew there was no other option"

"To think they'd go that far…" and all that for what? A moment of surprise? Or perhaps there were many reasons you yet have to discover. Suddenly your anger went away from him and went towards your family who'd arrange such a thing.

"No matter what my situation was, what I did harmed you. So as a friend I want to apologize" you really liked the sound of that. After so many years you'd feel odd if your relationship had only the professional side of things. Still, such a statement out of nowhere caught you off guard.

"Uhm… As a friend, I accept your apology" you paused "But now that you don't have to hide anything anymore… care to tell me why now I was assigned suitors?"

"It definitely wasn't out of nowhere if that's what you're thinking. Recently a lot of men showed interest in you. The amount of letters only grew with each month over the past year. Usually what you got to see was filtered to say the least"

"I see, but I still don't understand why that should mean that I'll have suitors arranged right away"

"You see… uh how should I put this… It's more about pressure coming from your extended family"

"Oh. So that's why huh?" of course your "lovely" relatives are behind such a thing.

"That's right, I don't think it's in my place to mention it but they said they rather proceed with caution when it comes to leaving you to your own"

"I see, so they're just doing everything they can to make sure I can't elope" it wasn't unimaginable for them to think you'd do that. But it was your father who didn't accept his fate as an heir. You on the other hand were aware of what you're getting yourself into since day one "It's a shame that they still don't trust me. I know what my duties are"

"It's not all of them who think so I'll have you know, just a loud bunch who insisted on it" he sighed "But they were loud enough for Master to do something about it"

"... Wait! Doesn't that mean…" if these ladies were accepted by both your relatives and grandfather then surely they'd be qualified enough. Most certainly they had some character so you wouldn't be surprised to learn that they're high class "Hm… I should've guessed that highly born women would be slightly different from my previous possible suitors. I'll have to make sure to treat them well"

"Oh…" he suddenly looked nervous and avoided eye contact.

"Thoma… what is it?"

"It's a bit hard to describe-"

"Thoma. You weren't supposed to hide things regarding my suitors anymore"

"I think it's better if you see it for yourself, give me a moment. I'll be right back" this definitely didn't sound good. You waited for Thoma to come back and in the meantime you became increasingly nervous. When he knocked again at your door you opened it right away.

"These are their background reports…"

Hesitantly you took the documents. Confused as to why it'd be a problem you started looking through them. You couldn't believe what you were reading. This is either some kind of joke or maybe wrong documents perhaps?

"Thoma… these background reports…"

"Are true…"

"Just hold on it can't be! If that old man wanted to play a sick joke on me, this is the time you tell me so!"

"That's not it my lady"

You felt like you were about to lose it, you looked at the documents again. You read them through but there is one thing that caught your eye in each one.

"Yae Miko, age 24…kept woman" the last thing you wanted is to be matched with someone whose job is to get taken care of. But perhaps she has something else going for her.

"Ningguang, age 22… Can't keep a job?" you have no idea if it means she's continuously getting fired or is she dropping out "She's unemployed?"

"All of them are…" you could hear that he felt bad for you.

"Great" you said sarcastically.

"Yelan, age 23…Gambler" ah yes because there is nothing better but a gambler in a rich family.

"Eula, age 20…Disowned by the Lawrence family" Although she was the closest to your age not only was she associated with that family she got disowned by them probably for a reason.

"How can this all be!?"

"Calm down Y/N-"

"Don't you dare to tell me to calm down! This is unthinkable, unimaginable! I don't even know what else to say to that" you were losing it, but it's not like Thoma chose your suitors so you realized taking it out on him won't do any good "Sorry, I just need to be alone right now. I need to think this through"

"Of course… but if you need me just say the word" he left the room without saying anything else.

It was a true nightmare. You had no idea why fate had such a thing for you prepared. And more importantly… WHY your suitors were some random women who definitely didn't have the qualifications to be involved with your family!? They were just looking for an easy life... This definitely wasn't how you imagined your marriage to be arranged.

... To be continued...

[michinnyun]

Fashion Choices

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!Reader, Marc Spector x f!Reader

Summary: You've been giving Steven a hard time about his wardrobe lately. It's not that you don't like when he wears a collared shirt on top of another collared shirt, you just want him to try new things. Then him and Marc decide to tease you about it. Big mistake. Huge. // Chapter 1 is only with Steven. Chapter 2 will be for Marcy-Marc

Tags: Sharing Clothes × Lingerie × Teasing × Established Relationship × Pure Smut × Sub Steven Grant (Marvel) × If You Squint × Dom/sub Undertones × Masturbation × p in v × Enthusiastic Consent × Breeding Kink × No use of y/n × Woman on Top × for the majority of it lol × Multiple Orgasms × Unprotected Sex × Rough Sex

Words: 2.8k

Ao3 link

Steven has a lot of collared shirts. Like, a lot of them.

“You dress like a lesbian,” you tell him one day, laughing when you see that he's layered one of his button ups on top of another collared shirt.

He scoffs. “I can’t believe you just said that to me during Pride month.”

He manages to dodge the book thrown at his head, but he isn't able to dodge your questions after that.

“Why did I find another collared shirt in your bag?” you ask, showing him the reusable bag he'd brought to the shop earlier that day.

He pouts. “That’s for Marc.”

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s adorable. “Nice try. Marc almost exclusively wears crew necks.”

He doesn't meet your eyes. “Jake, then.”

“Jake dresses like a newsie in 1920’s New York.”

Steven groans. “Would you deny me my comforts, woman?” He pulls you into his lap, peppering kisses to your face that make you scream and laugh, trying to escape.

“I just want you all to try branching out!”

His eyes roll back into his head, Marc staring back at you now, intense as always. “Why would we want to do that?” he asks, pressing searing hot kisses into your neck.

The sudden shift in persona and mood makes you dizzy. You don't know if you'll ever get used to them doing that.

You gasp softly, grabbing onto the crinkly-soft fabric of Steven-Marc's starchy shirt.

“Marc,” you murmur, letting him trail a hand down your side. You haven't seen him in a while, and he’s clearly happy to see you, based on the way he's insistently pressing himself into you.

“Baby,” he mumbles back, licking a line up your neck to your earlobe, a white hot spike of arousal shooting down to your clit. You arch against him, letting him lift you and press you into the table, his hand riding up your shirt and teasing a nipple. You can feel how wet he’s making you, the way only your boys can. He laces your fingers together and kisses the back of your hand, ducks down to kiss your neck again-

Then, he stills. “Anyway, lots of work to do today, love. Better hop to it!”

Steven pulls away from you and grabs his stuff, leaving you stunned and frustratingly horny as he heads towards the door.

“W-wh-” you stutter.

“Don’t question my fashion choices!” he shouts, letting the door shut behind him. You narrow your eyes, huffing.

Oh, he’s in for it now. __

Your boys aren't coming over until later. It’s been two days since the Steven-Marc situation, and you won’t even let them sext you. The moment anything remotely sexual starts up, you shut it down. They’re getting restless. Steven especially. He’s always been particularly needy.

The boutique owner had been terribly nice when you'd explained your situation (minus the “my boyfriends’s’s are a superhero/Avatar/legendary warrior with multiple personality disorder” detail). You’d picked out the prettiest piece together, a delicate lace thing with more modest coverings for your private areas. Something that would drive Steven perfectly crazy.

“If I’ve done my job right, this won't survive the night,” she promised.

You’re slightly fidgety. You've never worn something this complicated before. Nothing for the express purpose of getting fucked.

It doesn't matter, really. Your boys can't resist you. That’s what's going to make this so much fun.

One of Steven’s many button ups is covering your lingerie, which had taken twenty minutes of cursing for you to put on. It’s a soft, purple shirt, your personal favorite. He’d been wearing it the first time you met.

You’re reading a book, or trying. You’ve been skimming the same page over and over in nervous anticipation ever since you got the text he’s almost at your flat.

He knocks on the door, and you answer in nothing but his shirt, your hair done in the way you know he loves. He always makes a comment when you wear it like this, so you made sure it was perfect before he came over.

He kind of just stares at you for a minute, taking you in. Then, something happens, something you've only seen a few times before. They start fighting over the body.

“I don’t- she clearly. This is- Marc. Steven. You-Why d-I- Jake, if you don't- Why can’t I, guys-”

He’s saying this all softly, eyes closed in concentration. You don't want to touch him. You don't want him to have a panic attack, and then have your attempt at revenge/seduction turn into something traumatic.

Finally, he settles, and Steven looks at you with wide, wet eyes.

“Is this- for me?” He swallows hard, looking at the way the fabric drapes over your body, just a little too big for you. You nod sweetly, leading him to bed.

He lies back at your insistence, staring up at you in awe as you straddle him, smiling teasingly.

His hand starts to slide up your thigh, but you swat at it.

“No touching,” your murmur, starting to unbutton yourself for him. He nods, swallowing again.

As the beginnings of your surprise are revealed, you realize he might not be the only one who has a problem with this no touching rule.

They’re fighting over the body again.

“If you’d just- Steven, look at her, I can’t- Stop.” Steven says firmly. You quirk an eyebrow.

“Everything alright in there?”

He nods, looking slightly miffed. “Just- you look really, really good, love. Really good. Don’t feel like sharing right now.”

You blush, then wiggle a little. Steven hisses, clenching his hands into fists. Fuck, he's already hard.

He whines when you finish unbuttoning the shirt, letting the fabric pool at your elbows, letting him drink his fill of your new outfit.

He’s slack jawed, mindlessly moving his hips against you. “Fuck,” he whimpers, letting the word trail off into a growl that ends deep in his throat.

His hands are getting fidgety, so you take the opportunity while he’s distracted to grab onto his wrists and pin them next to his head.

“You’re right Steven,” you purr. “I do actually like your shirts. Maybe I’ll wear them more often.”

He throws his head back, groaning. “I knew that's what this was bloody about, you little minx.”

You laugh, grinding down again bodily and making him gasp.

“That’s what you get for being a fucking tease. You can touch when I’m done with your punishment.”

If Steven’s eyes weren't so dark, you're sure you'd be able to see how his pupils are blown wide with lust. He looks ravenous, depraved. You haven't even kissed him.

“Yes,” he murmurs, even as he struggles against your grip.

You let him go, and hum happily when his hands stay in place.

You unbutton his pants, licking your lips as you pull out his cock, hard and leaking for you. You smear a pearl of precome weeping from the tip, relishing the sounds he makes.

You lean down, letting the crotch of your lingerie grind over his hard length. “You’re so mean to me sometimes, Steven. Just wanted to be a little mean back. Give you a taste of your own medicine.”

He whimpers. “Not trying to be mean. Just-just-”

“Just?” you ask, slowing down until he gasps and his hands twitch.

“Just wanted to prove a point,” he finishes lamely, arching his back so he can press up into you. You tsk at him, but allow it.

“Wanna take this off, pretty boy?” you ask, running your hands over the lace covering your plush breasts.

He nods frantically, craning his neck up so he can see a little better, get a little closer. You push him down with one hand, increasing the friction on your clit while you press a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Later. Good boys get to undress me,” you hum, grinding down and chasing the rush of him pressing against your most sensitive spot. His eyes flutter shut, finally surrendering to you.

“Steven,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth, traveling down his neck and sucking marks into his skin.

He grunts a response, too far gone to really answer you. You leave your tongue over the salt-heat of him, listening to his rattling breaths and stuttering heartbeat.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmur against his neck. “My good boy.”

His hips jerk violently against you, and you stop moving completely. He freezes.

“I’m sorry,” he says frantically, but it's too late.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. You spread your legs, hovering over him and moving your panties to the side so you can rub your clit.

Steven’s mouth hangs open, devastated yet unbelievably turned on.

“Now you get to watch me come,” you say, gathering some of the wetness leaking from his tip to soften the friction. “And you can't do anything about it.”

He whines, shutting his eyes closed and growling in frustration. You spread yourself wider, letting your legs rest on the tops of his thighs.

Steven loves making you come. With his mouth, his fingers, his cock. Masturbating in front of him is still hot, but it frustrates him more than anything that he’s not the one making you feel good. Little does he know, the sight of him all hot and bothered is usually what gets you there faster. Like right now.

You feel it starting to bubble up, a deliciously warm orgasm that you’ve been depriving yourself of for days since the shirt incident. It takes a little while, but you finally peak, your fingers bringing you to completion at the sight of Steven Grant, helpless and completely distraught underneath you.

You lean forward until you're burying your face in his neck again, your thigh muscles still contracting pleasantly.

Steven hesitates, his hands moving from where they're meant to be to gently hold your waist. You purr, nuzzling into him so he knows he has permission. You're much more agreeable now that you know he’s suffered sufficiently enough.

He kicks his pants off the rest of the way, still gentle, careful not to disturb you in your good mood. You move a little, unbuttoning his shirts until the smooth expanse of his chest is warm under your palm.

“We’re matching,” you murmur happily. He chuckles nervously, one hand moving to cup the lace covering your bottom.

“This for me?”

You nod. “Don’t question my fashion choices,” you say, nipping at his ear lobe.

“Of course not. Never,” he says, running a hand over your garter belt appreciatively.

He reaches behind to move your panties aside, dipping shaking fingers into the wetness you’ve made for him. “Fuck,” he whispers, practically throbbing against you.

“You can go ahead,” you tell him, yawning. “Want you to. Want you inside, Steven.”

“Fuck,” he says a little louder, grabbing his cock where it's trapped between your bodies and sliding it between your legs to bring it home.

He lets out a breath he's been holding in, and you bloom under his fingers, legs widening to accommodate his girth. You’ve had enough teasing, and it looks like Steven has too.

He fucks you at a brutal pace, whining and gasping into your hair while you press sloppy kisses into his jaw.

“So good,” you whisper, encouraging him. “So good. My Steven.”

“I- hah, love you. Fuck.” The easy glide of him inside you isn't enough to make you come again quite yet, but you give a valiant effort. You suck at the tender spot under his ear, the one you know drives him crazy, and his hips stutter.

“Pretty girl, wearing my clothes and putting on nice things. Don’t deserve you, do I? So good to me,” he murmurs into your ear, one arm holding you close while he uses his other hand to push down on your lower back, using you as his little cocksleeve.

“Steven,” you gasp, grinding down harder onto him until you feel blissfully over sensitive, the fabric of his shirts rubbing against your skin while he fucks you hard, the way he’s been waiting to for days.

He groans out your name before he bites down on your neck. You mewl, bearing down on him before you sit back so you can ride Steven properly. He hangs onto your thighs for dear life as you move in earnest, pulling off him fully before slamming back down onto the length of him.

He brings his hands up to cup at the intricate lace designs covering your breasts, snapping the strap of your bra before he thrusts into you so hard that you can feel him in your guts.

“Fuck, can’t get enough of this little pussy,” he says, watching himself disappear into your tight heat. He moves a hand down, pressing a thumb to your abused clit and making you black out a little.

“S-Steven,” you stutter, no longer able to conjure competent speech, not when he touches you like that.

“Yeah, you like it when I touch you? Should’ve let me earlier. Even if you were mad at me,” he rambles, rubbing tight circles that make pleasure travel up your spine.

“Wasn't mad,” you whine. “Just wanted r-revenge. And I-I-” You can’t think about anything other than Steven’s hands on you, bringing you to the precipice of another sorely needed orgasm.

“I know, love,” he coos. “You got what you wanted. Now let me get mine.”

Your head tips back a little before Steven pulls one of the cups of your bra down, sitting up and sucking a pert nipple into his mouth. Your chest is still criss-crossed by straps and covered in lace, and Steven is clearly frustrated by the extra covering which he had found so sexy earlier.

“Steven,” you say breathlessly. “Gonna come again, I-”

“It’s okay,” he mouths against your skin. “You can come. Come all over my cock, love. Wanna feel it.”

He flicks his tongue against your tight bud, and you’re overwhelmed by sensation. Just a little-

You reach your hand down to give your clit a little more attention, and finally your second orgasm of the night claims you.

You milk Steven, making him choke and moan against you as your head tilts back and you cry out into the empty apartment.

Then Steven does something that you didn’t expect. He rips your panties off of you.

“Steven,” you gasp, despite remembering what the boutique owner had said about your outfit not lasting the night. “Those were expensive.”

He flips you over, pulling out and rubbing his cock between your folds. “I'll buy you a new pair,” he says, melding his mouth to yours before he pushes in again.

If you thought he was giving it his all before, you were mistaken. Steven’s fucking you at a punishing, brutal pace, pulling at the straps of your lingerie until one by one they all snap off of you and you’re left bare in nothing but shredded lace and his button-up.

You whine, the result of two orgasms making Steven’s conquest an easy slide. Your eyes roll back into your head a little. He’s relentless, insatiable, biting the meat of your bottom lip and licking into your mouth, fucking you so well that you know you’re going to be thinking about it for weeks.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he stutters. “I’m never going to get enough of you. Fuck. Fuck. I-I’m gonna-”

“Come in me,” you beg. “Steven, Steven, come inside.”

He looks into your eyes. “You want me to come inside? Fill you up? B-breed you?”

You wrap your legs around his back and pull him closer into you, making the angle deeper. He groans, wet sloppy sounds accompanying his increasingly quickening thrusts.

“Come in me, Steven,” you kiss his cheek. “Come in me. Breed me. Please, please.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-”

He pulses inside you, coming hard like you've been daydreaming he would for the past few days. You kiss the side of his head while he buries his face into your shoulder. “Perfect,” you whisper. “Perfect boy.”

He whimpers, still not relenting in filling you. You’re a little surprised. This is the longest an orgasm has ever lasted for Steven. You must’ve taken a lot out of him.

When he’s finally finished, he lets out a big sigh. You rub his back, nuzzling into him and wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to stretch out the moment as much as you can.

“Will you leave me alone about my wardrobe now?” he says into your neck, slightly muffled. You laugh.

“Sure. Only if you promise to wear a t-shirt once in a while.”

He groans. “Deal.”

[meganwritesfanfics]

Clandestine Meeting (Joel Miller x Reader) Chapter 2

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Joel Miller x Reader

Joel's life has been filled with darkness and despair. For years it has felt as though his life had been drained of all color. He never dreamed that he would find anything to change that. That is until one day he finds a girl who becomes his rainbow.

Word Count: 1056

Rating M: For later chapter right now it's just a meet-cute.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Discussion of DV, nothing graphic, but talk about bruises.

These first two chapters are just going to be short little vignettes, I wanted to establish some groundwork with the characters before we start getting into the meat and potatoes of the story. Please show some love, would love to hear your thoughts. Thank you!!!

The next time Joel saw her was a few days later. And the minute his eyes saw her, his day instantly brightened. He couldn’t explain it, he didn’t under how one person could have such an effect on him. And yet there she was, a smile on her face as she walked down the street, her wagon of water behind her. 

The minute others began to catch sight of her, they began flocking to her cart, begging for water, and she greeted them all by name. She knew who everyone was, what their story was, how they had ended up in Boston. She took the time and effort to treat everyone like actual people, as if the world hadn’t ended, and life was normal. 

“She is an angel,” He had once heard and older woman call her and he couldn’t help but smile. Y/N was bringing humanity back in her own small ways, to a situation where it felt like ti had been lost forever. 

It was a nice moment until two F.E.D.R.A officers showed up causing the crowds to scatter and get back to their work. But Joel still stared at Y/N, watching indently as the officer grabbed her roughly by the arm. She quickly pushed back as she stood her ground against them. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see from her expression and her body language that she had a fire in her. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself. 

That didn’t stop the F.E.D.R.A officers from kicking her cart over sending the water jugs spilling all over the hot cement. Joel had to physically stop himself from running over and pummeling the two officers, but having spent time in F.E.D.R.A lockup, it wasn’t something he wanted to experience again, no matter how much his blood boiled. 

As soon as he saw that the officers had moved out of sight, he rushed to Y/N’s side as she knelt on the ground picking up her bottles and cups. 

“Thanks Joel,” She sighed as she smiled at him. Joel was surprised that she remembered his name.  

For a brief moment, Joel saw her smile fade, and he saw the sadness that was behind her eyes, and it made his blood boil even more thinking that someone as lowly as a F.E.D.R.A. officer could hurt her. 

“Does this happen often?” He asked, surprised at himself for even speaking up. 

“Unfortunely. Some of these F.E.D.R.A. officers are absolute dicks.” She said and Joel could help but let out a laugh hearing her cuss.

“I’m suprised they would mess with you, seeing as your husband is an officer as well.” 

As he said this, he watched as she froze, instinctively she began to play with her ring. “Oh I’m sure Will sent them. He hates that I do this. Says it embarrasses him.” 

“Sounds like your husband is kind of a dick.” And this time it was her turn to laugh. 

After they had finished getting her cart back in order, Joel didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to go back to work. When he was around Y/N things felt better, he felt better. 

“If anyone messes with you, you let me know ok. You come find me.” He said as he pointed to his apartment building. “I live there, third floor apartment 5, I think, numbers been missing for what looks like years.” 

Y/N chuckled slightly. “Ok Joel.” 

“Hey!” A loud voice boomed and Joel knew without looking it was the F.E.D.R.A. foreman. “Get back to work!” 

“You better go, I don’t want to get you into trouble,” Y/N said. 

Joel just nodded, as the thought of not seeing her for while again made him retreat back into himself. 

He turned to head back when suddenly she called after him again. 

“Wait,” She said as she scrambled through her bag before pulling something out palming it discreetly as she held her hand out to him. “Thank you for helping me.” 

Joel reached out, shaking her hand and secretly taking the object. 

“Anytime,” He responded as he quickly stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked away. He made sure he was out of view, before he pulled it out, shocked to find a small baggie of coffee, real coffee. 

It was almost a week before Joel saw Y/N again, but this time she wasn’t handing out anything. Instead she was walking, well behind dragged down the street by her husband, who had a rough grip on her arm. 

“Let me go!” She snapped, and Joel immediately began to take steps towards her. 

However the minute she caught Joel’s figure in her peripheral she turned to look at him, her eyes widening with fear as she watched him move closer. In an instant she stopped fighting, and instead wrapped her other arm around her husbands and quickend her step so she was walking with him instead of behind him. Her demineor immediately changed but her eyes still full of fear as they stayed locked with Joel’s. All she did was shake her head before she broke her gaze with Joel and looked ahead. With that Joel halted and watched them turn the corner and vanish from view. 

This wasn’t the first time Joel had suspected that Y/N’s husband maybe be hurting her. He had seen the bruises, or how she wore long sleeves even in the 90 degree heat. Or when she had shown up with a black eye, and would tell anyone who asked that she had fallen and hit her eye on the side of some furniture piece. But he didn’t know her well enough, hell he didn’t know her at all, how was he going to broach that subject. And yet, he still felt like he needed to protect her. He needed to find some way to get her help. And after that moment he saw her in the street, he told himself the next time he had the chance, he would talk to her about it. 

What he hadn’t anticipated was the next time he saw her, she would be on his doorstep covered in blood.

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[i-did-not-mean-to]

ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕟

The people have spoken in this poll.

Here is the Bonus chapter to my TSF (S)wiped out.

True to the spirit of the story, the title is a song title. (Honest Man by Ben Platt)

Words: 4.8 k (I've tried to make it worth your while)

Characters: Thorin x Bilbo

Warnings: Some internalised homophobia, some insecurity, a kiss

Bilbo looked up in surprise when Thorin ambled into the bar on a Thursday night, dressed to the nines, and holding a pitiful bouquet of daisies in his broad hands.

“Did one of the ladies convince you after all?” he asked and almost set the glass he was drying down beside the counter in his puzzlement; there was a sick, unhappy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t want to investigate.

It was but surprise, he tried to tell himself. He had been at the garden party, and he had seen the women completely forget about Thorin within half an hour of their arrival.

At least the first date was having a good time, drinking Dwalin under the table, while the sopping wet cat of a lady had been utterly engrossed in telling her whole life story to a very sympathetic looking Ori who had awkwardly patted her hand at regular intervals.

“She’ll get him to marry him before the day is over,” Bilbo had whispered.

Visibly surprised, Thorin had narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Better him than me, I’d say.”

“It’s not the crystal-peddling one, is it?” Bilbo now asked and shuddered at the thought of the woman who had been kicked out from the festivities after conning Kíli into buying a whole stock of utterly useless stones and oils.

“What?” Thorin blushed; he had not listened to a word Bilbo had said because he was so relieved to see a friendly face. “What about her? I’m sure she’s in jail or in an institution by now—ask me if I care.”

“Do you care?” Bilbo complied with a crooked grin.

“No, maybe the dragon lady can get her off lightly—why are we talking about my failed dates again? It’s done, it’s over—Dís had a funeral for my potential and we’ve all wept.” Thorin gave a short bark of laughter and gingerly put the flowers down on the counter in front of Bilbo.

“Either way, Bofur has invited the last one to an exposition on doilies,” he then explained slowly. “He was so thankful for the introduction that he…his cousin has a restaurant, did you know?”

Sniggering, Bilbo shook his head. He had been delighted to meet Thorin’s friends and family, but he was far from remembering everyone who had attended the garden party, let alone recall what they did for a living.

“So, I’ve got a reservation—very sought after, I’ll have you know—courtesy of Bofur…and I wanted to invite you.”

Picking up the same glass again and polishing exactly one hand width of the rim, Bilbo stared at Thorin in confusion. “Me?” he finally squeaked. “Why?”

“You’re the only good thing that has come out of this ordeal,” Thorin admitted sheepishly. “You had my back through the whole thing, and I wanted to show my…gratitude.” It was but half a lie, a euphemism really, he told himself encouragingly as he saw Bilbo’s face cycle through a multitude of contradicting feelings within a few seconds.

“Would it be too sad to invite your sister for dinner?” Bilbo quipped, but his voice was a little unsteady on the delivery of the snarky undertone.

“Oh, if I have to sit through another evening with a demanding, dissatisfied, disapproving female anytime soon, I’ll run mad,” Thorin groaned, “be she my sister or the currently reigning Miss Universe.”

“All right then,” Bilbo agreed, forcing his cheery nonchalance to the surface with all his might. “I reckon it cannot do me any harm to eat in another establishment for once. When is your reservation? I’ll see if I am free.”

“Whenever you are free,” Thorin replied just a little too fast and too fervently. “I’ve not settled a date yet—I wanted to check with you when you’d be available.”

Bilbo blushed furiously. It hit him like a ton of bricks that Thorin had not invited him because he had not found anybody else to go with him on a particular night—he had wanted Bilbo specifically to spend the evening with him in a fancy restaurant and had taken precautions in his planning of the outing to make it so.

Having watched Thorin jump through every imaginable flaming hoop in the name of being a good date, Bilbo of course knew how dedicated the other man was to these things, but he had never considered the possibility of ever being on the receiving end of such generosity and kindness himself.

“Tomorrow? I can find someone to man the fort for me—I’ve not taken time off in years, I think I deserve that,” Bilbo mused out loud.

“Tomorrow it is,” Thorin said, confident that he’d get a table for the next day. Bilbo could appreciate and even envy that kind of self-assurance and faith.

“Do I meet you there or…”

“I can pick you up here or…”

Lifting a slightly trembling hand to his burning cheeks, Bilbo scribbled his home address on a cocktail napkin and handed it over jerkily—it was surprisingly hard to pry his fingers off the cheap paper though.

“Shall we say 7 o’clock?” Thorin asked, his eyes gleaming with triumph and boundless joy.

Bilbo nodded, feeling increasingly like a wooden doll that had been turned into a real boy unexpectedly.

“Good, I am looking forward to it. Wear something nice!” Thorin chirped and turned to the door without having ordered a drink; usually, this went against the house rules and would have merited a stern scolding by Bilbo but, on this one occasion, the flustered barkeeper decided to make an exception.

“Thorin!” he called faintly. “You do know that I am gay, right?”

There, it was out. Bilbo thought that it had been implied and referenced often enough for Thorin to get the hint, but he wanted to make absolutely sure that neither one of them was misconstruing what would happen the next day.

“Hmmm,” Thorin hummed over his shoulder, winking at Bilbo with a flash of charisma he had not lavished liberally on his female dates. “That’s why I brought you flowers. There are more where those came from, you know?”

“I love flowers,” Bilbo exclaimed passionately before he could remember his good manners and remind himself not to look overeager or spoiled.

“Then you shall have them,” Thorin grinned. “See you tomorrow!”

Bilbo snarled like a feral creature at this wardrobe; the old, weathered wood did not think his frustration worthy of a reply though and merely kept gaping at the fool its owner was making of himself out of its open drawers and doors.

“Wear something nice,” he muttered under his breath as he discarded the cream-coloured shirt he had been wearing for the last 5 minutes—he had given that one a longer chance than the five that had been tried and rejected before.

Picking up the third shirt again, he eyed it suspiciously. He liked the rich green colour and the fabric felt nice under his fingertips, but the cut was rather unfortunate as it would allow Thorin to see the smidgen of pudge he had not been able to get rid of. Pilates and conscious eating be damned!

Thorin was not a monster, he tried to remind himself; he had sat through dates with five women who had looked very different from one another, and he had not cancelled or aborted any of his meetings on account of their appearance.

Surely, he would not hold the negligible lack of perfect fitness against a man he had mainly seen only partially as Bilbo tended to hide behind the bar whenever he got flustered.

Nevertheless, Bilbo wanted to look his best, lest Thorin suspect that he was taking this date less than seriously. Maybe, he thought uncertainly, that would actually be for the better—just in case the brooding beauty had merely joked about the flowers.

Better not get his foolish hopes up! And he should hurry. And he had forgotten to comb his curls after the shower and now they had dried in a tangled mess. And it was almost time. And he had not even started on the trousers…

Just as he was about to have a panic attack on account of all the things he had clearly not considered well enough beforehand, Bilbo was interrupted in his downward spiral by the sound of his doorbell being rung.

Necessity and urgency made him jump into a nice pair of light brown trousers and pull the tight, green shirt over his unkempt head while shuffling towards the front door.

“Oh hey,” he huffed as he pulled it open, feeling like a proper romance novel hero.

Instead of the expected face—chiselled, bearded, and gleaming with mischief—he looked into a luscious bouquet of multi-coloured flowers.

“Good evening. Am I early?”

Checking his wristwatch and suppressing another groan, Bilbo assured Thorin that he was right on time. “I had a hard time choosing what to wear. Is this nice enough?”

The flowers were lowered instantly, and the electrifying glow of those startlingly blue eyes washed over a woefully agitated Bilbo appreciatively. “Absolutely perfect,” Thorin praise and extended his elbow to Bilbo. “Shall we?”

“2 minutes,” Bilbo promised, took the flowers, and dashed into the kitchen to put them into a vase. As he heard Thorin rummaging in the foyer, he allowed himself to bury his face in their fragrant beauty for a short moment before running back out and valiantly trying to slip into both his shoes at the same time.

“Don’t let my eagerness put any pressure on you,” Thorin said kindly. “We have time. I just thought we’d go there early so you can order the most complicated cocktail on the menu and watch someone else make it.”

“I am hardly that pitiless,” Bilbo snorted and shot back up as if pulled by a string. “I am all ready. Let’s go!”

In the end, Thorin did convince Bilbo to order a fancy cocktail while ordering a beer for himself.

“Bottle of that one,” Bilbo tapped the fancy card laid out in front of him, “I’ve seen what you’ve got on tap, and I think this one will be much better appreciated!”

The barkeeper stared at him for a moment before shrugging and complying.

“Ah, to have one’s own barkeeper,” Thorin sighed contentedly. “This is already a better date than any of the others!”

“Glad to be of service,” Bilbo laughed and moved the basket with peanuts resolutely out of Thorin’s reach. “You’re snacking me out of a home,” he explained with a wink, “and we’re here to have dinner, so I won’t let you ruin your appetite by gorging yourself on nuts! They only put those out because they make you thirsty.”

Staring longingly at the snack, Thorin nodded nonetheless and turned his hungry, intense gaze fully on Bilbo.

While waiting for their table to be ready, they talked about their families, their friends, and their plans in life.

“I’ve always wanted to work with people, you know? I love the bar, but it’s not as if that was all I’ve ever dreamed of…” Bilbo said dreamily, berating himself only vaguely for having downed that cocktail much too fast on an empty stomach—he rarely indulged in alcohol himself as it made him emotional and much too honest.

“I know a guy who works in construction,” Thorin replied candidly. “If you ever want to expand the business, I can give you his card.”

“Sure thing,” Bilbo giggled and leaned back, only to realise—a moment too late—that the barstool did not have a backrest. A broad, strong hand kept him from toppling from his chair though and then, Thorin’s warm breath ghosted along the shell of his ear as he pushed a discreet card over.

“That is your card,” Bilbo snorted after a single glance. “Couldn’t you simply have given me your number?”

“After all the time you’ve spend fiddling with my phone, I think you could have simply saved yours in it!” Thorin shot back, a bit miffed.

“How do you know that I didn’t?”

“I’ve checked.”

There was not much Bilbo could say to that. “All right,” he grinned and pocketed the card. “I’ll call you. About the expansion. And other things. Depending on how this evening goes…No, actually, I think I’ll call you anyway, if only to yell at you!”

“Deal,” Thorin quipped and nodded at someone across the room. “The table is ready.”

Surprise and amazement surged within Bilbo as soon as he saw it—there were slim, white candles and pale pink roses. This truly was a table laid for an intimate date rather than a friendly dinner, and he couldn’t keep his cheeks from warming visibly.

For a single heartbeat, the world seemed to stop in its tracks and every truth he had ever accepted placidly slid out of place—Bilbo suddenly longed for more. He wanted to be brave enough to turn around and simply kiss Thorin, in front of a full restaurant and his extended family, he wanted to expand his business into serving real food and maybe even offering a few rooms for rent, he wanted more than the comfortable life of a well-liked bachelor. He wanted this—this table, this atmosphere, this man—forever.

And then, that uniquely fragile and heart-wrenching moment passed, and they went back to discussing everything and nothing.

When the first course was served, Thorin realised that there had not been a single uncomfortable silence in their conversation and that he felt relaxed and happy instead of tense and miserable in a potentially romantic setting which was the first time in long years.

“So, no news from your ladies?” Bilbo circled back to the subject that haunted him.

“Hmmm? Oh yes, some keep me posted about their life. I am a great listener and a cool friend to have,” Thorin replied easily, snatching a piece of bread out of the basket Bilbo had tried to move out of his direct line of sight.

“I know,” Bilbo commented dryly and gave the breadbasket back with an apologetic shrug.

“It’s all the same,” Thorin explained slowly between bites, “friendship and love, I mean. Most of the time, it just doesn’t click and then you’re better off as friends, wouldn’t you agree? No need to throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

Bilbo nodded cautiously. “Do you think the opposite can happen as well? Falling in love with a friend?”

Instantly, Thorin’s eyes lit up like a chemical fire. “Isn’t that the dream? Falling in love with a friend and being loved back? That’s what dreams are made of!”

For someone who had just dragged himself through his dates as if bearing a calvary, Bilbo thought. Thorin seemed very convinced of his theory and enthusiastic about the prospect that such a thing could happen to anyone.

“So, there’s still a chance for some of them?” Bilbo couldn’t believe his own words—why couldn’t he just let it go?

“No way,” Thorin immediately assured him. “Romantic, then platonic, then romantic again? I’m afraid that goes a bit too far. No, I just want to find someone I am comfortable with.”

He should not have agreed to the delicious bottle of wine Thorin had ordered and from which a discreet waiter kept filling up their glasses, Bilbo realised at the very moment his treacherous tongue went off like a shot. “Indeed,” he heard himself say, “I am convinced that you deserve so much better than these women. None of them has even tried to get to know you or has cared even one bit about whether you wanted a refill or were hungry, or bored, or uncomfortable.”

His voice kept growing louder and more animated and yet, Thorin merely grinned at him as if his clumsy rant was pure poetry. He looked so handsome in his white button-down and dark trousers that Bilbo somehow couldn’t stop himself from complaining about how he thought none of the women deserved a second chance as they had failed to express the appropriate level of appreciation for the kind, handsome, and charming man with whom they had had the honour of spending the evening.

“My glass was always full,” Thorin reminded Bilbo gently, “thanks to you. Moreover, you’ve healed my heart by pouring all the compliments you apparently thought I missed out on upon my undeserving head right now.” His sturdy hand came to rest on Bilbo’s pacifyingly. “They are no longer important; let’s talk about something pleasant instead. Did you like your flowers?”

“Of course,” Bilbo replied and nodded his head so vehemently that his curls fanned out like a golden halo. “That was a very nice gesture. What would you like to discuss then?”

Pressing his lips together to prevent any stupid, premature outburst to ruin his chances, Thorin collected his thoughts for a moment; he was astonished and delighted to notice that he had indeed learned something during the martyrdom of his recent dating history.

He also found that he didn’t really care at all—his tense shoulders relaxed, and his smile softened gradually as the stress of the last weeks just melted away. “Anything is fine by me, anything but them. What do you have planned for this weekend?”

“Work,” Bilbo snorted. “As any other day. I’ve thought about maybe trying to get a Sunday brunch thing going.” He tapped a finger against his plush, inviting lips pensively.

Thorin’s eyebrows travelled up his forehead as a new idea took hold in his head. “If I come by to look around the premises and tell you what is possible in terms of expansion, I’d take a test-brunch as my payment.”

“Is that so?” Bilbo cocked his head. “It would only be you and me though.”

“It’s only you and me now,” Thorin commented astutely. “Just the way I like things, as it turns out!”

“Well, then, by all means, be my guest. I’ll prepare a spread for you that you won’t forget!”

Somehow, Thorin did not doubt that for a single second. Bilbo was a man who truly enjoyed food; he had become the mesmerised witness of the profound and otherworldly pleasure his guest could take in a well-prepared meal, and he yearned to see that blissed-out expression on Bilbo’s soft, mobile features more often.

There were many things he longed for, now that he came to think of it: the amused little side-glance Bilbo gave him when he got extraordinarily huffy about something utterly irrelevant, the beaming smile a slightly buzzed Bilbo cracked whenever Thorin said something even remotely funny, and—more than anything else—the quiet gaze of solidarity and affection he had caught from the corner of his eye at times. Somehow, Bilbo seemed to intrinsically feel or know just what was needed to save Thorin from a disagreeable situation or an extended session of senseless brooding.

“Any allergies?” Bilbo asked, interrupting Thorin’s realisation that he could not remember ever having enjoyed a date half as much as this dinner.

“Hmm? No…sorry, I was miles away in my thoughts.”

“I could tell. Are you tired, do you want to skip dessert?” Bilbo asked gently, patting Thorin’s hand to make him understand that he was neither angry nor disappointed. “I feel like I’ve eaten my own weight already anyway.”

“Maybe,” Thorin replied with a wink, “next time? I have been told that Bombur’s chocolate soufflé is to die for.”

Bilbo’s eyes lit up at the word “soufflé” and, true to his nature, he didn’t need any more convincing or coaxing after that.

“By the way, I am not tired, no,” Thorin said when he saw a thickly laden spoon full of gooey deliciousness be ensconced firmly between Bilbo’s lips. “I was just thinking how much I like being here with you.”

“You don’t think I am a gluttonous pig?” Bilbo mouthed around his spoon, his eyes twinkling with good cheer and sugar-fuelled ecstasy.

“I don’t,” Thorin assured him; he had never given the gender of his potential partners much thought before. He had always surmised that he was just the kind of man who was only attractive to a select group of people that kept dwindling fast as the years went by—that set had been comprised of mainly women by chance or accident thus far, and Thorin had had no say in the matter or reason to contest that.

If that was about to change now, he thought placidly, he wouldn’t object to changing his habits and adapt his expectations to the reality of his prospects and desires.

Never in a thousand years would he have presumed to find such a comfortable and yet exciting potential lover in a surprisingly prim barkeeper with a wicked sense of humour and a deep love for flavourful food. Bilbo evidently loved life and—seeing him celebrate others’ successes without reticence or envy—reminded Thorin of how much he had sacrificed throughout his own existence.

“You make me feel alive,” he confessed, “the way you eat, the way you talk, the way you smile at me. It’s as if you could turn back the time and make me believe that it’s not too late for me to be happy. Is that cheesy?”

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded, licking his spoon, “but I love cheese. Actually, the olives they served with the bread. Do you know where they get them from?”

“They pickle or brine or marinate them themselves,” Thorin replied sheepishly. “I do not know. I am a mediocre cook.” That was a bold lie; his cooking was positively awful, but he didn’t want Bilbo to know. After this charming evening, Thorin would crawl to his sister and implore her to impart her valuable wisdom to redress that flaw as soon as he could.

“Hmmm, I wonder if they’d share the recipe,” Bilbo mused aloud. For a moment, Thorin was taken in by his casual musings, but then he realised that Bilbo’s eyes were just a smidgen too feverish now even though his initial inebriation had worn off long since.

“What is the matter?”

“Are you playing me, Thorin?” Bilbo asked in a quiet, shivering voice. “I am not like those women; I don’t put my heart on the line recklessly.”

“I am not. Why do you say that?”

“I’ve watched you go on dates with 5 women in about as many weeks,” Bilbo exclaimed, clapping his hand over his trembling lips when a few other stragglers turned to him in startled surprise or outright annoyance. “I…Do you even…”

“I don’t care,” Thorin said firmly, the conviction that he was on the right track constantly growing within his heart. “I just know that you make me feel good about the world, life, and myself. When you’re around, everything seems a little brighter and less fatal than I’ve always thought it’d be, and I want that in my life.”

“A friend,” Bilbo muttered. “I can be your friend—you’re an amazing person to be around and you’re, as always, too hard on yourself. You’re actually not so bad yourself and you’ve been the only source of entertainment these last few weeks—I really have to get something new going to spruce the old dig up.”

Me, Thorin thought desperately. In his mind, he could see it—a crystal clear vision of perfect bliss. He’d come to the bar after work and sit by the counter, telling Bilbo about his day.

His friends could come, and maybe his disastrous dates could become regulars as well, who knew? He certainly wouldn’t mind keeping them in his life as casual acquaintances.

Saturday sessions on the job site, Sunday brunches. Everything—his plans of letting his nephews slowly take over more important clients and bear more responsibility in the firm as well as Bilbo’s designs for his own place—suddenly made sense.

Despite the late hour, Thorin felt invigorated and refreshed as after a long and restful night.

“Bilbo,” he interrupted the frantic babbling about avocado toast and different swatches of pastel colours gently but firmly. “I am not asking you to be my friend.”

Thorin took out his wallet and left a generous tip, knowing that Bombur would send the actual bill to his office for discretion purposes. “Let’s go; it’s a fine night and I think we could both do with a little digestive walk, don’t you think?”

Nodding dumbly, Bilbo allowed himself to insert his hand into the crook of Thorin’s elbow and be led out of the fancy, by now almost entirely empty, restaurant as if he was indeed the guest of honour of the night. A soppy smile struggled to take hold of his mouth and distort it into an unforgivably silly expression of emotion, but he managed to bite it back just in time as Thorin’s luminous gaze fell upon his face.

“Oh, you were made to be seen under the stars,” Bilbo whispered as all the blues, blacks, and silvers of Thorin’s complexion melted into the background of a starry night sky to create an ephemeral work of art that was painted by the hands of fate just for his own momentary enjoyment. “If only I had known—I’d opened the outdoor seating for your dates.”

“Humbug,” Thorin chuckled. “They’d have fallen ill and I’d have had to foot the bill for their medical expenses. Thank you, but no, thank you.”

Steering Bilbo confidently, he took him to an outlook platform over a small river and they felt the cool night air make their hair dance in the fragrant breeze. The whole scene felt absolutely magical and otherworldly to Bilbo who sighed longingly under his breath.

“As much as I love your bar,” Thorin said in a low, vibrating voice, “there are many places I’d want to take a date outside of it. This is but one of those.”

Bilbo hummed patiently, turning up his face to bask in the beauty of his companion—he had only ever seen Thorin in the pub and, now that he had spent a whole evening with him, he had to agree. Indeed, he himself desired to see Thorin in other contexts: illuminated by flickering candlelight and bathed in the pale gleam of the moon, sitting in the blazing afternoon sun…and waking up to the first, shy rays of the nascent morning.

“I think,” Thorin went on, lifting his hand to grip Bilbo’s chin tenderly between his thumb and crooked index, “that I want to take you to those places. Are you game? You don’t have to…I mean…There’s no need to spare my feelings now out of pity only to break my heart later.”

Instantly, Bilbo’s own heart started throbbing in empathy and affection; Thorin had experienced so much rejection and disappointment lately that he came to simply expect that things would end badly for him.

Nonetheless, he had been brave enough to try something completely different and ask out someone who was not at all in the usual pool of potential partners for him—and he had done marvellously. Bilbo could not remember having ever gone on such a beautiful and utterly bewitching date before, and every fibre of his being dreaded the end of this night.

What if it had all been a dream?

“I’d love that,” he replied breathlessly, resolving to match Thorin’s reckless courage and giving in to foolish hope against all odds.

“Good,” Thorin grinned winningly.

A moment later, his lips—warm and sensual—brushed against Bilbo’s in a tentative kiss that felt like a caress and tasted sweet and refreshing like a splash of spring water.

Damn it, Bilbo thought hazily, and threw his arms around Thorin’s neck, giving his massive frame a vigorous tug until they collided in the stillness of the picturesque night scene like two meteors burning across the endless black backdrop.

Their kiss turned feverish, thrumming with words unspoken and questions unasked, while their hands roamed forcefully and desperately across each other’s backs and sides as if in search of something to hold on to as the world spun out of focus.

“I’ll come by on Sunday,” Thorin promised as he finally pulled back; his face radiated with joy in the ambient obscurity and his thumbs brushed caressingly against Bilbo’s shivering ribs. “And I’ve changed my mind about the price of my consultation. A brunch, yes, but also about two thousand more of these kisses. Generous as I am, I shall let you pay them off by regular instalments."

"Sounds like a deal,” Bilbo agreed, dizzy with relief and anticipation. “How about you come by Saturday night and allow me to make a down payment after closing time?”

“Ah, you’ve got a sound mind for business,” Thorin cackled, pulling Bilbo into a tight, warm embrace and leaning his bearded cheek against the top of the curly head of the shorter man tenderly. “I can see that we’ll get along just fine.”

@lordoftherazzles, @mysandwichranaway thank you for your encouragement and your support.

Lots of love from me!

And all my gratitude to the Bagginshielders for having voted so fervently for their OTP; I hope I could bring this story to a satisfactory close for y'all.

[kwrenreads]

chapter three

pairing/s: royalty!seventeen x princess!sibling!reader + non!idol!park jongseong x bestfriend!reader (non-idol!enhypen x reader)

warning/s: implications of over-working one's self

word count: 1,874

a/n: this one's sort of just a filler chapter but also to establish other plots of the story — i see it that way anyway lol ALSO THANK U SM FOR THE SUPPORT THE PAST FEW CHAPTERS THEY ALL MEAN SO MUCH TO ME. tell me what you think as well, there’s nothing else i love more than interact and speculate w other people hehe — hopefully i've added everyone that requested on the taglist — if not, send a message, reply and/or comment (same goes for those who want to be added!) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

chapter two - masterlist - chapter four

picture(s) from pinterest !

The young girl stays silent as Jongseong frantically moved around his room, packing articles of clothing for his term on Decelis. Her eyes follow his movements, wondering where to begin her questions “Are you excited this year?” she finally asks, handing him a shirt she had been mindlessly folding on his bed. 

“Yes... no... Maybe? Apparently, we’re getting loads of new students this year — not to mention my exams coming up.” The boy sighs, accepting the article of clothing. The princess hums, deciding right then that maybe that one question was enough for now. Jongseong goes quiet, scanning the open suitcase on his floor. He huffs, making eye contact with Y/N before planting himself face first on his bed, where she had been sat on the edge.

She chuckles, adjusting to a criss-cross position, facing him. Lost in her own thoughts, wandering towards when the two first met… 

Y/N was only 5 years old, her head just barely reaching Joshua’s waist. The older boy decided to her bring along , the two walking around their town’s times square. Every inch seemed to be covered by vendors, each selling their own unique items. Hand in hand, her eyes were wide as saucers as the two wandered from one stall to another — the girl never failing to shy away from the compliments given by everyone.

“I feel like my charm is gone, gongjunim. It seems like you stole all of it.”

The little girl giggles, growing a smile on Joshua’s face. They continue their trip, Joshua stopping the both of them briefly wondering where to go to next.

“Oppa, can we get something to eat? I’m hungry,” she asks, eyes set on to something as she spoke. Joshua follows her line of sight, chuckling upon seeing the taiyaki displayed. “I’m assuming you want taiyaki?” the boy says, making eye contact with Y/N. She reveals a toothy grin, two small hands clutching onto Joshua’s. “Yes please!”

They ended up sitting on one of the available dining spaces. Despite the two being alright with the ones displayed just moments prior their arrival, Joshua trying his best to save the owner the hassle — whom they learned was a lovely middle-aged woman named Jin-ae — insisted on making them fresh ones.

It was quiet, save for the sizzling of batter hitting the pan and the shouts of a couple kids nearby, playing. This catches Joshua’s attention, gaze moving from the group of kids to his younger sister. He sighs, watching the curious expression on her face. “Do you want to join them?”.

Joshua sees when he broke the small trance she was in, laughing lightly. “Huh?”, Y/N’s confused eyes meets his amused ones. Right when he was about to ask again, a ball rolls towards them — stopping just where her feet hang in the air, the chair not really for people her size.

“Can you pass the ball, please?” one of the kids yell. They don’t seem to realise they were shouting at the kingdom’s princess. If more adults were nearby, the kids would've already been told off, in forms of threatening whispers and harsh glares. Joshua didn't seem to mind. In fact, no member of the family really bothered with formal addresses when it comes to their people, after all — they work with them, not for.

He observes as his little sister gets off the chair, grabbing a hold of the ball, sensing the conflict in her eyes. One factor he knew too well himself.

It wasn't until recently that the family became closer with the town. Joshua was only the same age as his sister when their grandparents — the former rulers of the kingdom — died. It was also the same time his own parents made the rules looser, less strict. To be more as one rather being the higher ups. Of course, being the official monarchy of Pledis, they still had extra responsibilities the rest of them didn't. That didn't mean the people weren't lesser than them which was what their grandparents were. It was not long until they made friends around the kingdom, no longer restricted to just their siblings and occasional children of other rulers to play with. Not that it was a problem, it just felt nicer to be free.

Joshua soon realised his little sister did not know anyone her age. For so long, her playmates were always her brothers — or whichever staff was available in the palace, like he was once. The sigh that leaves his lips was of recognition, a crease on his forehead. “Go,” he encourages. Her head snaps towards his direction, mouth slightly hanging open, excitement sparkling in her eyes. Joshua smiles fondly, nodding once again, gesturing towards the other kids. “I’ll call you when it’s time to go, yeah? And I’ll bring the taiyaki.”

Y/N nods, a smile on her face as she makes a run towards the group. She approaches one of the boys, handing him the ball. “I’m Jongseong! But my friends call me Jay. You can call me Jay too!”

The sounds of clicking brings her back to reality. Y/N blinks rapidly, gaze growing clear — making contact with Jongseong’s concerned eyes. “Are you okay? I lost you for a bit there,” he says, sitting up. Y/N smiles, instantly calming the boy down. “I was just thinking about when we first saw each other.”

The smile on Jay’s face matches hers. He chuckles, shaking his head as he lays down and stares at the ceiling. “That was… forever ago.”

Y/N hums in agreement, manoeuvring around the space she was on to mimick Jay. They remain quiet, attention focused on the several pictures he had littered all over his walls. Her brows furrow, growing curious as one catches her eye. It was by the corner, almost overshadowed by the other surrounding it.

Key word: almost.

She could remember that moment any day.

'It must be a core memory' — Hansol had said once during their conversations.

“Jay?”

“Hm?”. The boy hums, waiting for Y/N to continue. The lack of a reply had him trying again.

“Gongjunim?”

The nickname slipped out of his mouth too easily. Internally cringing, he hopes Y/N didn’t catch on the secondary meaning of his call. “It’s nothing, just ignore me.” The princess sighs, a torn expression on her face. Jeongsong frowns, getting up from his position to face his best friend. He kneels down in front of her, eyes meeting hers. “You know you can tell me, right?” he whispers, a hand reaching out to take a hold of hers. Y/N closes her eyes at the contact, throat suddenly feeling tight.

Quickly gathering herself up, Y/N clears her throat and open her eyes. The tiny squeeze she gave Jeongsong’s hand had the boy visibly relaxing, allowing a tiny smile to form on her face. “Not right now. I’m sorry,” she apologises. He only smiles, giving her hand another squeeze before standing up. “It’s okay. I can wait.”

When sun decided to show its orange hue, Y/N started to excuse herself — the time to go home clocking in. Jay insisted on walking the princess home, despite her protests.

“Can’t have the princess walking in darkness, you know. Who knows what’ll happen.”

“You do know that princess excuse doesn’t work on me anymore, right?”

She lied.

After all, Jay was right. If something had happened to her that night, the whole kingdom would go in to shambles. And Jay being the last known person she was with would mean he would be the prime suspect.

It was not being the princess that stopped her but she knew that she would rather strangle someone than get her best friend excluded for something he didn’t do.

Arriving safely back to the palace, the flush on her cheeks after the the kiss Jay left on the crown of her head slowly fading away, she makes her way towards the music room, looking for a particular brother. Knocking twice, she waits for Jihoon’s call of ‘come in’. Seconds pass and there was no sound. She knocks again, louder this time — hoping she was just too quiet the first time. When another round of silence hits her, she invites herself in.

The music room was dark, save for the few lamps Jihoon kept on for himself. Although quite dim, there was enough light for her to notice the slouched figure by the round table.

“Aish!”

Y/N huffs, rolling her eyes. She closes the door behind her, making sure not to make too much noise. Taking careful steps, she quietly hums to herself as she gathers the sheets of paper surrounding Jihoon. Each was full of random scribbles, varying colours of pen scratching the plain surface. She stacks them one by one, careful not to mess up the order of the dates written on the corners. Reaching the last few on the table, ready to call it done when she just notices a few others scattered on the floor.

“Yah… oppa… you were really at it today, weren’t you…” she mumbles, crouching down to pick up a few more. Her fingers catch on to one, realising the slight difference in the shade.

Most of the time, Y/N tries her best not to read too much of the contents Jihoon has written when visiting, in fear of spoiling too much for herself and upsetting her brother. After all, she’s willing to wait when he’s ready to share.

But curiosity won this time around. Her brows furrow at the rather old date of the paper — confused on why it had been gathered with the more recent ones. From what she knew, Jihoon always kept older ones in his files.

“いつかきっと君が僕の心に (Someday you might be in my heart…)”

She reads, taking note of the larger blank spaces between lines.

“青空見つめもう (Gazing the blue sky, _______)

誰かのすべてになりたいんだ (I want to be someone’s everything…)”

“Must’ve been one of his unfinished works,” she whispers, shrugging her shoulders as she puts it at the very back of the stack in her hands.

Y/N continues her tidying, careful not to make too much noise. Moments later, pens were in holders and papers were in a box, and it was just Y/N and the still sleeping Jihoon.

She carefully places her hand on his shoulder, shaking the older boy slightly. “Oppa,” she whispers, giving him another shake. Jihoon moves, shifting on his seat before going still again. “Jihoon oppa, it’s time to wake up,” she says, louder this time.

Incoherent words come out of Jihoon’s mouth as he slowly gains his senses. Rubbing the sleep off his eyes, he looks around — the blurry image of Y/N standing beside him getting clearer. “Gongjunim, are you alright?”.

The princess playfully scoffs at the question, raising an inquisitive brow towards Jihoon. “Me? I should be asking you that, oppa. The snores coming from your mouth tell me you haven’t been sleeping for days.” Although Y/N was teasing, she can’t help but let the tiniest bit of worry seep through upon wondering if she somehow told the truth. The annoyed laugh from Jihoon washes it all away.

“It’s almost dinner by the way. I’ll see you down there, yeah?”

taglist: @cosmicallyfaye @belladaises @satsukiaisu @haneulparadx @mythicalamphitrite @xxluckydreamsxx @tyongf-sunflower99 @gaebestie @megseungmin @playboygeniusphilanthropist

[mygloviesme]

cool about it. || myg

no. 17: I’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: kanako is an established idol with a growing career and a secret relationship with a producer from her label, haneul. when she’s asked to work with yoongi and rm to create a track for her, she gains unexpected feelings for a certain upcoming rapper. with her increasing fame, her controlling boyfriend, a set of six boys who seem to have grown an attachment to her, and a new boy who’d give her the world, how will she figure out a way to balance it all?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 4.9k

genre: ANGST, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn, fluff

chapter warnings: toxic relationship (not w/myg), mentions of mental health

inspo song: cool about it by boygenius

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 3:09AM

It’s been too long. We’ve been here too long. The night is coming to an end, so why is everything starting? What happened? I can’t get out. All I feel is my life coming to an unfortunate halt. I can’t go back to square one, I have too many times. I’d rather just- 

“Well this is something.” Haneul says. The woman next to him has her arms crossed like she’s annoyed or upset. I don’t care, though. I don’t care about anything right now. I just want to leave. I look at Yoongi who’s looking at me, as if he knows that I’m falling apart. 

I can never be happy. I can never enjoy life here. 

“Just let us go, yeah?” Yoongi spits, attempting to push past the taller man. Haneul doesn’t let him, noticing the hickey that I placed on Yoongi’s neck just moments prior. I feel myself tense up, my breath reaching its end. My mouth curls slightly upside down like a child. Because that’s what he makes of me. I feel so small compared to him. What should I say? How can I disappear from his towering presence that is so familiar to me? How can I clean myself of the grime he left? 

Haneul shakes his head, “So this is what you’re up to, huh? Then why are all the tabloids saying you’re so broken you can’t even leave your dorm? Do you think they know you’ve been whoring ar-” He’s blown to the side, bumping into the girl with the black dress as he keeps his body propped up. Namjoon stands next to him, breathing heavily and breathing fast. I scan his body to meet with his fist, shaking. 

Yoongi holds my hand but I jerk back, completely thrown off by this whole situation. My body feels too sensitive to be touched. I feel too dissociative to be brought back down to reality. 

Haneul stands back up, leaning his arm to throw a punch right back at Namjoon. I place my hand over my mouth, unbelieving that this is actually happening. And this is how it chooses to unfold. Not even a text, a random call from him, this. Is this what I deserve? Is this what some power, whatever it is, thinks I deserve? Soon enough they’re tackling each other relentlessly, tossing and turning. It’s so hard to look away but I know I can’t leave, but I don’t know what to do. 

I see Yoongi trying to reach for Namjoon to break him away but has no luck, Namjoon is obviously determined to finish whatever he has planned out in his head. And I’m scared to figure out what it is. They’re both doing damage to each other until Namjoon gets his way on top of Haneul. He grabs Haneul’s head and bangs it down on the club floor only once, his chest moving up and down quickly as Haneul lies there breathlessly. 

“Namjoon…” I whisper. He looks up to me and gulps, seeing the tears that are falling down my face. Once I cry I don’t stop, not ever. This time they’re uncontrollable and loud and they don’t wait for anyone. Seeing Namjoon’s reddened cheeks and Haneul’s stricken-face is enough for me to leave. I don’t bother stopping for Yoongi or Namjoon who yell my name out continuously. 

I don’t look back, I keep running. I forget that the end of the hallway is met with the crowd of people that block the passageway to the exit. I push and shove through the crowd, being extra careless about who I hurt in the process. All I can think is to get out. Running away, never coming back. There’s snot dribbling down my upper lip and I’m sure my makeup is ruined. 

When I’ve come to the end of the dance floor I see the glowing bar that has my jacket hanging off a stool. I grab it as I run to the door, not knowing who could be outside. Who could see me like this, again. Again, again, again. 

Seeing Haneul and hearing him speak was the breaking point. I wish it could’ve stayed a bad memory. Something I could surely heal from and was in the process of doing so. But I wasn’t meant to heal. I’m not meant to stay here. I know that now. With every chance I truly gave myself came something bad in return. I’m the curse. 

The cold March air hits the tip of my nose as I run up the stairs, goosebumps trailing all over my body. I throw my jacket on with haste, smelling Yoongi’s familiar scent. If only this, he, was enough to make me forget Haneul. But he isn’t. God, he isn’t. No one or nothing can ever fix me. I’m so sure of it now. 

I’m a few steps away from the club until I freeze in my tracks. All I can think about is Jungkook, about where he was. Why am I thinking about him? Why is he the only thing I can focus on? I turn on my heels to run back to the club until someone else jumps out of the club doors. But it’s not Jungkook, it’s another boy. The person that I cannot be talking to right now. 

“Yoongi, please. I really can’t-”

“Let me come with you. I can walk you home and make sure you’re safe, I’m sor-”

“Please just leave me alone, please.”

“Kanako hear me out-”

“STOP!” I shout at him. His head tilts back in shock. But still, he inches closer. He’s still trying. 

Stop trying. 

I give myself a moment to tranquilize. I don’t feel calm whatsoever, but I can’t speak like that to him or anyone. But I don’t want to open up, I don’t want to let him in ever again. The ticking time bomb I always thought I portrayed had finally exploded. My cup has been tipped over the brim. Whatever metaphor it is, I know I’ve finally given up.

“I n-need time alone. To think.” I say, now quietly. There’s tears pricking his eyes as he stops trying to move towards me, making my heart break. His hands look like they’re shaking for my touch. His feet look like they want to walk me home. His lips look like they want to kiss me goodnight. But I can’t have that. Not anymore. This is what is good for me, this is what I need.

“No, Kanako. You need someone to help you. And I can do that. I’m here for you.” He pleads. 

The cars passing by are muted in my ears, his words isolated in the vicinity of us. Seoul seems so quiet tonight, but I think I’m just having a hard time comprehending life outside of this. My forehead pounds with how hard I’m crying, the sensation feeling almost unbearable. 

I choke out a sob, “N-No, Yoongi. Stay away from me. I can’t be here anymore.”

“What do you mean by that? D-Do you want to break up with me?”

His words sound so small compared to my thoughts. Compared to what I’m thinking. Don’t say it Kanako, don’t say-

“I’m leaving Korea.” I blurt out. It’s something my brain wants, to push him away further. To forget about me. I want him to hate me. Feel anything but sympathy, it’ll make this easier. 

He shakes his head, “What- What do you mean by that, Kanako? What are you saying?”

My bottom lip quivers and I look away from him, staring at the sky. “I signed up for an abroad program in America. I’m leaving.” I admit. I can’t bear to look at him at this moment. But a voice makes me have to, a small one. One that belongs to someone who was one of the reasons I stayed. 

“You’re leaving?” A muggy Jungkook asks. His face is still red from dancing in the club and his shirt clings to his body with sweat. He looks struck, lost. All I want to do is hug him but I can’t. Not as long as I’m the one doing the hurting. He doesn’t deserve that. 

My eyes soften, more tears. “I-I…”

Yoongi is aggrieved now. He laughs just like I have times before, manically. 

“Tell him, Kanako.” He speaks bitterly. It cuts through me just like this sharp, cold night. I feel it like a piece of sheet metal on my throat as the words roll off my tongue with hesitation.  “I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I’m so sorry, I have to.” I cry out, almost begging for his forgiveness. He looks just like the small boy he is at this moment. Like he’s crawling into a safe, confined space to be protected. Every part of me wants to reach for both of them, to tell them it was all a lie. But I can’t take it back. The words have been said, and I’m now the worst person alive. It’s okay, this is how it was always supposed to happen. Morbid and cruel, just like me.

Jungkook is too distraught to say anything and he steps away little by little. Like I’m hurting him, like he’s afraid of me. Those doe-eyes, they’re now fearful. 

Yoongi walks towards him and gives him a tight embrace, leaving me to my own accord. All I can think to do is to walk away. I turn my back and wrap my jacket around myself, knowing I’ll never be able to forgive myself for not going back. 

I’ll never forgive myself. 

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 7:12AM

I slept for one hour. It wasn’t until I heard the rest of the boys open and close their dorm doors that I awoke, hoping to hear a knock or two on my door. But it never came. Not one. I waited for an hour, hoping they’d have a change of heart. 

But I’ve been awake ever since and staring at my ceiling. No noise whatsoever, just succumbing to my self-destructive thoughts. Imagining this night repeatedly. The drinking, the dancing, Yoongi’s lips on me, Haneul’s cologne, Namjoon’s shaky fist, Jungkook’s heartbroken expression. It goes in that order. Sometimes I remember certain details and it makes my body tense up and I start crying all over again with no one to hold me this time. 

Then I think about this past year. I replay those memories to dig the metaphorical knife deeper. Haneul, Yoongi, the boys, Jeju, back to Seoul. That order isn’t very specific though. I get flashes of Yoongi’s smile or Seokjin’s bickering once in a while and curl my body into a fetal position, hoping the self-soothing would work better this time. It never does. 

There’s so much loss. So much pain. 

I decided to finally open my phone during the night, after all these months. Just to make myself feel worse, honestly. Loads of texts and missed calls from people I haven’t heard from in years. Texts from Haneul, calling me all the names I bet he wishes he said aloud tonight. The news coverage doesn’t hurt me as much anymore but it does validate the thoughts I have about myself. I spent another ten minutes crying while looking through everything everyone has been saying until I reached a text message from a name I haven’t heard in years. 

Keiko. An old grade-school friend I had in Japan. She knew me before my mother passed, she knew who I was before any of this happened. 

Keiko: Koko, so nice to not see your face on the TV for once. I know that sounds so weird but I had a feeling I needed to tell you that. How are you doing? How’s life? I’m in New York now, interning at a publishing place. So cool, right? Not as cool as being an idol though. Let’s talk sometime! 

She used to call me Koko. Something my mom said once that Keiko heard and loved ever since. My heart aches to talk like a child with her again. I want to sit on the floor with crayons and laugh about how funny each other’s drawings were. I want to make mud pies in her backyard and have her mother scold both of us for getting so dirty. I want to have a princess-themed birthday party and invite all my friends over. I want to go back. 

I’ve been staring at the text for an hour now, wondering if I should call her. It’s much too early, and she’s probably working. I don’t want to bother her. Isn’t it mid-day for her? I’ll seem so weird calling her at this hour, my time. But why is my thumb hovering over the call button? And why do I click it? I don’t expect her to answer. She has better things to do, like not calling me. I press my phone against my ear and tear-stained cheek, feeling the vibration of the call ringing against my skin. 

“Ah, Koko?” I hear her as she picks up. Hearing her call me that gives me a sense of relief for some reason.

I sniffle, attempting to sound fine. “Keiko, you picked up.”

“Yes of course. Jeez, how are you?” I hear her smiling. I can see her face now. I used to stalk her instagram so I know she had cut her hair short a bit ago. She always had long hair which made people say we looked alike often. But she cut it. She let go. 

“I-I’m good. I’m good. How are you?” I ask, hearing the quietness on the other line. It doesn’t sound like she’s busy. That makes me feel less of a burden. 

“I’m good. I’ve been wondering about you.”

“Oh. Have you?”

“Yes, of course.” She says again, “I was just thinking about that time my mom got so mad at us for making mud-pies in my backyard. You remember that?” 

She says that as if it isn’t breaking me into a million pieces more. I hold my chest tightly as I begin crying again. Again. 

“Yes…I do. That was so-” I let out a choke. 

“Oh, Koko. What’s wrong? You don’t sound okay.”

I shake my head as if she’s here, looking at me. “N-No don’t worry about me. I’m alright.”

“You sure?”

It takes everything in me to say the next seven words, “Actually, I don’t think I’m okay, Keiko.”

I want to apologize. I don’t feel deserving of comfort right now, but I need it. I need to be reminded there was a time before all of this. 

“What’s happening?”

I sob into the phone, “I-I really miss my mom. I miss not being here. I wish you could know what’s going on because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to recount everything that’s happened right now.” 

She lets out a small breath. “I know…that it must be…hard. Without her. I know how close you guys were. I’m so sorry Kanako.” She’s being sincere. Like she’s stopped what she’s doing to tell me that. 

“I think I’m going to leave Korea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…I signed up for an abroad program. It’s actually in New York too, but it’s at a community college. It sounds great, I just don’t know if I should leave.”

“Why is that?”

I wipe the tears from my face and stare at the pink ribbon that lays on my side table. The one he wanted me to put in my hair. I look at the scar on my hand, faint but there. When he rushed to aid me. I feel his kiss on my skin. When he loved me hard, hard, hard. 

“There’s someone. Multiple people. I met them all here. I love them, but I love this one person especially much.” I say through my croaky voice. My throat has been abused by my sobs and shouts and screaming. Also, I’m still in the same clothes. I’ve been rotting in my bed ever since I left the club. 

“Oh, I see. But Koko, this isn’t about him right?” 

“What do you mean?”

She hums, “Well it’s about what you need. Do you need to leave but want him?”

I turn over on my back, my phone still against my ear with my hand. “I think I need him.”

She’s silent for a moment. “You have time to come back to him.”

She confuses me once again, “Come back to him? I can’t ask him to wait for me.”

“Well I’m not saying that. But if it’s really meant to be, then you can go off on your own to figure out your life and you’ll run into each other again, like fate.. I saw it in a movie once.”

Her logic is a tiny bit flawed but I understand her nonetheless. It makes it easier, the thought of leaving, But it doesn’t take away the guilt. And it’s tremendous, the guilt. 

“Yeah. Maybe.”

A beat. 

“Hey Koko.”

“Yeah?”

She pauses, “Thanks for calling. I’ve been having a stressful time and it was great to talk to you again.”

I’m caught a bit by surprise, thinking it was only one-sided. But we both needed each other in the end, I suppose. Maybe it was kismet, fate. Maybe. 

“You too Keiko.”

“And hey, if you ever end up in the big apple, call me. I’d love to have another tea party.”

I grip the phone tighter, 

“Me too, Keiko.”

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 12:00PM

I’m living off of minimal sleep but loads of adrenaline as I sit at the same table with the boys. A conference table. Bang-PD called us in for an emergency meeting, and I assume it’s when he saw Namjoon’s bruises. I’m sure everything came up after that. 

PD-nim sits at the end of the table looking more stressed than usual. I look at Namjoon next, who has an almost unreal black-eye forming. It’s not quite at its peak but there’s already bits of purple that’s formed within the last few hours. The rest of his face looks swollen, especially his left cheek. He turns his eyes to me which makes me look away quickly. I’m sure none of them want to talk to me. They’ve made that clear with the painful silence that’s been happening for the past ten minutes. 

Or maybe it’s the anxiety about what Bang is going to speak about. 

“Kanako…I-I. I’m at a loss, truly.” PD sighs, rubbing his eyes. 

I nod slowly, like a dog who’s been caught. An untrained puppy. I’m guilty. 

“I’m sorry I kno-”

“We’ve been here to help you throughout this whole process-”

“I know and I’m so gratef-”

“But starting a relationship in the midst of this chaos has proven to me that you’re not serious about your commitment to this company.”

Oh. Ouch. 

I can’t help but glance at Yoongi who stares down at his hands. He doesn’t look guilty, he looks like he knows what will happen next. Like they all know what’s going to happen. They’ve been asked here to watch my demise. 

“I understand that.” I whisper. 

Bang-PD shuffles through his papers and pulls out a small stapled set of paperwork. He’s hesitant at first but hands it over to me eventually. “We can’t allow you to continue here. I’ve been informed that you have plans to leave a-and so I think that makes your current status at this company nonexistent. I’m sorry.” He mutters. 

I look down at the papers that are clearly for discharging from this company. One where I won’t be renewing my contract, I’ll be leaving. Once I sign this, it’s final. Everything is dissipating before me. 

All these months, these therapy sessions, just for me to leave. This ending is unsatisfying and heartbreaking. It’s so odd how one night can change anything. I’m not even sure if the part of me that wants to leave is the most dominating, but it feels like that’s what everyone else wants me to do. I wonder if there could’ve ever been an alternate ending, one where we all lived happily ever after. 

But those never exist, not as long as I’m the protagonist. 

And now that Bang knows about me and Yoongi, clearly, means someone had to tell him. And I’m sure it was Yoongi himself. Maybe out of spite, sadness, whatever it was. But I’m not welcome here anymore. I guess my career as an idol ended when it started. I’ve been doomed since the beginning. How unfair is that?

I grab the pen and click the bottom, hovering over where my first signature needs to be placed. Before signing, I look at everyone who sits before me. They’re all watching me at this moment, waiting to see if I’d actually do it. But I will be going down without a fight.

I’m tired of fighting.

I sign the first line, then the second, and third, and so forth. It’s a good five minutes of flipping through all the pages until I’m met with an NDA. I can’t speak about my time here, at least not to anyone important. These months will be a secret. Yoongi, a secret. 

“From now on we won’t speak about your time here at BigHit. After we publicly announce your resignation, the boys cannot mention you at any time if asked. And in regards to you, you are not allowed to talk to anyone about your time here.” Bang says.

It’s just like the last time I was in here, when he swore to protect me. But it’s not just about what Haneul did anymore, it’s about what I did to this company. It’d be unrealistic to think that there would ever be a time that they would be proud to know that they were under my success. It’s embarrassing, shameful. I’ve almost ruined their name. 

As for Yoongi, I love him so much it physically hurts me to think of the fact that I won’t be able to speak about him. Morning, day, and night I think about him. There’s a tickling in my throat to mention him anytime to anyone at all, a burning desire to express how I feel about him. He was never mine, though. If this is how it was going to end this whole time, there was never an us. 

And he’ll be debuting. He can’t have that controversy. He’ll have to act like I never existed either. All of them have to pretend that these past months never happened. 

I sign it. 

That’s the end of the signatures for now, so I hand Bang the papers back. I click the pen once more and set it on the table, placing my palms face down as an attempt to quiet the shakiness. This can’t be real. I was in this room just three years ago, signing a dotted line to agree to be a part of this company. We celebrated with dinner and laughter that same day. It was so exciting to be signed as their first artist. I guess things change in a way we’d never expect. 

“S-So we’ll figure out more of the details later, but for now you have one week to move out of the dorms.” Bang-PD says as he adjusts his glasses.

I shake my head, “My flight is tomorrow morning, so. I’ll be gone. Don’t worry.”

Before breathing in the rest of the energy in the room, I slide myself out of the chair to head for the door. If they won’t speak to me I’d rather cut this off as quickly as I can. Maybe it’ll make it hurt less, that’s where my logic is right now. But I’m grasping at straws, anything that might make me not want to throw myself into incoming traffic. 

A part of me hesitates to open the door, hoping, wishing I would hear any of them speak. To

stop me. But that’s selfish and unrealistic, and they all go back to talking about the rest of the meeting. Like I was never here. I wish Yoongi would run over to me and kiss me one last time. But I hurt him, I’m leaving him. I’d rather him hate me than mourn whatever we were. 

It’s probably better that way. 

MARCH 31ST, 2012, 4:10AM

I wake up early enough to finish cleaning the rest of my room. What was left was just small posters and sticky notes I had planted around my mirror and above my bed. I didn’t want to sleep in a totally barren room so I chose to leave those out for the night. But I’m supposed to be leaving soon, leaving forever. 

Now that I’m officially not a part of this company anymore, there’s nothing here for me anymore. 

I zip up my hoodie and don’t bother putting my hair up. I’m not even sure if most of the clothes I threw on are clean but I don’t really care. I don’t feel like taking care of myself right now. 

Since I’m leaving much earlier than expected, I reached out to Keiko who said I could room with her in her studio apartment. Her parents have always been well-off and since I’ve been living off of a trust-fund type deal, I know I can contribute to payments for a few months. Until I can get back on my feet, despite having zero experience from a proper job. So I’m not sure how that’s going to turn out. 

But Keiko is immensely generous. Although her mother was very hesitant with the idea of me staying with her. She heard the news of what happened and wasn’t necessarily on my side. It’s obviously leaked back to Japan but Keiko says my idol status in the states is practically non-existent and I take that as a good thing. K-pop isn’t huge there, I know that. I’ll use that to my advantage for as long as I can. 

I grab my suitcases and open my dorm door, the hallway quiet and dark. I still remember the day I moved in here, the day I put all those posters up and folded my clothes in the drawers. When the boys were assigned to the dorm across from me, when I was underneath that bed with Yoongi. He was so close to me that day. I still remember feeling his breath on me. 

I delay moving down the hall and let go of my suitcases, reaching for the hyung-lines dorm handle. I feel the coldness of the familiar metal I’ve touched so many times before. Never with hesitation like this, risk. It was always so worth it. Every time I snuck in here to sleep with them, every time I came in to have dinner with them like it was an obvious given. 

I turn the handle, finding it unlocked. Just like it always would be, for me. I open it slowly. 

I peak my head into the dorm and see all of them sleeping soundly. And to my surprise they’re all here, even the young ones. They’re scattered around the beds and some on the floor. I look to my left to see Yoongi’s bed with another boy next to him. There’s an empty space I used to sleep between them and it’s calling my name for one last hold from the both of them. 

I tip-toe to the bed and approach Jungkook who is lying on his side, snoring softly. My hands shake as I touch his shoulder, moving it softly. What am I doing? They don’t want me here. But Jesus, I want to hug them all goodbye. It’s so selfish of me to come in here unwanted but I think a part of me will die on that plane if I leave without a proper goodbye.

This is so selfish, it’s so selfish, it’s so-

“Kanako?” His quiet voice speaks. A flashback of the other night hits me, hard. 

“Yes, yes. It’s me.” I try to smile. 

And suddenly, he leaps to wrap his arms around me. I let my hands float in the air, unsure if I should reciprocate. But eventually I bring them down to feel the lines of his body, the bare skin because he always sleeps with his shirt off. He says it gets too hot at night. 

“I love you, Kanako. Come back soon.” He trembles into my neck,  “Please come back soon.” He whispers again. I bite my lip to hold in my cries, smelling his scent one last time. My nose touches the muscle of his shoulder and I hold him tightly. Remember this. Remember how this feels.

“I will, I will.” I reassure him. I see Yoongi toss around in his bed but he doesn’t turn around. Jungkook holds me for a while longer before parting, wiping the tears from his eyes. He looks at Yoongi and then back to me, “He just needs time. We all do. But you'll call me everyday. A-And maybe when I’m older I’ll visit you. And you’ll visit me, right?” He smiles sheepishly. 

I bring my thumb to his cheek, drying off the last tear of his. 

“I’ll visit you.”

I won’t. I’m not sure if I'll bring myself to pick up his calls. But I’ll keep him close. I’ll keep all of them close to me, even Yoongi who I know can’t look at me. Maybe a small part of me will wait for him forever. Wait for him to turn around and look at me one last time. But for now it’s just his back. I never see his face. 

I’ll wait for him, even if he doesn’t wait for me. 

click here to read more of this story!

an: ^^ get ready for cool about it: eleven years later

[inneedofsupervision]

An Enemy? A Friend? No, just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

Chapter 2: Sweet Sixteen

Chap Summary: Peter is busy patrolling and celebrating his special day while the Avengers are still trying to gather information about the red-blue-clad vigilante.

Read on Ao3

"Wake up, Peter."

With the feeling of a hand gently running through his hair, Peter's consciousness slowly emerges from the depths of sleep. Dark eyelashes flutter as the ministration of his curls keeps going, and the teen feels himself going lax as he melts even more into the warmth of his bed. A happy sigh passes his lips, and Peter feels like slipping back to dreamland if the petting of his hair keeps on like that. It seems like the owner of the hand knew that as well. An amused chuckle reaches his ear.

"Just five more minutes, May," mumbles Peter and presses his face into the pillow, not ready to crawl out of his bed when it's this comfortable. He could lay here for the rest of the weekend. 

"Come on, sleepyhead. I want to see your face while you unpack your present before I go to work."

Right. It's already the 10th.

The mob of brown hair moves, and there is some shuffling before a pair of still with sleep-clouded brown eyes gaze up at the woman sitting at the edge of the bed. A slender hand gently cups his cheek as his aunt smiles at him with adoration sparkling in her eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Peter."

He returns her smile before groaning as the blanket gets pulled off of his body, exposing him to the cold. 

"That's evil, May," protests the teen with a whine. His aunt laughs, having none of it as she drops the blanket on the chair next to his desk. Peter reaches his arm out for the blanket. He gives off a pitiful sight as he couldn't get it. May only spares an unimpressed glance at the antics and flicks the lights on. Peter groans in protest while burying his face back into the pillow. 

"I'm hardly one year older and already suffering. You were nicer to me when I was still fifteen- May! Dohohon't!"

Peter kicks his legs out as hands settle on his sides before fingers dig into them, tickling him. The teen quickly rolls onto his back and catches his aunt's hands by the wrists, a grin plastered on his face.

"What was that for?" he asks, amusement playing into his voice. 

"That's what you get for being a drama queen. Now up, with you. We have to eat your birthday cake for breakfast if you don't want to wait until nine in the afternoon."

May frowns at the lopsided grin on Peter's face. She can only shake her head. It takes her one glance at her nephew's face to know he wouldn't turn down the cake at any time of the day. "You won't get cake before going to bed, Peter," she says, although she knew it was hard to keep the teenager from stuffing his face with unhealthy food whenever he got the chance, not bothering to wonder how he doesn't start putting on weight. May pushes it onto the fact that Peter is a teenager, still growing and needing the intake, but she at least tries to establish somewhat healthy eating habits and hopes not coming off as a hypocrite. With her working shifts at the hospital, it takes a lot of discipline and more sleep than she gets to maintain healthy sleep and eating patterns, and she knew Peter started adapting them, hearing his stomach growl all the time, accompanied by dark bags under his eyes.

"Good, because I don't plan to go to bed at nine. That's way too early. Eleven sounds good to me. I mean, I'm sixteen now. Almost an adult - okay, wait! I'm going, I'm going!"

The teenager jumps out of bed and runs past his aunt before she can hit him with his pillow. Peter smiles as he hears his aunt laughing while he dashes to the bathroom. While washing his face, Peter thinks about what to do for the day. May will be working late as one of her co-workers called in sick yesterday. Peter reassured her that he would be fine. He planned to spend the day patrolling before meeting Ned. May did not seem too happy leaving her nephew alone on his birthday, but Peter convinced her to bring some takeout home, telling her he would be okay.  

"Even if we only saw each other ten minutes today, my birthday would be perfect because you are here, and I get to see Ned. And I don't have school today. How cool is that?" They had sat on the couch, watching some rom-com when May had voiced her worries. Aunt May had stilled when he said that, leaving Peter halting the chatter, unsure if he said something wrong before May suddenly leaned in to hug him.

"You are the best boy one can wish for, Peter."

Peter had chuckled, a little surprised but happy about the praise nonetheless. 

"And you are the best aunt one can wish for, May." 

Her arms had pulled him closer, and slender fingers brushed tenderly over his hair before May pulled back slightly, her hands firmly planted on his shoulders. She had looked at him with an unreadable expression before she planted a quick kiss on his forehead. She chuckles as Peter pulls a grimace without meaning it at her display of affection.

"You okay staying alone until dinner?"

"Have I told you that Ned is coming? We will hang out. I'll be alone for only a short time. It's all right."

May had looked slightly more at ease after his words, although not one hundred percent. She tried playing it over by ruffling his hair, a grin on her face. 

"Aren't you mature now?"

He grinned back at her.

"I'm old enough to take driving lessons."

"Oh please, don't remind me of that. That has to wait until you are at least 21 years old."

"You don't trust my driving skills?"

"No, I don't trust your non-existent driving skills."

"Ouch," Peter had said mock-hurt and held a hand over his heart, causing his aunt to laugh. 

"Peter, are you coming?"

May's voice breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he quickly finishes in the bath. The teen stumbles into the kitchen, mismatched socks sliding over the wooden floor in his hurry. Something gets caught in his hair. Peter looks up, brown eyes widening in surprise, when he spots a paper garland hanging from the ceiling, the bold and colorful letters spelling "Happy Birthday." In the middle of their dinner table lays a chocolate cake. The wax candle forming the number sixteen sticks slightly tilted out of the dark chocolate frosting, the bottom half of the numbers sinking into it. May pulls a lighter out of a kitchen drawer. Peter sat down while May lightened the candles before she took a seat across from him.

"Where did you get that?" asks Peter, looking at the cake with a hint of suspicion.

"I made it myself."

His aunt rolled her eyes at the pointed look she received, the teen in front of her not believing a word she said.

"I got it from the bakery around the corner. Before I forget it, Mrs. Clair wishes you a happy birthday. She also asks when you are going to stop by. She would love to see you sometime."

Peter looks up at the mention of the name, nostalgia washing over him. Mrs. Clair had known him since he was a pre-schooler, a shy kid holding his uncle's hand when they came into her homely café. Wide eyes were sparkling with excitement as his uncle lifted him to let his eyes roam over the vast display of sweet treats behind the glass before locking with the eyes of the lady behind the counter, who greeted him with a kind smile.

He fiddles with the fork in his hand. Peter had visited the bakery often, always wearing a toothy grin. After Uncle Ben's death, he had not been there again. Knowing that Mrs. Clair still thought of him, even remembering his birthday, left Peter guilty. The aged woman had never been anything but kind to him, and all he did was not visit her in months. How could Peter explain that it took all of his self-control not to let the heat behind his reddened eyes get the better of him standing in front of the café as memories of happiness he will never gain again break over his head, burying him in a place Peter wasn't sure he could get out off on his own once he got caught. It had gotten better. These floods of emotion breaking on him whenever he thought of Ben had been nearly unbearable in the past. But over time, he could handle them better, although, at times, the sudden dejectedness still pressed down heavily onto his chest, leaving him with a tightness in his throat that made it hard to speak. It's been nearly a year since the incident leading to Uncle Ben passing away. 

Enough time to get over it.

Peter doubts he will ever get over it. 

A hand lays down on top of his, thumb gently rubbing over its back. 

"You don't have to go, Peter."

Although May smiled at him, she couldn't hide the hint of sadness behind her eyes. She had caught up on the conflicted expression passing his face. Sometimes, Peter wondered if there was anyone who could read him as effortlessly as Aunt May or if he was just terrible at hiding his emotions. With her sitting across from him, studying his reaction, the teen felt like he was an open book. 

"I should visit her soon."

For some reason, Aunt May's expression grew sadder at his words. She patted his hand before letting go and gestured towards the cake. 

"If you don't like your cake waxed, you should go on with your

birthday wish."

Grateful for the change of topic, Peter smiles at her playfully.

"You are not open to that kind of culinary experiment?"

May rolls her eyes with a smile, and Peter grins before bending over. He carefully blows at the tiny flame that flickers before it goes out, leaving a small trail of smoke dancing up from the still-glowing candlewick. Peter closes his eyes, ignoring the tickling of smoke in his nose. He opens his eyes to the sight of May holding a dark brown envelope with a silver gift ribbon carefully wrapped around it.  

"Happy Birthday, Peter."

Peter glances up at his aunt. May nods encouragingly, gesturing for him to go on. The teen runs his fingers over the paper before carefully tearing it open, mindful of not accidentally damaging its content. He slips his thumb and index finger into the envelope, grasping the card sitting on the inside. 

"Is that-" the words get stuck in his throat. There is a generic happy birthday card greeting him, but what caught his attention was the ticket slipping out of the card as he pulled it out of the envelope. Peter stares at it in wonder before raising his head. Aunt May had watched his reaction with amusement.

"May, this is a ticket for the Stark Industries Future-Of-Energy Mess!"

"I hope it is. I heard my nephew wanted to go there."

Peter ignored May's joke in favor of jumping from his seat. He circled the table in two seconds, wrapping his arms around his aunt's neck before thanking her profusely. 

"Thank you so much, Aunt May! It's so great. I really love it, thanks. I can't wait to tell Ned about this. He's going to flip!"

Aunt May pats his back with a laugh. 

"I'm happy you like it, Peter."

"Like doesn't even put it. May, this is absolutely awesome!"

May smiles at the open display of excitement. Peter went on about how great the present was while she cut the cake, placing large pieces on both plates. She began to eat when Peter's face suddenly fell, eyes flickering up to meet hers. May raises an eyebrow in question while chewing on the tad too sweet cake.

Peter bites the inside of his cheek before glancing back down at his present.

"This must have been expensive."

"Oh, Peter. Don't worry about it. You only have a birthday once a year, and I want you to enjoy it."

It takes a smile of hers to make him trust her words. Peter carefully puts the ticket back into the envelope, the present too precious to get accidentally stained with chocolate cake. He lays it to the side before picking up the fork, barely containing his excitement as he glances at the envelope. He had been talking about the Mess with Ned for weeks, and now he'd visit it!

May watches the teen taking a piece of his birthday cake, eyes lightening up as he chews on it, a smile forming on his lips. Their eyes meet.

"It tastes great, May."

"I'm glad to hear that. What do you want to eat later?"

Peter ponders over the answer before a grin finds a way on his face.

"How about Thai?"

----------------------------------------------

"Hey, Ned."

"Hi, Peter! At what time should I come?"

"I'm done at four if that's cool?"

"Sure, four is good. By the way, where are you now? It's kinda loud in the back."

"Ehm, gimme a sec," Peter glances down from the top of the steel stilt he's perching on, phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder. He took a glance at the bypassing mass of cars and buses. "I'm at Queensborrow Bridge. You are right. It's kinda noisy here."

"What are you doing up there?"

"Oh, the usual, you know. A tired of life eight years old, a bet, too many energy drinks, and lots of boredom."

"I need the details of that. Sounds wild, dude."

"You'll get them. See you later, Ned."

"See you, Peter!"

Peter glances at his phone, checking the time before slipping it back into his backpack. He zips it and sprays a tiny amount of webbing onto the stopper, not wanting the content out of his bag sailing through the air mid-swing. Having to apologize to a man who nearly got a concussion by Peter's history book hitting against the back of his head had been embarrassing enough to keep him from repeating that mistake. He also wasn't ready to get questioned about why Spiderman owns suspiciously many schoolbooks for someone the public presumes to be an adult. Peter shoulders the bag, pulling the straps tight before leaping off the bridge. It takes him less than a minute until he's back in the center of Queens, streets buzzing at the foot of the building he's standing on. 

"Look, it's Spiderman!"

"Spidey!"

The teen gives a two-finger salute at the people pointing and waving at him as he swings his way through Queens. Most of Spiderman's work happens after the sun settles. Not that Peter could complain. It doesn't matter to him if he retrieves balloons, saves kittens out of trees, or helps lost little children get back to their panicking parents during the day. He was happy as long as he could help.

"Can you tell me where you last saw your parents?"

Teary blue eyes gaze up at him. Peter crouches down to get on eye level with the lost boy he found wandering through the shopping streets, gently squeezing the small hand that clutches onto his gloved one. 

"I- I can't remember!" 

Peter grimaces in sympathy as the boy's breath hitches. Soon, big tears start running down reddened cheeks, and the boy's shoulders jump as he begins sobbing into the crock of his sleeve.

 

"Hey, it's alright. We'll find your mom and dad. Pinky promise."

He tilted his head as he held his hand out, stretching his thumb for the boy to take. Peter receives a puzzled expression, the crying boy staring silently at the thumb in front of him that Peter wiggles for good measure.

"You don't want to make a pinky promise?"

Peter wriggles the finger again, earning another questioning gaze from the child. 

"Mr. Spiderman, Sir, that's not your pinky finger."

Peter leans back and makes a show of looking at his hand as if it had offended him at a personal level. He lightly knocks his hand against his forehead in acting dramatics, shaking his head.

"Silly me, how could I make a pinky promise with my thumb? Here, let's try that again."

He grins when a giggle slips past the boy's lips as he holds out his index finger this time. The boy's lips curl into a smile while wiping the last tracks of tears from his cheeks. 

"That's not your pinky finger either!" he protests with a laugh. Peter grins under the mask, ignoring the curious gazes of people thrown their way as he crouches in front of the boy.

"What? It isn't?" Peter asks in disbelief.

The boy shakes his head with another giggle coaxed out of him as Spiderman's white eyes squint together again as he glances at his hand with mock offense. Feeling more at ease, the boy reaches out for the hand but glances up at the vigilante, who gives him a short nod. The boy takes Peter's hand and makes him stretch his pinky, pushing the other fingers back down to make place. Peter's smile is hidden behind the red fabric of the mask as a tiny pinky wraps around his own, squeezing slightly. He swings their connected hands back and forth. "It's strictly necessary for sealing the deal," he tells the successfully cheered-up boy before standing up.

"Now that we made a promise, it's time to look out for your parents, alright?"

The child gives him a nod. They begin to walk through the street, Peter asking the boy what his mom and dad look like while concentrating his senses, looking out for the sound of probably very distressed parents looking for their son. While walking, Peter notices a petit shoulder occasionally bumping against his hip as the boy shuffles closer, glancing around with large eyes, sidestepping whenever someone threatens to brush past him a little too close. Peter couldn't blame the skittish behavior. Just imagining getting lost as a child, probably not even in primary school, on the bustling street of New York leaves the teen with an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

"You know," begins Peter, glancing at the kid. "There is a secret I like to share with you."

"A secret?"

Peter smiles, slightly amused at the now undivided attention of blue eyes on him. 

"Yes, a secret about Spiderman. Would you tell me your name before that? I need to know who I'm telling one of my biggest secrets. But you have to promise not to tell anyone. It's something I'm only sharing with you, okay?"

"It's Liam, Sir. And I won't tell anyone. I'll promise, Mr. Spidey, Sir!"

Peter bites his lip to keep from chuckling at the now very excited boy who had been more than a little timed just a moment before. He bends down and winks the child closer. He holds his hand next to his mouth to act more secretive, loving the excitement in the boy's eyes. 

"Like I said, Liam, you cannot tell anyone about this," he begins to whisper but loud enough for the boy's ears to pick over the noise of the shopping district. If Peter learned something from playing with Ned's little sister is, that children love secrets. And superheroes. Liam's excited expression told him that the little boy was no exception. 

"My secret is that I get very nervous around people."

Liam's eyes widen as he looks up at the vigilante as if he can't believe there could be something a hero like Spiderman could be nervous about.

"You get nervous, too?" Liam asks, sounding surprised. "But why? Are you afraid of people?" the boy asks, his voice barely over a whisper, careful, not wanting to reveal his hero's secret to unwanted listeners.

Peter shrugs his shoulder. "Not strictly of people. But I'm not great at dealing with the noise and crowds." 

The boy glances around after Spiderman's words, taking in the mass of people walking past their place next to an ice cream parlor. His little face turns into a frown. He looks back at the vigilante, who had straightened up again. 

"But there are so many people right here? Will you get sick if you are around them?"

"I won't get sick, but it makes me somewhat anxious. Silly, right?"

The boy is quick to shake his head vehemently at his words. "It's not silly. Dad always says that being scared is nothing to be ashamed of. It is your brain telling you to be careful. Or something like that. Maybe your brain works differently. Because you're Spiderman, you know? You have to be more careful than everyone else, right?"

Peter doesn't feel like correcting Liam that he didn't say he was scared of people, but he decided to leave it. He had managed what he wanted to achieve, getting the boy to loosen up a little, and that is all that matters. Although, Liam's words gave him something to think about. Does he have to be more careful? His eyes wander towards the bypassing masses, skipping from face to face before shaking his head. 

He is the one with the inhuman powers. If anyone would feel the need to be nervous, it was anyone else but him. Of course, Peter wants to avoid anyone feeling afraid of him. He only has the New Yorkers' safety and well-being in mind, but at least he could understand if someone felt nervous around him and not the other way around. It felt surreal to think that someone like him would need to be more careful, to have a justification other than excessive overthinking to feel anxious about people. It would be more than difficult for any person to physically hurt him, not even taking his enhanced healing factor into account. But still, something about Liam's words stuck with him. Maybe he should talk with Ned about that.

"There is a way to help me with the nervousness, but I would need your help if that's alright with you?"

"I can help Mr. Spiderman? What do I do?"

At the prospect of helping the vigilante, Liam's eyes sparkle with unhidden excitement, his voice growing louder. Peter grins under the mask.

"Would you hold onto my hand while we look for your parents?"

"Hold your hand?" The boy tilts his head as he looks at the teen in question. Peter nods.

"Yes. It would make me less nervous."

A smile grows on the boy's face. "I can do that," he says with confidence, chest puffed out as he looks up. Peter's grin only grows.

"That's very kind of you. Thanks for helping me out here, Liam."

The boy's head bops up and down as he nods enthusiastically, blond curls jumping at the movement. "Mr. Spiderman always helps people. But now you can take a break, and I'll help you instead, right?"

"You got it, buddy. I'm sure with your help, we will find your parents."

"Of course!"

Peter doesn't have to say anything as a small hand finds its way around his, holding onto it tightly. It was as if the boy had forgotten to feel intimidated by the mass of people brushing past the unique pair, excitement evident on his face. His little head turns to face Peter, a smile reaching up to his eyes. 

"Are you ready, Mr. Spiderman?"

Peter squeezes the small hand before throwing the child a thumb up, mirroring the smile behind the mask.

"You'll lead the way, bud."

------------------------------------------------

"I still don't get why his rise in popularity leads to the Avengers having to look into the guy. You would assume that after ten months running around in New York in that get-up, SHIELD has at least some information about him. There are forums on the internet providing more info about the guy than this."

Sam pushes the grey folder, holding not more than four pieces of paper with barely any information, away from him with a sigh. The report, if you can call it that, holds few, if not any, additional information about the arachnid-themed vigilante. Not to mention that page four includes only a collection of grainy pictures that show a blur of something flying past a building and that something holding hardly the shape of a person. If it weren't for the vibrant red and blue, Sam wouldn't have thought about Spiderman being in the picture, but even then, you had to squint and throw a spark of fantasy into the mix to make out a person. Even the Daily Bugle has better pictures of Spiderman. To make matters worse, those images provided by the Budgle are probably the result of some underpaid college lads who hung outside all day to catch the Spider-Guy on screen and collect a few bucks to pay for their stay in some overpriced apartment in the middle of New York. 

A metal arm reaches for the folder, and a curtain of dark tangled hair falls over Bucky's face, successfully hiding the sharp feature of a jawline from Sam's sight as the ex-assassin takes the chance to skim over the information written on unnecessary bright bleached paper. 

"It astounding how you still had hope that SHIELD could do any good at gathering information. I'm unsure if I should be touched or concerned for the faith."

"Shove it, Stark," replied Sam with a roll of his eyes but getting caught off guard when Steve stepped forward from where he had leaned against the wall, closing the distance between him and the billionaire with assertive steps. He watches how the blond towers over Stark, who leans back into his chair. The latter merely glanced at the taller over the edge of his dark purple-tinted sunglasses, an eyebrow raised in a silent dare. 

"Huh. What's with the sudden temper tantrum, Captain? Does the loyalty to your former employer bother you? Don't worry, Cap. Even SHIELD's underlings can't deny that they did poor work."

The two spies sitting across from Stark don't show a sign of getting provoked by the sharp stab at SHIELD's competence, the Black Widow merely raising an eyebrow while Hawkeye only stares at the man with an emotionless expression. Sam watches with an unsettling feeling how Steve's jaw clenches in suppressed frustration. It doesn't go unnoticed by the sharp eyes of Tony Stark, whose lips give a minuscule twitch in amusement. 

"SHIELD helped save the world, Stark. You aren't in the position to disrespect their work," presses the blond between his teeth, clearly trying to force himself to keep calm. Stark tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms over his chest while his foot bops up and down where it lies over his leg, showcasing the man's incapability to stay still, the complete opposite of Captain America's almost frozen stance. 

"Did they? That's funny. The last time I remember someone saving a planet, it had been me, flying a nuke into space." 

"Did your ego expand into space while you were out there?" asks Hawkeye, the first sentence he bought out since they gathered in the conference room. 

"It had already been there, Barton," quips Stark back without hesitation, turning to face Hawkeye, wearing his signature thousand-watt smile, usually reserved for the press and business. Steve steps forward and grabs the back of Stark's chair, pulling it back to force the man to face him, earning a surprised huff, but Stark's face morphs back to his overconfident mask of played indifference in a split second. 

Sam catches a movement from the super soldier on his right out of the corner of his eyes, drawing his attention away from Stark and Rogers and onto Barnes, whose hands are clenching tightly around the folder as Steve's voice picks up in volume. Muscles of the flesh arm are bulging under restrained tension that seems to build up inside the man. Sam begins feeling slightly wary of the mood inside the room, catching himself wishing for Colonel Rhodes to be here to refrain Stark from provoking everyone and everything he could get a raise off. Steve, who is painfully unaware that raising his voice contributes to thickening the tension inside the conference room, is now openly glaring at Stark. His patience with the billionaire has seemed to reach the end of the line. 

"Instead of picking a fight, why don't you try to provide something after spending time overseas while the rest of the team had been working."

Stark raised an eyebrow as he leaned back into the seat, silently assessing the criticism. He gives the man above a calculating look before his lip tugs upward. Without taking his eyes away from the scowl plastered across Roger's face, Stark speaks to his AI.

"Friday, show them the results of yesterday's search."

"Right away, Sir."

The large black screen at the head of the room springs to life on its own while Stark's AI simultaneously begins spitting down facts at the people around the table. Sam blinks at the sudden input, having missed the first two sentences of the monotonous voice rattling down information out of hidden speakers, and quickly tries to catch on.

"- between 5'6 and 5'8, estimated weight around 142 lbs." 

"Hold on a second," interrupts Barton, throwing Stark a look. 

"142 lbs for a grown man? Spidey sure is a lightweight."

Stark only raises an eyebrow as if silently asking if Barton stopped his AI from showing off his research to declare a seemingly unnecessary observation. Sam silently agrees with Hawkeye. 142 lbs isn't much for a grown man, but 5'6 wasn't very tall either. Sam reminds himself that the voice had been speaking about estimated height and weight. They couldn't take them for facts. While he was thinking about it, with what kind of sources did Stark's AI work to come to these numbers?

He got an answer to that a moment later as pictures of the vigilante are shown one after another on the screen, and although there are various degrees in quality, all of them are above what SHIELD had shown them. The sources seemed to vary from security feeds to pictures posted online and taken by the people of New York, who got the luck of catching sight of the man in red and blue spandex. There were even pictures of the vigilante throwing a piece sign, clearly aware of his picture getting taken. Sam was inwardly about to admit that Stark did his research, without a doubt having contributed the most until now, much against Rogers charging, when the AI decided to cap it all off by showing video material.

"Did you hack security feeds?" asks Rogers, now obviously sounding pissed. Stark merely shrugs his shoulder.

"Calm down, Capsicle. Some of these videos are from various social media platforms and thus available to everyone who cares to spare a glance. You know what a social media platform is, right? Small bluebird and lots of yelling in capital letters? Are any bells ringing? No? Color me surprised."

Rogers looks ready to grab the man by the throat when a voice catches the attention of every person in the room.

"I know it's a nice day to ride your bike in overcrowded streets, but maybe you should use your own and not steal one?"

Barton's eyes grow wide as he looks at Stark, who is wearing a smug grin.

"You have him on video with audio?"

"Well, I thought about contributing something to the team. Nothing special." Sam wants to snatch the folder off Barnes's hands to throw it in the billionaire's face if he could wipe off that stupidly complacent smirk.

They turn their heads back towards the screen where Spiderman currently stretches his hand out to shoot a white string against a young man's back who was about to swing his leg over a very expensive-looking bike, obviously trying to make a run for it.

"I hope that didn't come out of him," mutters Sam with his face pulled into a grimace as he watches in bizarre fascination how the vigilante shoots another string at the man before giving a powerful pull. The man stumbles back and lets go of the bike. With an unexpected quickness, the group watched how a blur of blue and red circled the man, the string seeming to stick against him as soon as it made contact and rendering him immobile in a second before shooting a hand out and catching the bike at the handlebar before it can get a scratch. The vigilante carefully leans the bike against the wall before turning towards the man, who tries again to run even with his arms bound tightly against his waist.

"Hey, wait!"

Sam raises his eyebrow as the man in the video stops at Spiderman's words, his expression showing he's just as surprised to follow the command. The vigilante holds his hands up in a non-threatening gesture, not making any move closer to the thief. If Sam hadn't seen the guy move with inhuman speed and shoot weirdly robust strings from his wrists just a moment before, he would also have assumed Spiderman to be pretty harmless. If standing still, his arms raised in a sign of not meaning to harm, the man doesn't radiate an ounce of ill-meaning. 

"If you decide to run, let me tell you, I will catch you again. I know you won't like it, but we both know I have no other choice but to call the police," begins Spiderman and nods towards the expensive bike.

"But," the man continues, still holding his hands up to show he means no harm. "I can promise they will be more lenient if you don't try to run. I'll even wait here with you and talk to them."

Barton snorts at the words coming from the vigilante but does not take his eyes off the screen. "Wanna bet he'll run?"

Nobody answers as they watch the man staring at Spiderman with nothing but bewilderment, who waits patiently for an answer. "Told you so," says the spy with a grin as the tied-up man bolts, rushing past Spiderman. 

"Aww, seriously? That's the fourth time this week," groans the masked man before leaping after the thief. The camera loses track of the men, growing slightly out of focus before reassessing the quality of the now empty street. Sam leans forward, eyes squinting as he glances at the screen, listening closely to the sounds caught by the security record outside the camera's reach. He barely suppresses a flinch as something rushes past the lens out of the blue, startling not only him as he catches Rogers and Barnes twitching at the movement, if only for a minuscule moment.

Spiderman is back on screen shortly after, making quick progress with the thief. The latter didn't get the chance to grasp what was coming for him. The bound man could only shout in surprise as a string attached to his leg caused him to fall. He stumbles forward, but before he can hit the concrete, Spiderman is next to him, webbing him up, and in a blur of a moment, the thief is dangling upside down off a lamppost. The group silently observes how the vigilante on the screen pulls a phone out of a hidden pocket and informs the police. He pockets the mobile and glances at the man above before shaking his head.

"To be honest," says Spiderman while leaning back against the lamppost with his arms crossed over his chest, whole posture relaxed as if he were talking to an acquaintance rather than a criminal he somehow had thrown over a 9-foot tall lantern post. "I expected you'd run, but it still hurts my feelings. Is it the mask?"

The man throws the vigilante a puzzled glance. Sam can only empathize with the thief, just as confused by Spiderman's word vomit. 

"The mask," repeats Spiderman, a hint of impatience in his voice, and makes a circular motion in front of his face. "Is it too creepy? It's the eyes, right? Oh man, someone told me the eyes would freak people out. I can hear them tell me I told you so." Said white eyes squint into thin lines as Spiderman mutters to himself, "Nothing sucks as much as an I-told-you-so."

Sam feels like getting whiplash listening to the vigilante. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly was not the flood of nonsense coming out from under the mask. 

"Good lord, he's worse than Stark," mutters Barnens next to him, earning a side glance from said man and a snort from Barton. 

"They aren't creepy."

Spiderman's head snaps towards the man above, tilted to the side as he glances at him.

"You mean it?"

Oh god, does the guy sound young asking that? Sam had thought Spiderman would be a man in his thirties and just on the smaller side, but how his voice carries genuine curiosity and somewhat maybe close to insecurity leaves Sam thinking he couldn't be older than a college student. Apparently, the man still hanging down shares similar thoughts as he nods, assuring the vigilante shortly after that his mask was not the reason he ran. Spiderman visibly relaxes at the words.

"That's good to know. I can't have people freak out on me cause the suit is scary. It would be a little counterproductive. Well, I should go. The police will be here soon." Spiderman steps away from the lamp, arm stretched outward and probably planning to shoot one of those weird strings again when the man calls for him.

"Wait! You're going?"

Spiderman turns his head, tilting his head quizically at the man before giving a slight nod. "Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging. Not for long. The police will be here soon, and I kinda have somewhere to be, so-"

"Can you at least pull me up? I feel like my head is going to explode."

The vigilante on screen stays silent. Sam wonders if he will ignore the man before Spiderman crosses his arms over his chest. "You should have thought about that before stealing a bike and running. Twice."

"Please, Spiderman! Sir!"

Spiderman freezes in his step before he slowly turns to face the man entirely. He points at himself before looking around but finds no one besides himself near the lanternpost before his white eyes focus on the thief. "Sir?" repeats the vigilante as if the words were unknown to him as he lets it roll over his tongue.

"He's going to help him."

Sam glances at Black Widow, eyebrow raised at her words. She had not taken her eyes off the screen, an unreadable expression on her face, but Sam knew behind that lies a mind working overtime, pulling all the experience of her spy career to analyze the vigilante. Sam focuses back on the screen where Spiderman had turned his back towards the man. He stood right in line for the camera, feet raised to take a step away from the man, the latter still calling for help.

And just like Romanoff predicted, Spiderman couldn't let it go. Unaware of it, Sam's lips raise as he watches the vigilante's shoulders slump in defeat, the man probably rolling his eyes behind the white fabric. Sam's smile freezes before his face contorts into a mix of simultaneously impressed and taken by surprise. Without further notice, Spiderman jumps backward in a leap, defying gravitation and any norm a human should be possible to jump, skilfully bringing his knees closer to perform a neat backflip. While in motion, he shoots a string against the thief's chest and uses the momentum of his jump to pull the man upwards. Spiderman lands with practiced ease on top of the lantern. He attaches the string there before clapping his hands together. The recording cuts at that part, and Sam stares blankly at the blackened screen before tearing his eyes away.

"Are there more recordings like these, Stark?"

If the man in question is surprised by the question coming from Barnes, out of all people, he doesn't let it show. But it was hard reading Stark with him constantly wearing his tinted sunglasses to every meeting. 

"This one is by far the longest. The others are short instances of the Spider web-slinging through the city or climbing trees to save kittens."

Sam thought it was one of Stark's jokes, but the billionaire, for once, looked serious saying that. 

"Of course, he saves kittens out of trees," mumbles Barton under his breath, and Sam would have laughed and agreed with the sentiment if it didn't feel so out of place. It was Steve's voice that brought them back to the reason they were here.

"What have we gathered so far?"

"Apart from the obvious quirkiness and a moral compass close to Captain America's?" asks Barton with an amused grin.

"We still don't know if his powers come from the suit or the man himself," says Sam, wanting to get this meeting over with, not planning to stay longer than strictly necessary. 

"I have sent the video material and the rest of the sources to Bruce. He said the chances are high of Spiderman being a mutant. On the other hand, if his powers come from the suit, whoever had developed it must be a genius lying under the radar. It would be a rather impressive feat to create a suit that seems to be nothing more than spandex to pull off what we have just witnessed. Personally, I also stick to the idea of Spidey being a mutant rather than a hidden tech genius."

"You're saying you couldn't build something like that? Someone is smarter than Tony Stark?" mocks Barton, but the billionaire doesn't even pull a face at the unmistakable provocation.

"I never said I couldn't create a suit like that. I merely hinted that it's unlikely someone had created something like it without anyone in the business getting wind of it. Words travel fast among geniuses. Not that you would be aware, Barton."

Barton merely shrugs his shoulder at the insult. 

"According to witness reports and forums on the internet, Spiderman owns inhuman strength, speed, agility, and he sticks."

"He does what?" asks Sam, probably having misheard. Stark gives him a pointed look, not amused to have to repeat himself. 

"He sticks to all kinds of surfaces. Friday."

Without needing to elaborate, the screen flickers to live again, showing pictures of Spiderman holding himself up several stories high. Glancing closer, Sam noticed Stark had been right. Spiderman holds himself up with only his hands and feet plastered against the glass of the window of an office building. 

"Now I wish his powers come from the suit. That guy starts freaking me out. First, the strings, and now the wall-crawling. If we have to work together, someone should tell him to turn the spider theme down at least a little bit."

Sam feels like he hit his head against a brick wall as he listens to Barton's words. While watching and discussing Spiderman, he had completely forgotten that part of the mission. 

"Do we have to work with him?"

He had meant it to be a mutter to himself, a slip of self-pity, but his words echo through the suddenly silent conference room, drawing five pairs of eyes on him. Sam watches with a sense of dread how Stark pushes himself out of his seat, a grin forming on his face.

"Now," the suit-dressed man begins, rubbing his hands together in glee, "who wants to be the first to go out and talk to the Spider?" He lets his eyes wander over the indifferent faces of the room before locking with Sam, his grin widening.

"I think we have a candidate."

Sam let out a curse.

[trashywormeateroffics]

The right universe.

Summary: After Y/N's life turns upside down, she's full of grief. Somehow, one day, she manages to travel to the MCU, where she meets her favorite characters, including a certain god who seems willing to establish a friendship with her. Suddenly she's enwrapped in this new world, where everything she loved in a screen is now reality. How will she react? Will she be able to deal with the ghosts that haunt her? Or will she let them consume her? Will she be open to accept the love she is offered? Read to find out!

Read this on AO3!

Category: F/M.

Relationships: Loki/reader.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James “Bucky” Barnes, Vision (Marvel), Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, other minor appearances of other characters but these are the main ones, Pepper Potts, Loki (Marvel).

Additional tags: Loki/reader - Freeform, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluffyfest, Slow Burn, Friends to lovers, Mutual Pining, Pining a lot because we love to suffer, Domestic Avengers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is a parental figure, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Everyone is a good bro, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, y/n, After Infinity War but no one died and the purple bitch was defeated, Missions, Y/N is a universe traveler, Grief, Therapy, Protective Loki (Marvel), Loki in love.

MASTERLIST OF THE STORY

Chapter 54: The plan.

Loki and Y/N looked at each other and nodded. Then they entered the cell.

“Hi Sarah.” Y/N said.

“Y/N,” Sarah seemed surprised to see her. “What… What are you doing here?”

“You were right. About Sigyn.”

“How did you-”

“It doesn't matter.” She cut her off. “What matters is what you know.”

“I don't know that much…” Sarah said, clearly lying.

“Sarah… Ingrid. I know you are scared, not only for you but for your son. I promise you, we will protect the both of you. But you need to help us, otherwise we won't be able to.”

The woman seemed to ponder about it for a few moments before she sighed and opened her mouth to speak.

“Before I say anything, where is Jeremiah?”

“He's with us, we are all taking care of him. He is alright, just misses his mother.” Sarah seemed to be saddened at that. “Maybe we can bring him here tomorrow, for a little visit.”

“Thank you.” Y/N's expression softened.

“No problem.”

Sarah sighed.

“The person who first contacted my parents about the organization was her. Everything was her. The thing is… she needed a face. And she offered my parents enough money to make it worth it. That happened when I was about four or five.” Loki and Y/N listened attentively. “Ever since I can remember she has been saying that one day she was going to do it.” She looked at Y/N. “One day she was going to get rid of her ungrateful sister, her undeserving sister. Of course I only found out that the sister was you when you came into this universe.”

“So, you've known the whole time who I was?” Y/N asked her.

“Yes.” She looked guilty. “It was all part of the plan. Befriend you, then betray you. Make her look like the hero when she attempted to sacrifice herself to fight us.”

“So, she never got hurt?”

“It was all an illusion.”

Y/N felt her heart sink. She had done it on purpose, she made her worry on purpose. She had listened to everything she said and didn't even care. She was a two-faced liar.

“Darling?”

“I'm fine.” She shook her head. “I just can't… believe it. I mean, I do believe it but I just can't believe it.”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed, and she smiled softly at him. Then he got closer to her ear.

“It is not your fault.” He said in a low voice, so only she would hear. Y/N pursed her lips and nodded.

“So how…is she planning to get rid of her sister?” She asked, biting her lip nervously after.

“All the enhanced individuals, she's planning to use them for war.”

“But we already rescued them and the workers all left or died.”

“No Y/N, the workers are the enhanced individuals, they are the ones with a part of her powers, the people you rescued were just people caught in the crossfire. And they didn't leave, they just pretended they did.”

“So she has an army of enhanced individuals who have the power of Sigyn of Asgard. Great, just fantastic.” She said sarcastically.

“You need to kill her.”

“What?!” She widened her eyes. “No, I just… we will just imprison her.”

“She will never stop, you need to kill her.” Sarah told her. “You need to use the dagger of death. You have to kill a god.”

————————————

“So, that’s what Sarah said. Ingrid, sorry.” She shook her head.

“What is a dagger of death?” Steve asked.

“It is an old Asgardian relic,” Thor told him and the rest of the avengers that were in the meeting room, “but it burned in Ragnarok.”

“Can’t we just get another one?” Y/N asked.

“It was forged in Nidavellir and enchanted by our sister, the goddess of death, Hela.” Loki answered her.

“And Hela is…” Steve began saying, waiting for one of the Asgardian brothers to finish.

“Dead… in Hel.” Loki told him.

Everyone sat there in silence, until Y/N broke it.

“Guys, this might sound very stupid but… has any of you watched Lucifer the tv show?”

Everyone stayed silent and she took that as a no.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Natasha asked.

“I might have a plan.”