#{{ yeah i have to meet w him again this upcoming monday…. }}

[iiudex]

okay hi mental suffocating session is over i can breathe & think properly now :] regularly scheduled workflow shall begin tomorrow

#— stinky.exe #tw: religious trauma #{{ -> for the ramble im abt to put in tags }} #{{ yeah im forced to regularly meet w someone on mondays }} #{{ bc no matter how uncomfortable i am i cant give an essay length reason as to why im uncomfy }} #{{ & this is ky nobody cares abt anyone’s boundaries ever }} #{{ & he’s p much been forcing & insisting that i do things to try & believe in god }} #{{ & im questioned abt them every week so i cant NOT do them & i can only come up w so many lies }} #{{ so it really just took me back to being incredibly sheltered and having christianity SHOVED down my throat }} #{{ i never believed in god but everyone else did so i must be crazy i must be a maniac and should be treated like one!!!! }} #{{ i could never think for myself & all my thoughts felt disjointed & didnt even feel like my own }} #{{ anyways yeah i was just very harshly reminded of that & began to feel like that again }} #{{ but thankfully i’m older & more isolated & dont have as many people yelling at me abt it }} #{{ so i could ground myself faster }} #{{ yeah i have to meet w him again this upcoming monday…. }} #{{ so im just finally gonna put my foot down & be like ‘bro i DONT want this’ }}

[space-------kid]

hi there!! I really love your genya fics they make my heart feel so full 😭 i was just wondering if you could write kimetsu academy genya w the reader going supporting his shooting competitions + dragging sanemi along to prove that genya has incredible skill 💗 tysmm

Thank you so much!!! 😭💕💕💕

I’m sorry this took a while (this request is so cute OMG OMG OMG), but I hope you enjoy this! 💕💕💕 

Also, thanks to everyone who submitted a request! I hope I managed to put a smile on your faces with my writing! Thank you so much!  💕💕💕💕 💕 💕💕

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭, 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝒮𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓏𝓊𝑔𝒶𝓌𝒶 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

               “The shooting competition’s gonna be next week, isn’t it?”

               Genya tears his gaze off the target to look at [Name]. She sits on the audience stands, elbows resting on her knees and her palms cupping her chin. The way she glows with admiration while she watches him during morning practice sends Genya’s heart aflutter, and he’s filled with the need to impress her even more. Shyly, he gives her a confirmatory nod and turns to face the target again.

               “Yeah,” he tells her as he lines up another shot. He pulls the trigger and the crack of the gunshot reverberates in the training area. He hears [Name]’s delighted gasp, clapping her hands while Genya smiles with pride upon seeing that he hits the bull’s eye a third time.

               “I’ll make another banner and little flags for you, then!” [Name] exclaims, hopping off the bench and making her way to him. She picks up his towel and offers to wipe the sweat off Genya’s forehead with another of her lovely, bright smiles. He leans down so she can reach his face.

               “You really shouldn’t bother, you know…” he tells her quietly, face red from the proximity and how gently she dabs at his forehead with the towel. “And besides, nii-chan won’t even come to watch like the usual… Remember what happened last time when the school gave me an award?”

               [Name]’s expression falls at the memory. Genya has been so shaken that day, humiliation and pain fighting for dominance on his face when Shinazugawa-sensei ripped the certificate and told the former that he ought to focus on his studies – especially Maths – instead.

               It hurt her, how Shinazugawa-sensei doesn’t even seem to care about his own brother. She remembers how full of confidence Genya has been during practices and the competition itself, and how he even forgot his shyness when he gave her a hug after being crowned the champion for all three clay shooting categories. He isn’t the type to brag, but [Name] recalls how Genya – lavender eyes shining with pride – wondered how proud Sanemi-san might be of his achievements.

               It all crumbles during that day Kimetsu Academy organized an event to award certain students for their achievements in different competitions.

               Genya’s sympathizers may have increased and showed their support openly since that day, but [Name] knows that only Shinazugawa-sensei’s matters the most to him.

               “Don’t worry, Genya-kun,” she consoles him with a reassuring smile, a plan already hatching in her mind. “I’m sure your nii-chan will come around.”

--

               “Oi, [Surname].”

               “Yes, Shinazugawa-sensei?”

               The white-haired Maths teacher gives [Name] an appraising look as she stands by the doorway of the staff room, hands folded in front of her and her [colour] eyes gleaming with a mixture of worry and curiosity at being summoned. She hopes she hasn’t done anything to earn his ire – not when she’s working hard with her plans to convince the older Shinazugawa brother to come to Genya’s shooting competition next week.

               “You’re the Public Speech Club’s ace, aren’t you?” Shinazugawa-sensei asks her, folding his arms over his chest while he leans against the doorway.

               “Um, y-yes…?” [Name] replies hesitantly, still unused to the sudden attention she’s been showered with lately. She has been one of the students who are awarded alongside Genya by the school upon snagging the gold medal Kimetsu Academy’s Public Speech Club has long coveted in the interschool public speaking competitions. Rengoku-sensei is assigned to oversee the club’s participation in competitions, and she wonders why Shinazugawa-sensei summoned her for it.

               “Rengoku’s on a sick leave and he asked me to take over your practices until he returns,” Shinazugawa-sensei tells her, frowning at her diffident response. “I want you to transcribe and give me a hard copy of your speech in your previous competition.”

               “Yes, sensei!” [Name] replies, inwardly thankful that Genya has taken a video of her performance when he came to watch and support her like she does with him. She will just have to ask him to send her a copy of the video.

               Speaking of Genya—

               “Um, Shinazugawa-sensei?”

               “Yeah?”

               [Name] fidgets, looking down in embarrassment to avoid her teacher’s piercing gaze. Genya has told her that his nii-chan already knows about their mutual feelings for each other, and despite not being an official couple yet, she suddenly feels shy about asking Shinazugawa-sensei to come and watch Genya’s competition in the upcoming week.

               “Spit it out already, [Surname],” the Maths teacher tells her but not – surprisingly – unkindly. [Name] meets his gaze and sees the impassivity on the usually ticked off older Shinazugawa brother.

               “I-I…!” she blurts out, now standing at attention. Her cheeks turn red at the amused look her future older brother teacher is giving her.

               (Out of all his students, Shinazugawa-sensei seems to be tolerant and kind enough towards [Name]. No one knows that the reason for this is that he sees how supportive, kind, and patient she is towards his brother – but of course he won’t tell anyone that.)

               “Sensei, Genya’s shooting competition will be held Thursday next week,” [Name] says, her expression seeming to say it’s now or never. “Do you want to come and watch–“

               Shinazugawa-sensei rolls his eyes at her and turns away dismissively. “You should be worrying about your own upcoming competition, brat. You’re dismissed.”

               “But sensei–!”

               He looks at her, eyes narrowed with an expression she can’t name. “Drop it, [Surname]. And tell that moron to quit already. He barely even passed last time’s quiz.”

               Worry fills [Name]’s entire being. It’s her first time asking, and she’s already been shot down! What will she tell Genya?

               She turns around and leaves, hands clenched at her sides. [Name] can’t believe herself – why does she think that way? The first is not the only opportunity given to her to ask. There’s still a second, a third! If she wants to see Genya happy and for Shinazugawa-sensei to witness how skilled the former is, then why is she being disheartened at being shot down?

               Heart set with fiery determination, she turns to the direction of the staff room and pumped her fists. “Telling me to drop it won’t do, Shinazugawa-sensei! I’ll ask you a hundred – no, a thousand times if I have to! I’ll do anything to prove to you that Genya is outstanding at what he does! Just you wait–“

               “No shouting in the hallways,” comes a cold voice from behind [Name], her face turning pale at the sight of the Chemistry teacher glaring at her.

               “I’m sorry, Iguro-sensei!” she yells and bows at him, sprinting off out of sight.

--

               The week-long saga of convincing Sanemi to attend Genya’s shooting competition ends with a shouting match between [Name] and the teacher during one of her practices for the public speaking competition. The topic given to her is familial bonds, and [Name] seamlessly and shamelessly slides in Genya – though anonymously – every three sentences, sometimes subtly or even openly telling her teacher to show his younger brother support by watching the competition.

               Monday comes, and the practice devolves yet again into another heated argument between teacher and student.

               “I told you to drop it already, didn’t I?” Sanemi bellows at her, finally losing the patience he reserves for her.

               “I don’t want to!” [Name] yells back, face flushed with frustration. She is alone in one of the classrooms with the teacher – she wouldn’t be yelling at him like what she is doing now if they weren’t. “And why are you being so difficult about it, sensei? Would it kill you to watch even just one event? Why are you being so stubborn?”

               “You’re the one to talk! I don’t give a shit about Genya’s fucking obsession with guns and joining shooting competitions!” the older Shinazugawa brother rages on. “Not when he’s close to failing my subject because he’s stupid!”

               “Don’t say that you don’t give a shit, sensei! And don’t call him stupid – not when he’s trying so hard to be good at something he isn’t!”

               Sanemi stops from spewing another heated comment when [Name] begins rubbing an arm over her eyes to stop the aggravated tears from flowing down her cheeks. His arms drop uselessly to his sides, suddenly feeling so clueless at the sight of the crying girl in front of him. Genya has good friends, that much he knows (he still hasn’t forgiven that Kamado boy from frowning disapprovingly at him when he rudely commented on Genya’s quiz results). He knows as well that something is up between his younger brother and [Name], but to actually see her crying in Genya’s defence lifts the heavy fog of neglect in the teacher’s heart.

               “You’re always telling Genya-kun to quit, and you look like you don’t even care when he looks hurt by your words! Why do you keep doing that to him? B-Because… Because he’s bad at the subject you’re teaching? Because he’s not as good as Maths as you? Sensei–“

               Sanemi knows what his constant discouragement is doing to Genya. As much as his heart clenches at the look of hurt on his little brother’s face, the older between the two has to do it for Genya’s sake. He’s doing it because he truly believes that the reason why Genya keeps on nearly flunking the subject is because the latter focuses his attention too much to his club activities. Sanemi is harsh because he genuinely wants for Genya to focus on his studies so he graduates with good grades. With good grades, Sanemi knows that the big universities in the city would send invites for his brother to enroll – and soon enough Genya’s future would be as bright as Sanemi has always dreamed of it to be. But to hear from [Name] herself that his little brother is trying hard to be good at Maths despite not being gifted like Sanemi…

               He knows that [Name] is always at the shooting range with Genya during the latter’s morning practices. He even sees the two hanging out with Genya’s friends in the library, the group patiently helping each other with subjects they find difficult.

               Sanemi smiles and softly places a hand on top of [Name]’s head, prompting her to stop crying.

               “You’re a good kid, you know that, [Name]?” he quietly tells her, gently stroking her [colour] hair. “Now I know why Genya’s so smitten with you.”

               The red on her face deepens, and [Name] hides it with her hands with an embarrassed squeal.

               “Sensei!”

--

               The day of the shooting competition finally comes, and Genya’s heart sinks when he doesn’t see [Name] among the audience.

               He knows that she also has an upcoming competition, and he’s even surprised to learn from her that his nii-chan becomes her temporary coach in the absence of Rengoku-sensei. Anxiety slowly creeps in his chest, dread weighing him down where he stands.

               What if… what if nii-chan has stopped her from coming to watch and made her practice today instead?

               A purple banner saying “KIMETSU ACADEMY’S UNBEATABLE ACE! GO GENYA!” pops out from the stands and Genya’s doubt leaves him as soon as they came when he spots his friends (aptly named the Kamaboko Squad because of Inosuke’s penchant of getting people’s names wrong) waving at him in support. Aside from the banner, they wield flaglets depicting his shotgun and his name. Smiling, he lifts a hand to wave at them but freezes when Inosuke puts the banner down to reveal–

               “N-No way…” Genya mutters in utter disbelief, eyes widening and filling with tears.

               Sitting side by side are [Name] and Sanemi, the former holding onto the latter’s arm and excitedly pointing to where Genya is. A huge smile splits [Name]’s face as she waves cheerfully at him. Sanemi, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying not to look too annoyed or bored with the proceedings. He faintly hears her shouts amidst the crowd’s din, his heart leaping up in his throat at her words.

               “GENYA-KUUUN! LOOK WHO I MANAGED TO DRAG HEEEEEERE! YOU BETTER SHOW SENSEI YOUR TOP-NOTCH SHOOTING SKIIIIIIILLS!”

               Genya is reduced to an embarrassed, blushing mess as he follows the other competitors in the first shooting location for the first event, all the while thinking of ways on how to express his gratitude to [Name] for managing to do the unthinkable.

--

               Skeet shooting, the last of the three clay shooting categories, comes to an end with Genya remaining at the top of the leaderboard.

               To say that Sanemi is astounded by his little brother’s shooting skills is an understatement.

               Judging from the categories of the shooting competition, Sanemi is quick to deduce that a competitor is required to have quick reflexes and flash judgement, not to mention a sharp eye, accuracy, and precision. The way his little brother handled all three categories with ease proves that Genya possesses such skills, and maybe even more.

               Despite his distance from the audience stands, Sanemi can perfectly see Genya’s posture and the way he holds himself. When holding a shotgun, Genya seems to transform into an entirely different person. He is so steady, not even a hint of trembling nor exhaustion evident regardless of how long he has been holding the shotgun up and constantly aiming at a clay target flying at approximately 30 seconds per meter. While there have been contestants who merely grazed their targets, the ones Genya shoots always end up shattering mid-air.

               His little brother doesn’t half-ass these competitions, doesn’t he?

               In his mind’s eye, Sanemi can clearly see Genya raking gold medals and trophies for Japan in international competitions.

               He trails behind Genya’s friends when they swarm his little brother right after the awarding ceremony. As expected, the younger Shinazugawa brother is sporting gold medals for each event. Sanemi blinks and looks down at [Name] when she tugs at his sleeve, her face glowing with pride as she gazes up at him.

               “Well, sensei?” she asks him, and Sanemi fights the urge to roll his eyes at the smugness in her voice. He settles for poking her cheek and shooting her a proud grin.

               “N-Nii-chan…?”

               The two look at Genya with varying degrees of pride on their faces. Sanemi places a hand on his brother’s shoulder, now openly showing the latter his brotherly love and support.

               “Well done, Genya,” he simply tells the younger Shinazugawa before resuming his task of poking [Name]’s cheek. “And tell this idiot that she can call me nii-chan outside of school from now on.”

               The (still not official!) couple’s faces explode into a brilliant shade of red at the blatant implication of Sanemi’s words.

               “NII-CHAN!”

               “SENSEI!”

.

.

.

.

#shinazugawa genya #shinazugawa genya x reader #genya x reader #kny genya x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny

[nanagoswife]

For You? Always.

Summary: Fast forward to modern day, it’s a usual Monday morning. Then someone new shows up.

W/C: 2.4k

<<Previous, Next>>

Chapter One

Rushing to the office, you still felt tired from the night before, not being able to fall asleep for hours. There was a meeting first thing and you mentally thanked Derek, your boss, that he helped you get an assistant who had your morning coffee already on your desk. It helped that she had been with you for a few years and knew how days like this start.

Dropping everything you didn’t need, you hurried to the conference room. On your way, your assistant, Paisley, quickly filled you in on the last minute details before you walked in.

Pushing open the door, you were met by the only one there, Derek. He was doing a last minute setup of visuals. Exchanging greetings, you sat your things down in front of the seat beside Derek’s, where you usually sat.

“I’m going to bet that most of the others are going to be late,” Derek said in a playful tone.

“I bet fifty if they all are,” you replied as you both laughed.

Derek countered, “Hmm, I’ll give you an extra five if you’re right.” You gave him a smirk as you sat down and organized everything. "Hey, if we're going that high today, a few dollars doesn't change much." Both of you shared a chuckle before settling.

As you waited, the two of you chatted. He delighted you with stories of his family at home while you occasionally watch the clock as the official meeting start time passed by. Like you predicted, no one else had yet appeared.

“Looks like you owe me fifty-five dollars, sir,” you said teasingly.

Derek chuckled and replied, “A deal is a deal. I’ll get the cash for tomorrow.”

You knew it wouldn't be tomorrow. He always took many days before giving you your winnings.

A few more minutes passed before the expected attendees started to file in, all apologizing for their tardiness.

Both you and Derek couldn’t help but stifle your chuckles at each apology. It took a few more minutes until the last of the members arrived.

Derek didn't waste any time once everyone was present.

“As our first order of business,” Derek said, starting the meeting, “we have gained a new member of our team. He will be the co-head of the legal department along with Siara.”

Siara was one of your longest, and best friends in this building. Not only were you friends in high school, but you stayed in school through university and ended up working at the same company. She had been one of the heads of the legal department, for a couple of years now, with Jason who recently retired.

“Everybody, please give a warm welcome to Ben.”

A man, who you hadn’t seen walk in, stood and gave a small wave. As he did so, he looked very innocent and awkward as he received the welcome. It was almost as if this wasn't the man who had met many authors and celebrities that you would never think of ever seeing in your lifetime.

He took a breath before speaking, “It is an honour to join this fine publishing empire.” Ben said this humbly, sitting down again. He had a slightly faded English accent that was mixed with a Scottish lilt. You wagered that he probably had English (possibly Scottish) parents, but was raised mainly here in North America.

Something about him seemed familiar to you.

So, while Derek filled everyone in on news you already knew, you discreetly studied Ben. He wore what you expected from a lawyer, a suit and tie. His face was clean shaven, showing a strong jaw. His hair was a blondish brown with a hint of red streaming through as it was combed over.

These two features surrounded the most daunting one, his determinedly sparkling, blue-grey eyes with a beauty mark under his right one, just on his cheekbone. Something about it brought back the feeling of familiarity. All together, though, they made for a handsome looking face.

“Now I’ll turn to our Senior Marketing Executive,” Derek said, gesturing to you, “to start the meeting off.”

Standing up, you began to talk about what you knew best. You were used to the scene in front of you. It made you feel like you were at home.

This time, though, you were slightly nervous when you saw Ben looking at you. You couldn’t figure out why. Looking at him made you feel something you’ve never felt before.

When you finished and sat back down, you felt relief flood your mind.

-

After the meeting was over, everyone filed out, you being the last as you always were.

Walking towards your office, you found Paisley waiting for you with a couple of files for an upcoming project. Following you into your office, she sat at the extra desk that you had set up for her for when you had to work closely or when you wanted to talk. She may be your assistant of three years, but she was one of your closest friends.

“So, have you finally met a man yet?” she asked in a playful tone. “You only had all weekend.” Giving her a look, she laughed. “I’m kidding! I know you’re ‘too busy’ for love, anyways.”

“You know that now isn’t the best time, but-”

“THERE’S A BUT?” Paisley cut you off, yelling. It made you glad that your office door was closed. There was a look of genuine surprise that filled her face.

“There always is. Anyways I was going to say, but I won’t abandon the possibility.” Her face dropped at that. Disappointment that there was still no one significant in your life other than your parents, her, Siara, and your life long friend, Sadie.

“Please let me make you an account on some sort of dating app or something. I’ve been waiting for someone to double date with for years.”

“Siara has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah but they both have time consuming jobs. Then, if they have time together, they stay in or she’s always with you.” She said this slightly aggravatedly. Hearing it only made you fail to stifle a small laugh, earning you a glare.

“There’s plenty of people here that you could ask, isn’t there? I thought you were friends with a lot of people.”

“I am, but they are never available because they almost all have kids. That’s why, with you, the one who seems to be friends with everyone in this building and more, I’m surprised you haven’t found anyone.”

What Paisley said was very true. You were about to reply until a knock at the door drew your attention.

Telling them to come in, you were met with a face you weren’t expecting. It was Ben. Siara accompanied him, undoubtedly showing him around.

“Sorry to disturb you two. I was just showing Ben around and introducing him to some of the people he needed to know most. Starting with you.” Siara said as you got up to shake his hand in greeting. Both you and Paisley introduced yourselves, him doing the same. Why did you feel like you've heard that name before?

“Siara, you always know that you interrupt nothing. And Ben, it’s nice to properly meet you.” You said, giving him a smile. Then, leaning in slightly closer and lowering your voice, but keeping it loud enough so that Siara could still hear, you said, “And if she’s ever bothering you, let me know. I know how to contain her.” All of you laughed.

“She tells the truth. You’ve only known me since high school,” Siara said sarcastically. Giving you a push on the shoulder, she then gave you a friendly hug.

“I heard that I’m apparently going to be working with you quite a bit. I look forward to it.” Ben said this very professionally, but there was a look of nervousness in his eyes. You couldn’t tell if he was either intimidated or if it was something else as he flashed a grin.

“We will be. She might look like she follows the rules, but without us, she would be infringing the law 24/7.” Siara said jokingly. “Anyways, we’ll let you get back to work. I have to finish the tour, but we will be swinging around to discuss actual work a bit later.”

After saying your farewells, they closed the door as they left.

Sitting down, you saw Paisley give you a sly look. After asking her why she said, “He likes you.”

“What do you mean? He was being polite and being thrown into that role in this building would not be easy,” you said back. Her words made you look back and see what she may have meant.

“Did you not see the look in his eyes? When Ben looked at either me or Siara, it was much different than the one he gave you.”

You didn't notice, really. So, you stumbled for your response, “I’m sure he was just nervous. In a way, I am one of his bosses. He was most likely nervous to meet me.”

“And why would he be nervous when he’s a big deal in here. He wasn’t put straight into a leadership role just because. He’s dealt with people we would never imagine meeting in a hundred years.” Paisley retorted.

She was right. You had heard about what he has done from Derek when the discussions of him coming here were first taking place. Ben had met people you could only wish to meet, though you had met a great deal of big names as well. Shrugging it off, you walked back to your desk and went to work.

As you did, you couldn't help but let your mind wander as you tried to figure out why he was so familiar. Why you felt like you already knew him.

- - -

“How was your first meeting?” Siara cut off Ben’s thoughts as he was looking at a file that he truly wasn’t reading. Something else was on his mind.

“Not bad,” his words trailed off as he started thinking again.

Siara caught this and gave him a confused look, “Ben, are you okay?”

He knew he couldn't get past Siara's perceptiveness. She was one of the few that he considered a friend in high school. Even after years of only talking through letters and emails, she could still read him well.

He stammered in an attempt to recover the moment. “I’m sorry. There’s just someone I saw in there that I think I know.”

“I mean, I’ve known you for how long? There is one person who went to the same high school as us. In fact, she’s our senior marketing executive.”

Ben swallowed before speaking, “Actually, that is who I was thinking of.”

Looking down at the file again, he went back to the memories he had of you. School. The cafe. How much he really liked you even though he was sure that you didn’t care for him then.

“Well,” Siara’s voice breaking his thoughts again, “why don’t we stop by her office. I need to give you a proper tour anyways.”

He smiled in thanks but a pang of nervousness filled him as his heart picked up speed. Ben didn't even think he could walk properly once he stood.

It wasn’t long until Siara had led him to your office door. His heart began to race again as she knocked.

Hearing your reply, the door was opened and he was greeted by your kind smile. He hardly heard Siara speaking but managed to introduce himself to your assistant and most of all, you.

“Siara, you always know that you interrupt nothing. And Ben, it’s nice to properly meet you.”

Your smile reminded him of years ago, but he was now sure that you didn't remember him.

Then you leaned closer to him, “And if she’s ever bothering you, let me know. I know how to contain her.” He couldn’t help but laugh, which was thankfully carried on by the others, hiding his slightly anxious one.

The rest was really just a blur. Up until he heard Siara say that they needed to have a meeting with you later, he couldn’t repeat what was said. A grin creeped onto his face at the thought of seeing you again. Even if it was for work

After saying bye, Siara closed the door behind her.

“What was that?” she asked. The question took him by surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“The way you were acting. You like her, don’t you?”

He felt heat fill his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck, a nervous smirk spreading his lips.

That was all she needed for her answer. "Just like high school," she muttered to herself.

Before Ben could say anything more, she continued on with taking him around the building. Relief filled him when she didn’t continue on the topic.

- - -

Later, you went down to Siara’s office instead of them coming to yours. It was more private and didn’t have a Paisley to distract you. As you thought that to yourself, you chuckled.

Walking into Siara's office, which was really a repurposed conference room, you saw Ben and Siara in the only clear area of the table. The rest was covered in organized piles of papers, files, and open books. Slightly laughing at the sight they both greeted you with a smile, Siara turning back to the tablet in front of her before Ben.

“So what’s up?” you asked when you saw a serious look on their faces. “Please tell me something isn’t wrong.”

“Oh there is,” you started to panic, thinking a mistake may have been made. “This guy is just a mastermind when it comes to playing chess,” Siara replied, making you laugh with relief. They almost had you.

Their seriousness faded as they turned away from the tablet, pausing the game.

“In all seriousness, it’s just the usual update about how everything has been doing well on the legal side of everything. There’s just a few things to double check and that’ll be all.”

Nodding your head, you took the empty seat beside Ben. You noticed as he tensed for a moment but quickly relaxed. Your attention was then brought to the conversation.

Next>>

@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo @madmax2003

#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n #x reader #fanfic #ewan mcgregor #obi wan #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #ben kenobi #modern au #For You? Always.

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut (coming in ch3!) - college!au

wordcount ~ 2.3k

warnings ~ pretty much n/a, mentions of drinking and light smut

a/n ~ v excited for these lil dorks! i thought about combining this with the upcoming chapter but it felt right on its own and i wanted to go ahead and post an update for yall haha. ch 3 will most definitely have some serious smut to look forward to 👀 thank yall for reading, i love and appreciate any form of support or feedback so so much, so feel free to msg me or send me an ask abt whatever you want! 🥰 hope u enjoy this chapter!!!

previous: chapter 1 ~ next: chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 2 ~ cowboy bebop & chill

You couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook. Every time you brought the enamel of your favorite mug to your lips, teeth knocking the rim as you exhaled to cool off your tea, it called back the click of his earrings in your mouth. Whenever you reached behind your ear to tuck away the hair you'd impulsively cropped to your chin this year, it hit the same spot you'd sucked into a bruise on his neck and you shivered. Even your slight headache thanks to the shitty vodka from the pregame reminded you of the wine you'd sought out from him in the first place and never fucking got to drink. 

You found yourself reading over your responses to each other's discussion posts from your film class, trying to find any more justification for this sudden crush than the drunken flirtation that mortified you as soon as you remembered it sober. He did seem to like your directness...but you could easily ascribe that to his similarly loosened-up state. Scanning through your reflections on The Shawshank Redemption and Casablanca, you painstakingly overanalyzed every smiley face and "I loved that part too!" Could he have been into you at all before this? Or had he just eyed you for another quick fuck at a party? Shit, what if he hated you for working him up and then leaving? If he wanted to, you knew he would have easily found someone else to finish the night with. But what if he still held it against you? The image of him bitterly turning aside to find another girl in the crowd, with your hickey still fresh on his jaw, turned your stomach more than you wanted to admit.

Shaking your head with a grounding exhale, you reminded yourself that whoever else he did or didn't hook up with was none of your business. Plus, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and probably didn't hate you in the first place. Wow, the bar really was so fucking low. Maybe that was part of the reason you were never that bold with boys. Every classmate you'd fallen for so far at college had remained innocently unaware of your feelings, likely because you never worked up the courage to clearly express them. You hadn't even been trying this time, though—this semester had been so busy you'd barely had time for your friends, much less crushes. And now your one blowoff class had become your biggest distraction.

Jungkook, a communications & media major, couldn't afford to lose as much focus in this class as you. Normally near front-and-center, he sat all the way in the corner of the last row, wary of imaginary stares burning through the hopefully-opaque-enough curtain of his hair. Even the risk of zoning out staring at the back of your head stressed him out less than the thought of you doing the same to him.

You walked into class through the back right entrance today so you'd pass Jungkook in the front row, though you could have gone straight to your usual left-side seat from the main door. Knowing you'd never summon the courage to talk to him, you still couldn't help wanting to see his face. You didn't know just what you were looking for—some kind of confirmation or dismissal that would let you just move on with your dry-ass life—but any reason to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was a good one. Today, though, he sat far closer to the entrance than you'd expected, and his proximity stopped you in your tracks a few feet behind him. Eyes dragging down the sculpted form under his soft black sweatsuit, your stare traced the veins in his forearms to reach the hands in his lap. Catching a half-page cartoon ass in your view of the manga he gazed at intently, a snort-laugh escaped you, the sound setting him on high alert. He snapped the book shut, spinning around with eyes wide and still-long hair an understandable mess for a Monday.

"I'm so—"

"I'm so sorry!"

You both shoved out the words at the same time.

A pause swelled between you, eye contact maintained as your mouths fluttered open and shut like fish. Even awkward and off-guard like this, he was just so damn pretty. It felt unreasonable for him to seem as flustered around you as you were around him. Finally, you spoke again, solely to force the conversation forward and put you both out of your misery.

"W-what do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who, like—ugh, I was drunk, I'm so sorry, I never would have been so, yknow, if I was sober, like that's not me I promise, I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or—"

"No-no-no-no-no!" Jungkook cut you off, dismissing your barely intelligible apology. Before you could cut him off in return and continue, he held up both hands between you, his eyebrows knit together in a pleading expression. "Are you kidding me? Seriously, I feel so bad, I was kind of drunk too, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable! Please, you have nothing to worry about, it was, uh...I was...good...if...you were." He grew shyer as he continued, drifting off as a hand reached back to rub his neck. A light laugh. "You did make me have to keep my hair long for another few days, though. It's gotten so annoying to take care of, I was planning on cutting it right after the costume."

This admission perked up all your earlier curiosities about him, and a cautious smile spread over your face as Jungkook unconsciously reminded you that he was, in fact, a total dork, rather than the fuckboy you'd irrationally feared him to be.

"Wait, hold up," you snorted again. Gently. "You're telling me you grew out your hair for three, maybe four, months...for a Cowboy Bebop costume?"

"Hey, it was free and way less lame than a wig," he defended himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fidgeted uncomfortably, face blushing into a grin as you continued to giggle at him.

"You are such a fucking weeb," you accused lightheartedly.

Jungkook furrowed his brows back together, an anxious hand grazing the spot where you'd marked him again. "Well, you recognized my Spike costume, at least," he pouted. "You're not all innocent."

"I watched one episode with my friend, and it was dubbed," you downplayed. "Isn't watching dubs instead of subs a crime for real anime fans?"

"Actually," his eyes lit up at your rhetorical question. "The dub of Cowboy Bebop is excellent. It's pretty universally considered better than watching the OG with subs. You're right though, that is the general rule."

"Oh man, who knew." Looking down, grinning, you tried to hide how endeared you were by his earnestness. "Well, it was pretty cool, not gonna lie. I guess I kind of get the appeal."

"Would you want to start watching the rest sometime? That's one I just never get tired of," he blurted, then blushed, closing his mouth and working his lips between his teeth as his eyes stayed wide and on you. Jungkook's heart accelerated in his chest, a fist opening and closing at his hip as he tried to decide whether he regretted taking a chance on the question.

You instantly diverted all your mental energy from hoping he couldn't sense your attraction to massively overthinking your response. This was a "Netflix and chill" kind of invite, right? If he wanted you, of course you wanted him, but you had to be sure before you did something else stupid and risked having to find another discussion board buddy.

"Um...yeah, sure," you accepted. "I have to ask, though, do you mean, like...Cowboy Bebop and chill?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to look bolder than you felt. "Or...Cowboy Bebop and just...Cowboy Bebop?"

"I..." Mirroring your playful grin, Jungkook shrugged, not wanting to look like a fuckboy if he answered with the first option but also wondering—were you actually interested in watching this anime with him? The possibility puzzled him, the same way it confused you how he could go bold and then back to his shy weeb-ass self within seconds. You shrugged too, with an anxious exhale of a laugh.

"That was...weird to just say like that, sorry. We can just see where it goes, whatever you want," you backtracked, full of faux-nonchalance. The Google Calendar schedule on your phone suddenly became very interesting. "We could do another day if that works for you, but I'm free after this class once I write my discussion post—I don't have any other homework or meetings today for once."

He nodded quickly, eyebrows up. Swallowing, Jungkook saw the opportunity to show a little more initiative and seized it. "We could do that together even, 'cause we usually jump off each other anyway. So you can come over right after class if you want." He glanced up and to the left for a quick mental inventory. "Oh shit, wait, but I seriously need to clean my apartment first, can we do more like dinner time tonight? You can just come over for ramen or takeout if you want, or eat first or whatever."

"Yeah, that's fine!" you agreed warmly. "Ramen and homework, two birds with one scone. I should probably, like...get your number? So you can send me your address when you're ready or something?" You didn't want to sound too desperate, especially since you knew he was used to it, but you found yourself weirdly excited to experience something he so obviously loved. If you got dicked down too, even better, but you were definitely willing to wait on that part, especially now that this first sober conversation had restored your inhibitions. He had this slightly shy sweetness about him that just made you want to make him happy somehow. You wanted to see more of his cheesy little smile. You wanted to hear the bright laugh that occasionally rang out at the most inappropriate times, during Citizen Kane or attendance. You wanted to watch his light pink lips fall open in bliss as you kissed down his sensitive neck to the trim of his worn-in hoodie...

"Yeah sure, here." The quick touch of his hand over yours snapped you out of your thoughts as he took your phone, ready to type in his number, and—

"Wait, did you say 'two birds with one scone'? Not 'one stone'?"

You blushed furiously. Somehow him calling you out on your quirks embarrassed you more than the indecent daydream he'd interrupted. "Okay, so I saw this tweet a while back where they said 'feed two birds with one scone' to replace 'kill two birds with one stone,' I think it was just some vegan troll being all like 'don't talk about killing birds!' but it stuck with me because I just really fucking love scones."

"You...really fucking love scones?" he repeated in slight sarcasm, eyes down on your phone. You grew even shyer, but continued.

"Yeah, I bake a lot and they're my favorite thing to make. The flavor possibilities are endless and they last for days so I just keep them on hand for breakfast and snacks and to give out to friends. And they go with tea, which is my other favorite thing." Ooh, was he a tea person? Should you bring some tonight? Something earthy, to go with your ramen. Your go-to green sencha, or maybe chrysanthemum? Chamomile?

Jungkook held your phone back out in front of you, but waited silently for you to notice, enjoying the view of wheels turning in your head as you pondered tea pairings. This was the you he was used to, daydreaming in class and going on tangents as dorky as his in discussions. Even from a distance, he'd noticed you consistently gave off a vibe somewhere between absentminded professor and grandma, and this confirmation made you even cuter to him. But the hair still falling over his ears wouldn't let him forget his new physical proof of another side to you.

You finally collected your phone with a mumbly "Oh right, yeah, cool, thanks," that you prayed sounded more chill to him than it did to you.

"I just texted myself, so I have your number too now, and I'll just send you my address when I'm ready, and, uh...yeah!" he rambled a bit in response.

You nodded, confirming. "I'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, see you tonight."

Jungkook watched you walk to your desk, silently admiring your ass and allowing himself only a moment to savor the memory of half of it filling his hand. A strange nervousness tingled through him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you all weekend either, and now he had a chance to get closer to you than ever before. He hoped, more than he could remember hoping for anything else, that this would go well, one way or another. He had no idea what you wanted with him, but you had him questioning everything he'd thought he wanted. Easing open his laptop, he pulled up your last discussion board response to him, signed off with a smiley face but backwards.

I like the way you think. (:

He turned his head to read it right-side-up, letting his face scrunch into a smile you wouldn't see.

Meanwhile, though the film thrilled you, you struggled to stay facing forward for the duration of class. You suspected the plot of Rear Window was simply unsettling you, but you swore you could feel Jungkook's eyes on your back. No, he was probably actually watching the movie as usual, or reading his manga if not. You were definitely just being paranoid. Definitely. Probably. Right?

next chapter 

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #college!jungkook #college au!jungkook #bts college au #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #my writing #anti-hero #anti hero

[idjitlili]

Don’t stop me now

Spike btvs x reader

Summary:Imagine looking like  Freddie Mercury as a woman like in a 'I want to break free' with a hoover  dancing only for an 100+ vampire to join in, unknowingly.

A/n: what can I say , I've been busy with college , and I'm British so we know spike is gonna know Queen too.

Word count: 3891 Y/c=country(or just a state in America I don't know, the whole world isn't America lol.

It was strange to say the least; working for wolfram & hart, you had came from y/c to here, working for a law firm run by a vampire with a soul.  

Mental if you ask yourself , you had known Wesley when you was younger, actually he had brought you a ticket to Los Angeles , since your parental figure had called him , and let him know about everything really. Well just that you were now y/a , and in need of a job. That was it you were here now.

You weren't sure what your job was really , you definitely was not a social butterfly, Wesley had mentioned you had to crack codes? Now that you think about it , something to do with researching different demon rituals? That's not the correct word , anyways to do that had write summaries for Angel's upcoming meetings with these different species.

You ever had your own office, you could live in there honestly.  

There was a lot going on all the time, frankly it was kinda scary , knowing no one apart from Wesley, who clearly knotted up by the scientist, Fred. Yet you was always invited to the important meetings , you had guessed Wes had put in a word , to help you feel welcome or included. There wasn't really a purpose for you being there.

You were a little nervous that maybe one of them, probably the vampire ,Angel , not knowing that the blond British man was one too, could read your mind. What would he find the that  was terrifying (except you read dirty smut) . You were sat by Wes , at the end of the table closest to the window. Which also meant you were sat next to Angel, with the jelled blond bad boy opposite you.

"Okay, so cannibal vampire cult...what's with that, and why is that a problem?" Angel had began , with the same brooding face as , he had on 24 hours a day.  

Gunn , had cleared his throat briefly, causing everyone to turn their heads towards him. "Well, it's quite simple, they are killing all our clients."  Yeah this was waste of your life, you had already began doodling on the notepad in front of you. Unknowingly forgetting you were in an 'significant'  meeting.  

Not knowing how much time had gone by, felt like hours , freshly finished school and know you were here? Sucky. You were only jolted out of your thoughts when a foot had nudged yours, looking up slowly to the man in front of you , waiting for your reaction.

He was quite handsome you could not deny that, a small blush had raised to your cheeks , as he had caught you in a trance of boredom, you had lifted your eyebrows at him in confusion. With nothing but a smirk in response you had tried to listen again to the meeting.

"So you are saying we need bait? But who would we use? This whole place is monsters, "  Fred's face with disgust at the word 'monsters' as she delivered her thoughts, Wes thought for a moment his hand at his lip, indicting so as he looked at the pine table.  

"No,not necessarily," He had gestured to you , all eyes on you, feeling like a stripper, wow this is attention? Blush upon your face once again,"w-wha" choking on your own words ,before Angel had shook his head "Absolutely not, Wes, that's not fair."

"Yeah! I'm human too."

"And me, hey! So are you Wes."

"Uhhh, Mister Angel, " What else was you supposed to call him? Dad?  He had looked at you from the disagreement, nodding for you to go on.  

"S-say if I was, uh, what's the chances of me dying?"   The pencil in your hands being gripped tightly in your now sweaty palms, but Angel is not given chance to reply. "He wouldn't allow that, love. Would you 'mister' Angel" the blond vampire smirk was evident as he looked at the brooding brunette.

"Hold on a second, why do they want a human, if they are cannibal?" Okay that did make sense, use your ears y/n.

"They can't just drink each other , they need something other than other vampires. That's only when they actually find one of ours." Yeah, you guess that the blond man did make sort of sense, you had just "hm" in response.

You had turned to Wesley, gesturing for him to come closer, so that you could whisper into his ear, the rest watched in confusion. Hold on Angel still didn't answer your question. "Uh, um, did you volunteer me because I'm a virgin? Does that make me more attractive to the vampires?" You had really hoped that no one had super hearing, Wes pondered for a second, your hand still on his shoulder.

"I'm not quite sure, I'm probably not the best person to ask , you should bring that up with Angel." Wow thank you , so much. You moved back into sitting in your chair correctly. Twiddling your thumbs, to pretend like no one was looking at you,felt like hours that you were sat there, before your foot was nudged again, you peeped up to see the same blond man looking at you. Who else is it going to be? Johnny Depp? No.

"Come on ,love." You weren't even sure of his name, and he was calling you love. Instead of speaking you had just stared back blankly. Most awkward meeting. "Would you just ask me then? Surely it's not that bad,no one else has to hear." Only his Spike saw the look Angel was giving him, awww soft boy. He did not seem like he was evil..only if you knew him a couple of years ago.

You had stood up, in hopes spike would do the same,so you wouldn't have to kneel next to him and whisper. He stood up as you made your way to him , moving away from the table, before turning back to the others. "You lot carry on, " With that he led you away out of Angel's office to an empty one. This is so dramatic but you don't really want to be talking about your virginity to these people, well except spike.

"So,love, what's the problem?" He had towered over you, he was quite handsome yes, but you felt intimidated in honesty. "Uh,well, since I'm going to be bait...well ,um,  Are virgins more at risk at being snacked on? If that makes a difference to vampires? Oh I'm sorry, uh I-" he let out a chuckle at you, you moved your gaze to your feet. Why did you have to wear these heels, you didn't see Patrick swayze anywhere.

"Yes, they can smell it as soon as you walk into a room and it tastes different to other humans. ,love."

"W-wait how do you know?"

"I've had my fair share, now come on , love-come on I'm not going to eat you."

"Pfft- I'm not a virgin."

"Sure love,"

And with that you both headed back to the meeting , before you left to be bait Fred had informed you Spike had a soul like Angel after you had questioned him to her and Wesley.

Now you were in the middle of a park at 1 am , which happened to be not even a mile from the vampire base. It was freezing , in a poncho with a tank top, apparently to show off your neck under the street light, you were pretty sure that the vampires didn't give a shit if you were wearing Michael Myers mask.  

Ah yes, first day on the job, risks of death 99.9% , lovely.

What exactly are you supposed to do?  Pretty sure that mister mysterious and mister Stevie Nicks/vanilla ice are hiding in the bushes or something. Oh how you wish that Keanu Reeves would swoop you away from this situation.  

Stood in the open park, kicking the mud with you shoe , well until you are body slammed backwards onto the floor, by obviously an indeed ugly vampire. Where's David from lost boys you wouldn't mind if it was him , but this dude stank. He was not even a second away from biting you- wait sorry his fangs were in your neck.  It hurt like period pains in your neck, well until it was over , when he was yanked off by a blurry figure , as you felt your body being lifted, that was it.

You had woken up the next morning under a blanket on the sofa in your office, a plaster on your neck, water on the table. You were never going to do that , with the huge headache and the low sugar levels. As you looked down realising your movie white tank top was now drenched in blood. Deciding it was best to go talk to someone to go home, you left the office.

Your heels now discarded , your bare feet padding against the carpet floor , all the way to Angels office, Harmony informing you that he was in a meeting with the others. One brief knock on the pine door, was all it took for the similar brooding vampire had opened the door , gesturing you in.

Okay it was a bit naughty to not changed the blood stained tank, since there are two vampires in the room. Soon you were sat exactly where you were 24 hours ago, as were everyone else. "Uh, um ," No one was speaking , just staring at you really. "Y/n, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have forced you into doing that , I didn't mean for you to get hurt." Wesley was undoubtedly guilty, probably thinking about how made your parental figure was going to be more like.

"I just like to say, I could've gotten aids."

"Uh, that's not how that works." Fred was honestly shaken by your words, well not really she just thought well actually you don't know.

"That was just dramatic effect. I'm quite annoyed , I did not want fucking Edward sucking me like I was juice carton. Did you even kill the cult?" Your voice sounded like sandpaper, as you delivered your anger with pop culture references and dramatic gestures.

"Yeah we did, well not me but still." Lorne smiled at you with concern , he had felt sympathy for you , hoping the bite wouldn't scar.

"Well good, um, I was wondering if I could go home now? Please?" You already hate this job, Angel had nodded, queuing you to stand up , doing a small bow in respect , going home to have a bath and sleep.

Wesley had called you not long after you gotten home , to inform you that you had been given an extra few days off. Wow first day then long weekend, mental.

Once you had gotten back on Monday, your neck was not healed still, but you had to come back otherwise you was going to be homeless.

Surprisingly , the work was easy , too easy, but you weren't to complain... there was tv with a DVD player, you were absolutely chuffed. It happened that you had brought cds in your bag accidentally. After storing those cds in that bag when coming to Los Angeles.

So , you did work through your work a little too fast, nothing to do, so since the demon cleaners  suck arse , and didn't clean up the blood from last week, you had went and gotten a Hoover and cleaning supplies. Queen and david bowie, playing on the tv, you know you can use DVD players to play cds, if you didn't know.

Maybe it was a little bad you playing slightly loud music while hoovering, dancing as you went, it was a shitty Hoover so it was taking a while. Your cardigan and heels discarded, your forehead laced with sweat, what could you say who does like Queen. Thus I want to break freebegan to play.

"I want to break free I want to break free I want to break free from your lies," The fact this song was a parody of coronation street. As soon as the beat began , you had also began aggressively Hooving, the long dramatic strides, even the the lip twitches as you lip-synced.

"You're so self satisfied I don't need you I've got to break free God knows, God knows I want to break free," You had stopped to flip the fringe of your hair , before resting your hands on your hips , the self confident head shake, another hair flip out of your face.

"I've fallen in love I've fallen in love for the first time And this time I know it's for real I've fallen in love, yeah God knows, God knows I've fallen in love It's strange but it's true, yeah,"

Obviously you couldn't take your shirt off , like Freddie, but yeah your skirt rising up , blouse too buttons undone was enough. Your hands hands spread out like a star for moments, you didn't know that Spike had heard the music and began to locate the source.

"I can't get over the way you love me like you do But I have to be sure When I walk out that door. Oh, how I want to be free, baby Oh, how I want to be free Oh, how I want to break free"

Looking up to the ceiling, arms lift out to the sides , legs apart. Dramatic spin, clenching of fists to your chest. Spike walking up to the do slowly opening it , seeing you shaking your head 'I want to break free' Now some elves but you can't do that your not Legolas. Or cows you are not sure.

Now not sure how you didn't see Spike .  This was embarrassing, spike wasn't copying really, not much anyways. It wasn't long after that dont stop me now started. Wow this is embarrassing. You had just abandon the Hoover at this point.

"I feel alive and the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah And floating around in ecstasy"

Bringing you hands in front  of you up near your neck , wiggling your fingers, spike did the same.

" So don't " You looked forward, "stop," Looked towards the window , as did spike . "me" Back forward. "now" "don't stop me 'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity." Jumping up , scratching like a Tiger standing side on,  moving your arms around you 200 degrees , you were doing a duet , without knowing it.

" I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva I'm gonna go, go, go" Honestly you don't know how to describe these moves in honesty go watch Paul Rudd do it.

"There's no stopping me I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah." Your arms almost touching spikes as you lift them up as you circle your arse in a small circle, before pointing up.

"Two hundred degrees That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit"  

Okay you had climb onto the desk , spot Spike oh my god , you couldn't of represented the fear , well until he had threw his jacket on the sofa ripped his shirt off, winking at you, shaking his shoulders.

"I'm traveling at the speed of light I wanna make a supersonic man out of you "

"Don't" you had wiggled yours back, before pointing at the platinum vampire,gesturing him to come to you .

"stop me now, I'm having such a good time I'm having a ball Don't stop me now"  As he reached you , you held out your hands for him , helping him up onto the table.

"If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call" Each of you looking at each other, as you danced ,sorta looking like Rick I'm never going to give you up, a lot of twisting , and hand movements.

"Don't" "stop" " me now ('cause I'm having a good time) Don't stop me now (yes, I'm havin' a good time)" Spike had grabbed your hands twirling you, ending up with you in front of him facing away. Throwing out thumbs up to the side of you as you got closer to the desk top.

"I don't want to stop at all" Before rising your arms up , Spike pulling you up, honestly if you knew him deeply you wouldn't believe that he would do this, he's a vampire.

"Yeah, I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars On a collision course I am a satellite, I'm out of control I am a sex machine, ready to reload. Like an atom bomb about to Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh explode." Throwing your head back then forwards quickly , with your leg up, clicking your finger.

"I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah Two hundred degrees That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit" Neither of you had noticed the music had gained more attention then you may of realised , Angel ,Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Lorne were hiding behind the sofa.

"Don't stop me, don't stop me Don't stop me, hey, hey, hey"

Spike jumped off of the table turning back to you , five feet away, holding his arms out to catch you.

"Don't stop me, don't stop me Ooh ooh ooh, I like it"

With that you had jumped, (Spike watched dirty dancing? Probably Harmony's fault.) Effortlessly he had caught you you lifting you up, for a few seconds.

"Don't stop me, don't stop me Have a good time, good time"

Lowering you down slowly , your arms around his neck, panting slightly, uh he wasn't sweaty , he's dead but you were covered in sweaty.

Soon enough the song came to an end , you were still in the vampires embrace , his arms around your shoulders securing you.

It hasn't even been an minutes ,clapping begins, someone turns of the Hoover and the music. You both turn around slowly pulling out of the embrace to see , the brooding Angel laughing with everyone.

"Bloody hell, perverts much." Annoyance interweaved in Spikes voice, you could share that embarrassment.

Looking at your feet realising how inappropriate you look , your blouse now see through due to the sweat , the cotton clinging to your body, wrapping your arms around yourself, to cover."uh , Angel , I was only cleaning and that because, um I completed my work, uhh there was still blo-""it's fine, as long as you are feeling better, " you had nodded at him before going back to looking at your feet.

Moments go by with silence from you and Spike as the others are talking away , no doubt about you two. You are soon pulled out of your trance when a heavy weight is placed on your shoulders , looking up to see Spike placing his long leather jacket on you , sending you a small smirk before walking out of your office , still shirtless.

"I haven't seen him like that in a long time, he is fond of you." With that Angel left too. " Aw, I'm glad you are settling in y/n/n , I just never thought you would do so ,by dancing to Queen with a vampire." Wesley had patted your back , leaving with Fred who just smiled , followed by Gunn and Lorne.

Thus you grabbed your stuff , to go home , you had danced to the end of the day. Walking out of the office , hoping Harmony didn't see you and kill you for Spike giving you his jacket.

She had already gone thank god , no death today, the next day , you had brought Spikes jacket with you. In search of him in the morning, you had hidden it in your bag , heading to Harmony's desk.  

"Uh, have you seen Spike today?" Please don't kill me. She had looked up at you with a polite smile. "He's literally just left Angel's office, something about going to taking a car or something? Why?"

"Oh, I just need to pass a message from Wesley to him, thank you." You had lied , but you hoped that Wesley would go with it, if she asked him.  Rushing down to Angel's private car park, in hopes of catching Spike, which you did but he almost hit you with the car.

Your hands placed on the hood, breathing roughly before moving to the drivers side , as he rolled down the window, smirking yet again. The car had had black out windows so you guess that's why he was going out in the day?

"Awe, all out of breathe for me , love?" You had ignored his comment , pulling out his heavy jacket from your bag, passing it to him.  "Cheers,love." You had nodded, turning away to head back up.  That was it until about 2:45 , again all your work was done, just sitting there doing nothing, but twiddling your thumbs.

So you decided , maybe you should go get some air outside, or go home you weren't sure. Swinging the office door open to see , Spike.

"Ah, oh Hi."

"Going somewhere, love?" Well that sounded like a threat , but he was not smirking like I'm going to chop your fucking head off.

"I don't know really , I think I'm going home."

"I'll drive you."

"Really?" He didn't seem to be the type to drop you off home to to your mother , not that she was there, but still, he had nodded , and that was it you walked with him. Until  Harmony stopped you both, she had frowned slightly before smiling again.

"So you got the message from Wesley then, spike?" You looked at Spike who didn't notice you looking , just stood looking at the blonde girl in confusion,until you pretend to resist your bag accidentally knocking him with bag.

"Yeah,"  

"What was it?"

"Mind your own business, wanker." With that he had walked around her with you ,guiding you with his arm around your shoulder.

Once you were both were sat in the car , you had given Spike your address , immediately he had started driving.  "So what was that about?"

"Well, uh, Wesley informed me about everyone ,  said you had something with Harmony, and she's a vampire. So I asked where you were this morning to give back your jacket but didn't want to say that, just in case she tried to eat me." Spike had let out a laugh, "I can see your concern, love , she's a bloody nightmare." You had let out a small laugh of understanding.

"Hey, do you still eat food?."

"Yeah, not a lot , but sometimes I do, why do you ask?"

" y-you've been very nice to me , since I'd been here, and you are driving me home.. uh so I was wondering if you would like to come in and have something. I don't have blood , uh other than my own and uh I lost a lot of that last week. You don't have to , um, I jus-" "I will, love,"

"Oh brilliant, uh I make some nice cookies."

"Great, love. Can't wait."

#buffy the vampire slayer #spikebtvs #spike btvs #btvs #spike x reader #spike imagine #spike x you #spike x y/n #spike btvs x reader #spike btvs imagine #james marsters #angel #angel 1999

[hyocherie]

AtsuHina: T w o W o r l d s (侑日:2つの世界)

Previous:

第4章

1.

They stared at each other's eyes with fondness with a hint of shyness. It took them a while to realize it, perhaps that was love. But it's too early, they just met. Well, what if I told you that this isn't their first meeting. Perhaps, it seems like they know each other by heart, not just by appearance. And by first glance, you know they "were" in love before. But how? Well-

"Um, sorry," Seiji bowed his head, not getting his courage to look at her again.

Well, that sorta broke it. I was speaking.

"It's alright," Shizuku waved her hands in from of her. She's not quite the type who accepts an immediate apology without being embarrassed or guilty about it.

Um, I was speaking...! E-hem. Let's continue the story, so as I as sayi-

"Please don't be. It's my fault. It will feel awkward to you that I was staring at you like that. You just remind me of someone..."

"No! It's alright! It's not your fault! You also remind me of someone in my past!"

"Oh, mind if I ask who?" He looked at her.

Really now? I was trying to talk here-

"I forgot his name...he looks like you. A lot. And yes! You have the same first name!"

"Seiji?"

"Hm! but it was like, I never met him in this world but the last...?"

"You may be an incarnation of his lover, I guess?"

"I guess so."

"But, there's a thousand of Seiji's in Japan. Who?"

"Before we answer that question, I remind you of who?"

Looks like I'll stay as a narrator. I'll leave that ~beautiful~ secret for now.

"You look like her. And as you said, I feel like I meant you somewhere but not here..."

"Name?"

"I remember...Shizuku. How do you spell your name?"

"How will I spell my name?"

'Ah," He gave her a ballpen from his pocket. "Write with this. On your hand, on your wrist. Anywhere that I can see."

"穏空,"  She wrote it on her palm. Seiji observed it.

"That isn't what I remember..."

"What do you remember?"

Seiji then took her palm and wrote the character "��".

"Oh, droplet?"

"Yeah, I remember calling her "little drop" as a tease," He replied.

"How do you write yours?"

Seiji then wrote the characters 聖司 on her palm, right beside her characters.

"That how his name is written too..."

"Are you sure? there's a lot of ways to write Seiji..."

"No, this is what I remember."

"Then, what does that mean?"

They looked at each other. They think that it was just a mere coincidence, people can have the same name written with the same characters, but there's something that tells them, it wasn't a mere coincidence. That is what they will be trying to find out.

2.

Hinata then woke up, the sun blinding his sight again. He opened his eyes slowly, he was back home. He stood up from his bed immediately, looking around his surroundings. He looked at his wrist, a blue chrysalis bracelet was tied around it. The memories from last night crossed his mind, the last thing he remembered is that he laid his head on Atsumu's shoulder, with his 9 tails covering him. Then, his mother, Yui, came in his room, with his breakfast consisting of waffles drizzled with maple syrup and covered with butter. The top of it had whipped cream with a cut strawberry on top of it. Beside it was hot chocolate with marshmallows swirling around that chocolate goodness. On the side, it has yoghurt with cut berries in it. His mother came in with a smile.

"You are awake, my child," She then rested the tray on the table beside the bed. She then sat down on the stool near his bed and looked at him. "How's your sleep?"

"Where am I?"

"At home, darling."

"Where was I last night?"

"Hm? You said you were going out. You came home here alone with that bracelet on your wrist," She then indicated the shining blue-bead bracelet on his wrist. "Where did you get that?"

"Oh, this? I met a friend and me gave me this."

"Can you tell mommy about it?"

"Of course! So, his name is Atsumu and he's a fox spirit. Like the one you told me in your story!"

"Ooh~what else, darling?"

Hinata told his mom everything that happened last night, how he met Atsumu, who he was, how he helped him find the Shinto Shrine, his green glowing necklace and how it was used as a light, how he let him play with his tail and the other 8 became a seat for him, and how he got the bracelet wand what is it for. His mother smiled, this may be the day she was waiting for.

3.

"Atsumu-san? Atsumu san!" Hinata shouted at the top of his lungs. He's now at the shrine where he and Atsumu agreed to meet. It's early in the morning, and he skipped class just too meet him. Why he'd come there? He wants to see if what happened last night is not a dream.

"Atsumu-san..."

He then started to sob.

"Shoyo-kun?"

When he heard his name being called, he looked at the direction where the voice came from. He started to cry and run towards the guy who called his name.

"Atsumu-san!!!" Hinata held his waist tightly, crying and crying. Atsumu then gently patted his head for comfort.

"What's wrong, kid?"

He then looked up to Atsumu, controlling his tears. "I thought you're just a dream..."

Atsumu then kneeled by Hinata's height and patted his head, giving him a warm smile.

"I'm not a dream, and I will never will."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm always here. So, if you ever need me, just call my name."

"You'll be my friend?"

"Your companion and protector. I promise."

Hinata then wiped off the tears from his eyes. He's full of joy, knowing he has a friend by his side.

Not knowing, Osamu is watching from a distance, right behind tall ancient trees.

Well, back from the small chapter...I'm so sorry. But again, I'll try my best to post a longer and meaningful chapter. No notes for this chapter, I think there's no explaining to do. I already have the plot planned in my head and notes on my notebook so this story will be updating in ease. But for those who are reading this that also read the Hanahaki Series, I apologize to say that that story will be on hiatus for the meantime. I'll be back after a little while, maybe after a few chapters for both T w o  W o r l d s  Series and the plot is getting messy so I have to fix it in the meantime. And yeah, for the next upcoming chapters, I warn you that there may be spoilers for a movie from Studio Ghibli, no not Spirited Away or Howl's Moving Castle but something underrated...

I take breaks on Weekends, so I don't post on Saturdays or Sundays. The schedule will be from Monday to Friday, from maybe 7 am in the morning to around 6-7 pm. Take note of that. And I really appreciate the saves and comments for this story! I really appreciate it!

I'll see you in the next chapter! I may post the next chapter tomorrow...I don't know, based on schedule, I guess?

Oh, by the way, Yui isn't Michimiya from Haikyuu! She's a different person, just the same name.

-Moon

#monsblueberryeyes #atsuhina #hinata #hinata shoyo #shoyo hinata #atsumu #miya #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #haikyū!! #haikyuu!! #hq #hq atsuhina #whisper of the heart #seiji and shizuku #fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #ハイキュー #侑日 #japanese mythology #japan #kitsune #romance #original work

[fanficimagery]

Mimic.

Relationship: Peter/Reader Words: 5, 287 Warnings: none. just a cuss word or two. Tags: Fluff and humor.

Imagine working alongside the Avengers and finding out your schoolmate is SpiderMan. The friendship quickly blossoms and you even wrangle Peter and Ned into matching costumes for Halloween.

Sitting in your last class of the day, you work easily as you piece together a video for an upcoming project Mr. Berman had assigned the class. He had preferred that his students piece together clips of their personal lives, but you weren't keen to let any of your fellow peers get that close of a look at your private life. So after a brief, yet tense, conversation with the teacher after class one day, he agreed to let you piece together whatever video you could come up with.

Immediately you knew what you wanted to do, downloading certain clips of your favorite movies and TV shows, and setting them to a song that you knew would hit people in the feels. The teacher had been skeptical at first, but when you showed him what you had so far one day, he was surprised to see the emotional aspect that even left his chest aching and wanting to see more.

It's while you're working on the video that your phone vibrates against your thigh, you glancing around to see where the teacher is at before pulling your phone out. And seeing that he's engrossed in his own computer at the front of the class, you slip your phone out to check the text.

From Nat to Y/N: Meet me out front 15 min after the final bell. To Nat from Y/N: Copy that.

Wondering why Nat is picking you up, your mind starts going off in different directions. So knowing you're not going to get any more work done, you download your project to your portable USB drive to work on over the weekend at home or wherever it is Nat and the others decide to take you.

The final bell soon rings to signify the end of the school day and you take your precious time getting to your locker. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone other than your locker neighbor, Ned smiling at you and nodding in greeting.

"Hi, Ned."

"Hey, Y/N. Excited for the weekend?"

You shrug as you put in your combination. "Eh. I'll probably watch Disney films and order in Chinese food."

He smiles. "That sounds like a good time."

"The best." Ned's friend walks up to him and you subtly straighten, friendly smile in place. "Hey, Parker."

"Y/N," Peter grins. "Excited for the weekend?" You and Ned both laugh as Peter frowns. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing, man. Anyways, lets go. I got that new Lego set we need to start putting together."

Peter's eyes widen as he glances between Ned and you. "W-What? Lego set? Pfft."

You chuckle as you put your backpack inside your locker and make sure your USB drive is safely in your front jean's pocket. "Calm down, Petey. I'm not Flash. I won't think you're a loser if you and your best friend still play with Legos."

Peter looks as if he's going to say something, but his phone pinging stalls him. He reads something on the screen, his smile falling, and Ned sighs. "Postponed until tomorrow?"

Peter smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, Ned."

"No, it's cool." He then turns to you. "Well I guess I'll see you Monday, Y/N."

"Mhm. Laters, Leeds."

Peter scampers off just as you shut your locker, you smiling one last time at Ned as you make your way towards the bathroom. You waste what's left of your time in the bathroom, fixing yourself to look like school hadn't mussed you up. And then when your phone pings yet again with a message from Nat to tell you she's waiting out front, you exit the bathroom.

There are still a handful of students lingering outside and they're all staring at the shiny black car parked by the curb. The windows are tinted too dark to see through, but the car screams money so everyone is interested to see who gets in or out of it.

Groaning quietly, you duck your head and quickly climb inside the car. Then exhaling dramatically once hidden behind the dark tint, you look over to the grinning blonde. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Whatever. What's up?"

"Mission came up. James suggested you."

You sigh. "Fine." You settle back into your seat, frowning when Natasha drives in the opposite direction of the Tower. "Umm, where are we going?"

Switching lanes and then picking up speed, the blonde grins. "Airport. We need a private jet, not a quinjet. We need to be as inconspicuous as possible."

"Ahh. Okay."

The ride isn't terribly long and by the time they pull into the airport, you and Nat are giggling about the boy you currently have a crush on.

"I don't see why you don't just make a move," she says, handing off her keys to some individual who's going to park her car. "You're cute and this kid sounds adorable. Go for it!"

"It's not- I can't," you grin, chuckling softly. "I might hang out with superheroes, but I am not confident whatsoever when it comes to boys my age."

"Mhm. Sure."

You nudge her as you walk towards the jet, Nat walking up the stairs before you. Then plopping down on the seat closest to the door, you ask, "Can someone please explain to me, in small words, why I'm being assigned to this mission?"

"...Y/N?"

Your heads whips in the direction of the all too familiar voice, eyes widening. "Petey?!"

"Petey?"

"Shut up, Tony," you're quick to grumble, cheeks tinting red as you nervously cross your arms over your chest. The dawning, smug realization on Tony's face is enough to make you gulp. Then looking back at a completely flabbergasted Peter, you ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

You and Peter continue to stare at one another, Tony, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky glancing between the two of you with amused expressions.

"Are they blushing?" Bucky quietly muses.

Natasha grins. "Totally blushing."

"Quiet, Natalia," you snap, narrowing your eyes at the blonde.

"As hilarious as I'm suddenly finding you two, lets get down to business," Tony says. "Peter is Spiderman and Y/N is Mimic."

"What?!"

"Mimic?"

You glance at Peter's confused expression, briefly concentrating and willing your appearance to shift right before his eyes. Feeling the rippling complete, you grin at your friend. "Mimic." Your voice is now deeper, yet still very much feminine as you take on the appearance of Natasha.

Peter's eyes are wide. "O-oh."

"Yeah." Exhaling softly, you change back to your normal appearance and glance at the other adults on the jet. "So what's up? Who's gonna debrief me?"

"It's fairly easy," Steve says. "We need a fresh face, someone our enemies have no knowledge of, to blend in. We've landed you an invitation to a party, so we need you to slip into the main office and download some programming onto the computer in there."

"Okay. Is there a possibility of combat?"

Bucky shrugs. "Only if you get caught, but you've got this, kid. You've trained with the best in both hand-to-hand combat and weapons."

"Yeah. I know." You plop down on one of the benches along the wall of the jet. "What else should I know?" You can't help but glance at Peter, smiling softly when you realize he's still staring at you. He hesitantly smiles back.

"Just in case things go sideways, Natasha, Peter, Bucky, and I will be on standby," Steve says.

Glancing at Tony then, he winks. "I'm just going along for the ride since it is one of my jets they're using. I'm too recognizable to be out there with you all. That and because it was my idea to bring in the other kid."

"Okay, well what about Nat, Steve, and Bucky? They're all recognizable too."

"We'll have photostatic veils." Natasha shrugs. "But us with the veils can't be seen acting suspiciously. You and Peter are the only ones with fresh faces."

"Whoa, wait, what? I can't show my face!"

"Sure you can," Tony says. "Don't worry about it. It'll be fine."

Peter looks like he wants to argue some more, but you speak up and cut him off. "Where's my folder? I need to read what's expected me while we fly."

"Sure." Steve walks over and hands you one of the files detailing the mission. "Don't read too fast. We're flying overseas. You have a long night ahead of you."

"Awesome," you deadpan.

          - X - X - X - X - X -

Having read over the file front to back and speaking to Steve about what you're to do in case things go sideways, you end up towards the back of the jet with one of Tony's spare laptops sitting on the table in front of you as you work on your class video project.

So engrossed on the screen in front of you, you don't realize someone's taken a seat next to you until your arm is nudged. Turning to your right, you grin softly at a clearly tired Peter and take out the left cordless earbud. "What's up?" You mumble quietly.

"What are you working on?"

"Class project. We were originally supposed to piece together home videos," you say, gesturing to the screen, "but I didn't want people to have that close of a look at what goes on in my life outside of school."

He smirks. "Like the fact that you hang out with Avengers? Or about Mimic?"

"Exactly. So instead I took clips from my favorite movies and TV shows, and placed a song to the scenes."

"Ooh. What song?"

You hand him the earbud you'd taken out with a grin and restart your half finished video for him to watch. "It's called Find You by Ruelle."

Peter settles in and watches what you currently have, and when it's done he glances at you in surprise. "That song is kind of.. hauntingly beautiful?"

"Right?"

"Are you trying to make your classmates cry?"

"Eh. It wasn't my attention, but if they cry at least I know I did a good job."

"Don't worry. You've done an awesome job so far."

Smiling at Peter, you can't help but nudge him in retaliation when his words of praise bring a heat to your cheeks. He knows the effect his words have had you if his twinkling eyes are anything to go by. "Knock it off, Spiderboy."

"Man. SpiderMan."

"Whatever. Wanna watch a movie?"

Peter chuckles and nods. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well since Halloween is just about a week away.." you trail off, saving the progress on your project before closing it out and bringing up your all time favorite Halloween movie.

"Hocus Pocus?" Peter muses. "Aunt May loves this movie."

"Yeah? Well settle in, Petey. We're watching it."

As the opening credits start, you arrange the screen so the both of you can see it perfectly as you lean back in your seat. Then seated back you realize just how close Peter is to you as your biceps are pressed together. He smiles as you lean against each other, earbud in place to hear the movie.

Fifteen minutes in and Peter's gone completely relaxed, his head on your shoulder. You continue to mumble along to the movie- word for word- and lightly smack Peter when he pokes fun at you for knowing the words by heart.

Forty minutes in and your head falls against the top of Peter's. He snuggles in and you smile at the adorableness of it all, and the two of you continue to watch the movie in peace.

You don't know when your eyes slip shut, but they do, and you're only woken back up when a blanket is being tucked around your left shoulder. Sleepily blinking open your eyes, you frown at Natasha. "What-"

"Shh," she quiets you. "We're still en-route. Go back to sleep."

"Okay." You glance to your right and are surprised to find Peter sleeping against you.

Smiling, you let your eyes slip shut once more. "It's him, isn't it?" Your eyes blink back open at Natasha's words. "The boy you like?"

"I-" She grins knowingly and you exhale softly. "It doesn't matter. He's.. Petey. And now that I know he's Spiderman? He's even more out of my league."

"Don't sell yourself short, Y/N." Smiling sadly, you shrug off Nat's words and try not to hurt your own feelings too much by realizing again that you don't have a chance with the cute boy asleep on your shoulder. "And for what it's worth, we're pretty sure he likes you back."

"Why do you say that?"

"Boys with crushes talk. And apparently Peter's talked to Tony. A lot."

"Whatever you say, Nat. Wake me up when we get there."

The next time Cap tells you a mission is going to be easy as pie, you're going to remind him of this particular mission. Everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong, and you're the one who walked away with the most damage. You're grateful your identity will forever remain a secret, but it sucks that you don't have any nifty powers that allow you to heal faster. Instead, you're stuck with your average human healing abilities.

"I hate you guys," you mumble as Bucky carefully lowers you onto the jet bench. "I think my shoulder is dislocated."

"I'll take a look." As Bucky carefully cuts the strap to your dress to leave your left shoulder bare, he tuts at what he sees. "Want me to fix it?"

"If you can. Just give me a moment." Bucky hums, but just as you attempt to calm your breathing he's shoving your arm back into its socket. "SON OF A MOTHERFUCKER!" Tony and Peter enter the jet just as the words leave your mouth, Tony smirking and Peter gaping. "You're such an asshole, Barnes!"

"Language."

"Fuck you, Rogers. I'm a measly human. I heal slowly. I'm allowed all the curse words in the world."

Natasha enters behind Steve, smirking. "Cheer up, buttercup. You held your own perfectly."

"Yeah? Tell that to my shoulder, my stomach, and my face."

Steve hands you an ice pack for your face and you take it with a tight smile. "I'm just gonna head back into the bedroom and change. Do you guys need anything else from me?"

"No. You're good," Steve says. "Good job out there, Mimic."

"Thanks, Cap."

Limping back towards the bedroom, you toss the ice pack down while opening up one of the fancy closets built into the wall. You pull out a sports bra, a racerback tank top, and some cotton shorts. Then quickly changing, hissing through the pain, you settle onto the bed and lay down while icing down the side of your face.

Some time later, after you've managed to sit up and settle against the mountain of pillows, there's a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Peter pokes his head in. "Want some company? The adults are a bore."

Smiling tiredly, you beckon him in. "Sure. Come on in, Petey."

As he enters the room, you perk up when you see he's brought the laptop with him. "Mind if I sit? Mr. Barnes also said to give you these. Said that they're your favorite," he says as he reaches behind him into his pocket.

"Not at all." Peter pulls a package from the back pocket of his jeans and your eyes light up at the Strawberry Sour Punch straws he has. "Oh my god. Bucky might have given you the idea, but since you brought me the candy you're officially my favorite, Parker."

He crawls onto the bed with you, settling at your side with the laptop in his lap and hands you the candy. His fingers drum against the closed lid as he asks, "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better. I can't wait to get home and soak in an ice bath."

"I bet," he chuckles quietly. Silence briefly settles between the two of you before he's talking again. "So.. Mimic, huh?"

"Mhm. And Spiderman. How did that happen?"

"Believe it or not, it was a radioactive spider." You laugh in disbelief, but he assures you it's true. "What about you? Is it only people you can change into or animals too?"

"Just people," you tell him. "I can shift into another person to match them identically or, as you saw for the mission, change my features to whatever is needed and make up a completely new person."

"That's an awesome super power."

You shrug, blushing lightly. "It has its perks."

Peter grins at you and then clears his throat, opening the laptop up in his lap. "So since we saw your Halloween movie, it's only fair we watch mine."

"That's fair." You open the candy, pulling free a sugar coated gummy straw and bite into it. "Want some?"

"In a moment." Peter searches through the movies on the laptop and you're excited to see what he's going to choose. "Okay. Here we go."

He settles back and gets comfortable, reaching to grab a candy from the little plastic tray they came in. "Casper?" You muse. "Nice choice, Petey."

The two of you fall quiet as the movie starts, you immediately leaning against one another. The candy is quickly eaten and brief laughter is heard throughout the room. The part where Kat is on the verge of sleep when Casper is hovering over her, asking quietly can I keep you? comes to pass and you awe out loud.

Hooking your arm through Peter's, you lay your head on his shoulder. "I don't care if he's a ghost. That's so goddamn adorable."

"You're adorable."

Your heart beats triple, but you keep your cheek pressed to Peter's shoulder to avoid looking at him. "Shush, you."

He chuckles quietly, but does as he's told.

Casper gets turned into a real boy for the final dance of the Halloween party inside Kat's home and Peter smiles as you quietly squeal. The infamous words, can I keep you?, are spoken yet again and Peter can't help but laugh out loud at your reaction.

"Don't shame me. It's so freakin' cute!"

"If you say so."

You and Peter keep the movies Halloween themed up until the fourth movie, you switching it up and putting on UP.

"I love this movie so much."

By now you're laying down, practically draped over Peter's chest. You had originally thought it'd be weird, but Peter went with the flow and tucked one arm behind his head while the other traced random patterns on your back.

"It's great, but the beginning is just so sad for an animated movie."

You sigh softly. "Agreed." You watch Carl and Ellie through the years, your heart aching for the animated couple. "I need more friends," you mumble. "Someone I can strong-arm into dressing up as Mr. Fredricksen to my Ellie. Maybe even get a Russell."

"And Mr. Fredricksen can walk around with a bouquet of balloons." You gasp as you pause the movie, pushing up onto the palms of your hands and hovering over Peter as you stare at him in realization. His smile slowly falls and he quickly shakes his head. "No."

"Please?"

"No, Y/N."

"Come on," you pout. "It's perfect. We can even wrangle Ned into being Russell."

Against his better judgement, Peter laughs. "No. Besides, it's too close to Halloween. We won't find costumes."

"Uh, hello." You swat at him. "We have Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff on our side. And I'm sure your aunt May would just love to help out after we pitch the costume idea."

"Y/N.."

"Peter, please?"

He continues to stare at you until his gaze softens. "Fine."

"Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you." You beam, quickly falling back down on him before you can do something stupid (like kiss his cheek), and press play on the movie again.

With one arm draped across his abdomen and your ear resting over his heart, you can't wipe the smile from your face as you hear his rapidly beating heart thump away.

          - X - X - X - X - X -

"Rise and shine, kiddos. It's time to get up." Nothing. You hear the feminine voice, but you choose to ignore it. The arm around you tightens and you turn your face into Peter's chest. "Seriously, guys, get up. As adorable as this is, we've landed."

"Nat," you whine. "Get out."

"Like I said- adorable. You guys have ten minutes."

The door is shut and you sigh, pinching Peter's side when you feel him laughing. "M'sorry I fell asleep on you."

"I'm not. That was the best sleep I've had in awhile." As Peter starts to stretch, you roll over onto your back and do the same. "You always this grumpy?"

"Only when I'm still tired." You whimper and wince at the pain still lingering in your shoulder, and sigh and you sit up. "How's my face?"

Facing Peter, you close your eyes and let him inspect you. "I honestly thought it was going to be a lot worse than what it is. Your split lip is the worst of it."

"Awesome," you deadpan as he scoots out of bed. Then yawning, you gesture for him to go on. "I'll catch up with you later. We'll discuss costumes Monday at school."

"Alright." He lingers by the door and you smile softly at him as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. His face seems flushed, but you've no idea why. "Yeah. I'll just- I'll see you later."

Peter exits the room and you allow yourself a brief laugh. Then making sure your hair isn't a mess, you exit the room where everyone but Peter is lingering around still, smirks on every face there. "I don't want to hear it."

"Adorable," Natasha muses.

"We had to keep Stevie from marching in there and separating you two," Bucky then says.

You wrinkle your nose. "We slept. Well we watched movies and then slept. Nothing scandalous went on."

Tony waffles his eyebrows. "So you gonna ask him out?"

"Ugh. Don't make it weird. We're hanging out on Halloween and I rather not be a stuttering, flustered mess."

"Aw. No horror movie marathon this year?" Steve frowns.

"Sorry, bub." Then looking between Nat and Tony, you ask, "Do either of you know someone in the makeup department who can make latex wrinkles for the face? I need to age up Peter for his costume. And probably a seamstress who can tailor our outfits once we find them."

Natasha immediately shrugs. "Sure. What are you going as?"

Smiling, you tell them. "Mr. Fredricksen and Ellie from that animated movie UP. I'm going to try and rope our friend Ned into being Russell, so we'll also need someone who can make an adult Boy Scout outfit for him."

"That.. is the most adorable thing I've ever heard." Tony says. "Don't worry about a thing. You and your friends stop by the tower after you convince your Russell to join you and we'll get everything squared away. The only payment I'll require is pictures. Pepper loves that movie."

"Done and done. Thanks, Tony."

As it turns out, Ned didn't need any convincing at all after hearing the costume idea. He was immediately game for it all, much to Peter's amusement. And then to make the deal even sweeter, the boys were relieved to learn that Tony Stark himself was taking care of everything they needed under the supervision of the Black Widow. Ned, of course, knew all about Peter's identity, so he didn't really bat an eye about the Avengers doing this stuff for them, but he was curious as to how you fit in. So after a couple days of dealing with Ned's suspicious behavior, you thought it only fair you come clean to him about Mimic.

Needless to say, Ned was super stoked to have two enhanced individuals that he could call friends.

Then in the days leading up to Halloween, Ned and Peter would not leave you be. You were friends to begin with, though you mostly spoke between classes, but now they purposely sought you out- Ned to make sure you guys wanted him to be Russell and Peter because.. well you weren't really sure. He was always smiling, flushed, and kept sheepishly ducking his head when you laughed at something he said.

Halloween was then here and the three of you rushed to Tony's tower to change. Peter was the only one who needed a professional makeup artist to age him up, and then later had a white substance sprayed into his hair and eyebrows for the elderly man look. You easily shifted your features and hair color, aging yourself up and then adding some glasses to match the age you made Peter portray as Mr. Fredricksen.

When Peter steps out in black framed glasses, a white button up, suspenders, and brown corduroy pants, your heart melts. "Oh my god," you gush. "Petey!"

He chuckles. "Looking good, Ellie."

You're wearing a green pant suit and flats, your blazer cinched at the waist with a brown belt, and a purple flower pinned to the right side of your chest. "Right back at 'ya, Carl."

"Alright, Alright. I will admit this is cute," Sam says as he leans against the wall. Mostly everyone had come to the tower to hand out candy down in the main lobby. "You did good, kids."

"Wait for it," Tony smirks. "It gets better."

Another door opens and Natasha walks out, chuckling. "This was seriously the cutest idea ever."

Ned walks out then, a book in hand with a miniaturized version of the movie poster for UP plastered on the front. He fixes his sash- which bears badges for every Avenger, Spiderman, Mimic, Stark Industries, and the logo for their high school- across his chest, beaming. Then walking up to Tony, he opens the book and pretends to read from it. "Good afternoon! My name is Russell and I am a Wilderness Explorer. Are you in need of any assistance today, sir?"

"No."

The group gathered around all laugh and Tony claps Ned in the shoulder. "When Pepper walks in, please say that to her. She's going to love it, kid."

"Goddammit," Sam then grumbles. "You kids gather around. My momma needs to see this," he says while taking his phone out.

"Not yet!" You're quick to say. "Our costumes aren't complete yet."

"No? What the hell else is there? If you got someone to dress up as a bird and squawk at random people, I'm done."

Peter and Ned snicker, shaking their heads. The elevator then dings, and out walk Steve and Bucky with an insane amount of helium filled balloons of every color.

"There. Now you can take our picture."

The balloons get handed to Peter as you and Ned flank him. Bucky also hands over a cane, chuckling while muttering about Peter being the old man now, and the trio have to endure picture after picture.

The elevator dings yet again, this time Pepper being let off. "Tony? What was so important that you made me come down as soon as possible?"

Tony coughs and nudges Ned. "You're on."

Stumbling forward, Ned fumbles with the book. He stops in front of Pepper and nervously clears his throat. "Good afternoon! My name is Russell and I am a Wilderness Explorer. Are you in need of any assistance today, ma'am?"

Pepper's eyes actually tear up as her laugh resonates around the room. "You guys! You're so adorable!"

"Thank you, Miss Potts," Peter says.

"Yes, thank you, Pepper," you smile, waving at her.

Her eyes widen. "Y/N?"

"In the flesh."

"Oh, Tony. Please tell me you got pictures."

"We did. Lots of them."

"While we'd love to stay and chat, we really should go," Peter then says. "We'll walk around for about an hour before coming back here to greet the kids with you guys."

"Sounds good. Have fun, you three," Steve says.

          - X - X - X - X - X -

Trick-or-Treating for your own candy is a bit hard when everyone really loves your costume. You have no idea how many times you've been stopped and asked to have a picture taken- either just you, Peter, and Ned, or you three with a child who'd been a fan of the movie- but it's still a fun night nonetheless.

When you return to the tower, it's a full blown mad house. Everyone seems to want to take advantage and enter the tower to meet the Avengers, but Tony and the others had made it clear the candy was for children and those with special needs when it became too much. The overzealous, adult fans had to be turned away and in the end the line outside was cut down a significant amount.

"Has it been like this the entire time?" You ask, sidling up next to Bucky. He nods. "Damn."

"Excuse me, miss? Do you think my kids can get a picture with you and the others in costume from the movie UP?"

Bucky grins. "Looks like you're up, kid."

You turn to the mother who'd asked the question and smile. "Sure thing. Let me just go get them."

So as the Avengers pass out candy to overeager children, you, Peter, and Ned pose for pictures with even more children. Halfway through, however, a familiar tune starts to play throughout the lobby. It's the Married Life tune from UP, the song that plays while the movie flash forwards from Carl and Ellie's wedding up until her death. You giggle, swaying back and forth in place, as the music gets louder. Everyone starts to take notice, oohhing and awwing.

"Would you- would you like to dance?" Peter nervously asks.

You glance at him, eyebrows raising in surprise. "What?"

"Dance. With me," Peter says, gulping. "I'm not the best, but we can keep it simple."

Slowly smiling, you laugh with a nod. "Sure. Lets do this."

Peter takes your hand and leads you out into the middle of the crowd, and you nervously laugh. "Oh my god. Is it weird that I'm nervous?"

"No. I am too."

Meeting his gaze, you furrow your brow as you seem just how nervous he actually is. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah! Yeah. I'm just- excited."

You chuckle. "Okay. If you say so."

With your right hand encased in Peter's left and raised out, near shoulder level, your left hand lays on his shoulder while his free hand goes to your waist. The steps are rather simple, Peter leading you in a box step before turning and then doing it all over again. Every now and then he twirls you, much to everyone's ooh's and aww's, and you always come back to him with a laugh.

"Natasha was right, you know?" He suddenly blurts. "That day on the plane."

"What?"

W-We fell asleep watching movies. Or at least you thought I fell asleep, but I was awake. Natasha figured out it was me who you liked."

Your smile falls. "Peter.."

"I like you too." His eyes subtly widen at his quick admission and you can't help it. You snort and that seems to put him at ease once more. "If anyone is out of anyone's league, it's you. You are so far out of my league. Even Ned makes jokes-"

"Peter?" You cut him off.

"Yeah?"

"Just kiss me already."

He smiles wide before hesitantly leaning in to press his lips to yours, but the moment is ruined when Tony's voice resonates around the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Fredricksen, keep it PG. There are children still here."

You and Peter jerk back from one another, blushing, and you narrow your eyes when you see Sam reluctantly handing over money to a smirking Bucky.

Of course they'd make a bet on you and Peter.

#fanficimagery #imagine #marvel imagine #peter parker imagine #spiderman imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter x reader #peter x you #peter parker #marvel #avengers #natasha romanoff #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers #ned leeds #pepper potts #sam wilson

[ughthatimagineblog]

When John Met. . .

john mulaney x reader

prompt: you’d loved him for years, before, during and after his fame, but what happens when you close your heart and he tries to win you over? oh, by the way, it’s in front of millions of people. requested: @lundqvistisgod warnings: cursing? kissing? word count:4232 a/n: jesus christ idk why it took me so long to shit this out. it was a beautiful prompt and the idea for the skit came to me from my fave fave fave rom com ever pls enjoy

       You knew you wanted to be a writer, but staring at screens all day with the accompanying hum of machinery is not what you had pictured when you would think of your dream job. It never occured to you that maybe writing isn’t as simple as just “writing”. It had, but of course you were blindsided by the glitz and glamour of the flashing lights you had in your mind when it came to success in your dream career. Writing for Saturday Night Live was a dream… Sometimes. A lot of the time it was constant meetings with producers, stuck up famous people, more writers and interns that didn't know what the hell was going on. But at the same time, neither did you.

       However, there was something off about this draft for next week’s show. It didn’t have a host written in. You looked over your computer to Pete who was also clicking away at his desk. You had come to be quite fond of him over the past couple of years. You were about the same age but you met him when you were also a clueless intern, prime in your senior year of university and he was only slightly more familiar to the studio than you were and just a little bit more outgoing which made him the perfect person to cling onto while you learned the ropes. It didn’t matter whatever you went through, he was there to help and it often saddened you to think of the day he moves on and expands his career without you. It was something you didn’t enjoy dwelling on and out of all the ups and downs you both had been through, you know you’d never trade them for the world.

    One of the biggest issues you’d had that Pete had helped you with was John. Yes, John Mulaney. You’d met him towards the end of your intern years as you were invited back as a full time employee and writer for the show and he changed your life. He gave Pete a run for his money and even caused a little fight between you both while all three of you were first writing for SNL. You had spent so much time with John it drove Pete wild and he didn’t understand it until he drove you to confess your feelings for him. You and Pete knew you hadn’t had much luck with guys or felt so strongly for someone since high school so it was kind of a big deal for you. Alas, it did not last long and you were given the chance to move on as John left the show to pursue his standup career which turned out to be fruitful.

      You remember seeing his shows start popping up on Netflix and then he’d have new ones every now and then, still performing in New York. You even went to see a few a couple years ago. But over time your frequent conversations became, well, less frequent. Every day turned into every week, every week into every month and every month into every year and then not at all. The world kept turning and he had forgotten. 

     By the time he’d returned to SNL to write you’d figured he’d become another washed up celebrity you both used to snicker at. You’d assumed the jabs in his shows were just quips to pander to audiences that were alien to celebrity life and not genuine like they would’ve been years ago. Now he was almost thirty two, much more skilled in his practice and you were closing in on twenty five and still at the same job you started at just with a higher pay raise and a little more creative freedom.

     It pained you sometimes to see him around, to be forced to interact with him. There have been several late nights with your pal Pete where you would just rant about John and how hellish it was having to work with him again. Of course, Pete would listen and offer sage where he could but overall you would do most of the talking. At one point, he asked if you’d even spoken to him to see if your assumptions were true. You admitted you hadn’t. At least not in any way that had been genuine. You worked with him so of course you had to speak with him but not for longer than moments at a time and not for any more than a few words. It was all you’d offer John. It broke you when he left, it broke you again when he changed, something still unconfirmed but you were sure of it, and you couldn’t allow yourself to be broken again. Your fingers flicked the edge of a packet of paper idly as you debated asking Pete for help on the somewhat empty screen plan in front of you. He looked busy, like he didn’t want to be bothered and had better things to do. Besides, you were starting to feel bad about how much you ranted to him. Of course you let him rant to you as well but it was nothing compared to what you needed to let off and you could tell how much it was wearing on him. Little did you know, though, that Pete wasn’t necessarily tired of your rants, he was more tired of being the middleman. John, since coming back to SNL had been coming to him for advice as well. He knew that Pete was your closest friend and wanted to know how to get close to you again so John would go to Pete. They’d exchange emails and text, even going out for a beer a couple times a week all without your knowledge. Well, Pete would have a beer, John would go for the water or tea. If Pete let you find out, he knew just how angry you’d be and how you’d never let him live it down and he’d go down as the traitor friend who let her long time unrequited love just walk back into their lives with no fight. But that’s exactly how it was. Pete and John became really good friends since he had come back and actually found more things in common than just ‘you’. During this formed friendship, Pete learned John actually felt for you. In more ways than he had ever led on.

      You sighed, finally caving in and opened your mouth to ask Pete why there were blanks in the forms when one of the interns walked into the office with a bouquet of flowers. Pete’s eyes quickly looked up from the monitor to the intern and back to you with a questioning look. Only a moment more and you stood. “Um, hi, can we help you?” You said, voice soft. “Yeah, these flowers are for a,” The intern paused to look at the note in her hands. “Y/N.” They looked back to you expectantly. “Oh, that’s me. Are you sure that’s correct?” You asked, doubt lacing your voice as you looked between Pete and the intern. They nodded, showing you the card. Sure enough your name was written in calligraphy and signed, ‘Secret Admirer’. You smiled, furrowing your brows a bit in confusion. “All right. Well, thank you.” You took the flowers from the temp’s arms and set them on your desk, staring at the card.

      “Well?” Pete’s voice jolted you from your train of thought. Looking up from the piece of paper between your fingers you saw his expecting expression. “It’s from a secret admirer.” You laughed, giving the card to Pete. He smiled, shuffling in his seat as he turned it over in his hands. “Someone in the office likes you.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah well, very funny Pete but valentines day isnt until next year.” You turned back to your desk, ready to work again, already forgetting about your earlier question. “It wasn’t me.” His tone was serious. Looking back up at him, his face matched his voice. “You mean this wasn’t a joke?” He shook his head and you returned to your work, noticing your coworker had sent you a couple emails regarding a different project and for the rest of the day, the blanks in the form and the anonymous love had been forgotten.

      For the next week, conversation with John had grown and you realized, maybe, he wasn’t as stuck up as you had previously believed. He was still kind, still funny, and still knew you better than most. But you were still wary, moving farther away when he would get close enough to, what seemed like, hear your heartbeat. Or sometimes he would say something that would edge between friendly and flirty and you’d change the subject, shutting it down before your face could heat up. But even as the interactions frequented, so did the flowers.

       Followed by chocolates, and gifts that were surprisingly personal to you, each coming with a new note that became more detailed over time and by Monday, table work day, it was obvious your admirer was on the writing team for this upcoming Saturday. You smiled as you unveiled the card tucked into the sleeve of the coffee cup before you, which by the way, was ordered to your specific liking. Amused, you turned to Pete, leaning on your desk, reading the note out loud. “I hope you enjoy this special cup of your favorite blend. I’m looking forward to seeing you later today- later today?” You paused, surprised. Pete’s eyebrows shot up as a mischievous grin spread across his face.

       “They must be in the table room for later.” Pete shrugged, leaning back in his chair, biting on the end of his pen with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Must be.” You giggled. “Nice sweatshirt by the way.” Pete said with a pointed look. You looked down and felt your face heat up with the realization. You had bought a shirt online with a reference to one of John’s show’s on it. Despite everything you had claimed, you still admired him and were proud. You were really just scared of getting hurt. “You know it’s nothing to be ashamed of but-“ He checked the time. “We have to get to the meeting.” You nodded grabbing your coffee and the notebook, heading out the door with Pete.

        You were halfway down the long hallway towards the table room when it finally dawned on you. “Oh yeah, Pete, there was a mistake in my forms. Who is the host? The spot was blank?” You asked as he reached for the handle and opened the door. You walked into the room, still waiting for a reply from your friend. You wouldn’t get one. Sitting at the table was two other writers you were not super familiar with and then John. John Mulaney sat at the head of the table. One of the writers turned to you and smiled. “Y/N, John’s going to be our host this week.” Shutdown. Your brain began to shut down. This meant youd work with him more. Every day for a lot longer than just a few seconds. You were so shocked you didn’t feel the hot coffee that was now on your hands as you had squeezed the cup too hard. 

      “Oh, shit.” You cursed, face heating up and the horrid chain of events unfolding before you. John’s face changed from smiling to concerned as he leapt up from his seat to help assist in the cleanup.

    You stood in the breakroom, water from the sink left running as you leaned against the sink while John was applying Neosporin onto your burn. “Does it hurt?” He asked softly, eyes focused solely on the injury before him. “No, not anymore.” You managed to get out. He was so close. Your cheeks felt hot and even though he towered over you, the proximity made him feel small. “I told you, it’s not that big of a deal-“ You were cut off by him shushing you. “Hey, I wanted to help so I’m helping.” You rolled your eyes as he finally made eye contact again. “You’re wasting time.” He scoffed. “Pete and Megan can handle it for a while.” You shook your head and it fell silent. “Nice sweatshirt.” He grinned. “Shut up.” He laughed and your heart clenched in your chest. You loved his laugh. “No animosity. It’s a good bit.” He turned to reach for the bandaid. “Yeah, a lot of people seem to think so.” You said, a hint of venom in your tone.” His eyes shot to yours. “Is there something wrong?” John’s voice has both concern and hurt in his voice.

       “No. Put the bandaid on.” John’s hand withdrew. “No, now I know something’s wrong.” You looked at him and sighed. “You’ve just been gone and you’re different.” You confessed. “I’m different?” You nodded, crossing your arms, flinching and then uncrossing them. He muttered a “Give it here.” before taking your hand again and dabbing it with a cool cloth more. “You left a long time ago and it was hard seeing you go. And then it- you got really really big and famous and soon enough you were just like them.” Your words felt small saying them aloud. His expression was incredulous. “Like them? Like who? Like the people we used to shit on? Y/N, I’m not ‘like them’. I haven’t changed. But every time I’ve tried to show you that since being back you’ve backed away. Pulled away. If anything you’ve changed.” Your head snapped up at him, a ping of hurt went through you.

      “I have not changed. I just don’t know when you’re going to leave again so I’d rather not lead my own feelings on and let you get close to me again just for you to run off again.” Your eyes closed after you finished confessing, only in the back of your mind registering what you had told him.

       “Your feelings for me?” He asked and your eyes opened. “Yes. And I’d rather not re-open that wound if you’re just going to run off again. But thank you, for trying.” You grabbed the band aid from his hands, which were shaking but you were too quick to notice, and left. You left him in that break room with no room for a response or time to register. You didn’t want or care to know his response.

     Saturday finally came and so did the end of working within more-than-close proximity with John. He had talked to you the same amount as the days before, not mentioning what you had told him, treating you just the same and eventually your heart sank at his indirect answer to how he felt in return. But the secret admirer never stopped sending gifts. Another cup of coffee, more flowers, your apartment was filled with them, and more food. By the time your last gift came in today, you marched down to the other writer for Saturday’s episode, Michael’s office to tell him to stop. You knew it was him, especially after Monday. At first it was sweet but at this point you didn’t like him that way and knew you had to tell him.

    You knocked on the threshold and leaned in the frame. Michael’s eyes popped up from his desktop and smiled when he saw you. This was going to be hard. “Hey, Mike, I just wanted to say thank you for all these little gifts but,” You walked further into the room to make sure you two were alone. “I don’t like you in that way. I’m sorry. I just have feelings for someone else and you’re a great guy, and I-“ 

      “Stop, stop, stop. I didn’t send you those gifts.” Michael said, a smile on his face. “What?” He chuckled. “Yeah, those gifts that intern’s been delivering? Those aren’t from me. Thanks for thinking it was me, but they weren’t.” He smiled with a closed mouth before returning to work.

     You left his office perplexed. Who could it have been? Maybe Pete had been doing it as a joke. You would wait until he got off of lunch to confront him and tell him how mean that was but for now there was work to do and a show to air.

      Night fell and Pete returned just as everyone was preparing for places and you nearly stabbed him with your own finger when he got back. “You asshole!” His arms flew up and the couple steps he took back from you were staggered. “What the fuck?” People shoved past as you pressed on. “You sent all that bullshit to me?” Pete’s face turned on a dime as he registered what you implied. “No! I did not!”

      “Do not lie to me, I talked to Michael, he didn’t send them.” You claimed, crossing your arms, brows furrowed so deep you felt like you hadn’t moved your face for ages. “Of course it wasn’t Michael. Michael is gay, Y/N. But that’s not even the top reason why it wouldn’t be him.” You shrugged, throwing your arms and feeling one of them flop to your thigh as your other hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Then who did?” You released the bridge and looked up with a questioning gaze. Pete only returned with an equally expectant stare.

     It registered and your turned towards the cast hallway in horror and surprise. “No.” Your voice sounded distant, even to your own ears. You stood there, frozen, people bumping into you in a hurry as they passed. What was really ten seconds felt like thirty minutes before Pete sighed. “Yes, it was him.”

       “And you didn’t tell me?”

“He wanted it to be a surprise! He told me this is what he was going to do and holy shit, finally. I was so sick and tired of you both secretly pining for each other like, what kinda bullshit is that?” Pete rambled for a few moments before finding your unresponsiveness a little tiring and walking off. Your feet moved you before your brain did after that. Back to your office, to put away a couple folders given to you by some bustling assistants, cameramen or more interns, then they carried you back while the anxiety built up. You came back to see John take his place, an assistant handed him a bottle of water and he took a drink, catching your eye. The director began to count. You smiled and he waved back and they hit five seconds. The audience was in place, you were next to camera man A, aka James to oversee how well the script ran and soon enough, John began hosting.

             His bit ended sooner than expected and he came straight up to you the moment the cameras were off of him. “Was that okay?” He asked, half jogging up to you, nearly chugging the water he was given. “Yeah, you did great.” You nodded, offering to hold the bottle for him but he shook his head in response. Your head was still reeling, not forgetting about the fact he was the one to send those gifts but not knowing how to ask about it. “I have to do a couple more skits before I can bring you on.” He admitted, signaling you to walk with him. “What?”

       “I talked to Lorne and Don. They agreed to let you do a skit with Aidy and I. It’s close to the end and I talked to Inga. She agreed to do your makeup and hair while I go on to do my other ones.” You failed to speak as he explained and all you could do was stutter. “I won’t even know what to say? This is not what we wrote.” You tried to weasel your way out of it. “It’s an improve. You’ll do fine. Kate comes in around the middle so if you start dying she can help.” He nodded with reassurance as you reached his dressing room and opened the door to meet Inga, Louie and Cara. “Oh god.”

     You waited in his room long after he left. His costume changers were also there to help, which you were booted for, but welcomed back in as he went on. They changed you into your costume which fit you surprisingly well. Well cut skinny jeans and a nice shirt. Inga did your makeup to compliment your face and eyes and your hair to complete everything. “I must be one of the normal ones in this one, huh?” You quipped and Inga just smiled which, admittedly, worried you. Just as you were about to dwell on it too much, the door opened and Stella, the girl you liked to call the cue girl, opened the door and waved you out. Your breath was shaky and steps were uneven as you made the trek to the stage. She informed you they had three minutes until the commercial break was over, the musical guest would introduce the skit and they would signal you to go on with John. You nodded adamantly, not bothering to tell her you knew how the show ran in fear of throwing up the moment you opened your mouth. Three minutes passed faster than they should have and right before you were about to ask about them rigging the clock, John came up, dragged you to side stage and whispered “Break a leg.” You smiled up at him and his eyes found yours with a soft look. It felt safe. The musical guest walked onto the main stage and introduced the skit. “New Years Eve” they had announced and before you could think of how odd it was, considering it was August, they started counting you down from behind the camera and it was also only then you realized the room was packed with extras all wearing party clothes. You recognize the scene immediately.       “When Harry Met Sally.” You muttered. The camera guy’s hands counted down from ten as Aidy rushed you into place. “When John Met Y/N.” She said and winked, walking away. “What?” You asked, panic and confusion now flooded you. The room was so crowded and she was gone before the man hit five. Four… Three… Two… One… Everyone in the room began counting down as the music kicked up and the twinkling of party decor littered the set. Your confusion was appreciated but genuine as John approached you. He had the nerve to drag you into this. Your confusion turned to anger and you no longer cared. “Dammit, John, what the hell is this?” You made a vague gesture around the room. It was improv technically, or at least, you could play it like it was. The look in his eyes told you he knew it wasn’t. “You drag me into your crap the moment you come back like nothing has changed? And you sent me all that other stuff like nothing has happened? Don’t you care about me? Because if you did, you’d know you can’t just walk back into my life like that. It doesn’t work that way.” Your heart gasped. You’d said it. “Well, I do care about you. I care about the way you bite your lip when you get real nervous,” He wasn’t.      “I care about how you can never make up your mind whether you want tea or coffee and how, despite claiming you hate me, you still wear my sweatshirt. And most of all I care about how, even after all this time, your laugh hasn’t changed a bit and even after I leave work and go home to my apartment at night, I can still hear it in my head. Away from home, that's what I missed most. And come to think of it, you are what I missed most and it killed me you never knew how much I loved you before I left.” He finished and it took a few moments for the blood to stop rushing in your ears long enough to realize the crowd had stopped counting and you could hear the tail end of the audience’s ‘awe’. “And all this?”       “Surprise.” He whispered sheepishly, coming close to your, his arms coming up to your biceps as you had crossed your arms earlier. “You’re an asshole, yknow that?” You smiled, as he leaned down to kiss you. “Believe me, I know.” Your lips brushed his and he smiled through the tender kiss before pulling away. The audience clapped as you both pulled from each other. You looked around. “Did you plan all this just to ask me out on a skit?” You realized cameras were still rolling. He nodded and turned to the camera. “That’s right folks, you just witnessed an elaborate plan to ask the love of my life out on a date instead of an actual skit. That’s something you just paid money for. Thank you all for watching… “ You turned away from him and the giggling audience to find Pete off stage. You smiled softly at him and mouthed ‘thank you’. He smiled and winked in return. “... And goodnight!” John finished and came back to kiss you more as the credits rolled and the music resumed. Maybe he wasn’t stuck up, but he was right about one thing. Famous people are weird.

#john mulaney bull question mark #john mulaney #john mulaney x reader #john mulaney imagine #john mulaney x you

[softboywriting]

Serendipity | Shawn Mendes | Werewolf AU

Summary: After a very drunk one night stand you end up pregnant and you’re still searching for the guy you slept with, wondering if he could be your mate. Five months in and Shawn walks into your life and you think you just might have found your actual mate after all. [pregnancy] [mates] [werewolf au] [fluff]

Word Count: 4k

|Masterlist In Bio|

“Y'know, I still can't believe you got pregnant from a one night stand,” Maci says from behind the register after a customer leaves, the bell chiming upon their exit. You look over to her and she raises her eyebrows, long red hair falling to the side as she tilts her head. She is your best friend and business partner, just like the sister you never had.

“It's been five months for goodness sake. When will you stop saying that?” You laugh and turn away from restocking your homemade lavender sleep lotion. “I'm having this baby whether or not you believe it.”

“I mean obviously, that balloon is gonna pop in no time. I'm just still in awe you want to be a single mom. Why not adopt it out?”

You sigh. “We've been over this. Unlike you, I want children. And also unlike you, I'm a werewolf and I want to hold out for my mate, who I'm pretty sure doesn't exist anymore or I actually missed him and ended up with this.” You pat your striped shirt over your bulging belly.

“Still no luck? You've tried like every missed connections app for mates. And nothing? What about that one guy, Mike?”

“Micah. He was lying. As soon as he found out I was pregnant he ran faster than a Scooby Doo villain.”

Maci rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I remember now. He was the guy with the frosted tips right?”

“Yep. What a douchebag.”

Maci chuckles and comes around the counter to help you lift a crate full of bath bombs onto the shelf . You chit chat more about how you're pretty sure the guy you slept with probably lives way out of town or something. She theorizes that he is actually a spy who can never reveal his identity to keep you safe. It's a good laugh, but honestly you wish you could find him. He felt so right. It hurts to think you've missed him entirely.

___________________________

The shop door chimes and you look up from the computer at the register. You've been filling orders with Maci all morning. Christmas was approaching and everyone wanted homemade bath and body care. It helps that you saved enough to get a local ad spot on the news website, and it's definitely paying off big time.

As you glance to see who's come in and greet them, you're taken aback. The man who's come in looks familiar, though you aren't sure why. He definitely didn't go to high school with you and Maci. He also wasn't a regular. Maybe he just had one of those faces, but you don't think that's it. He feels...electric. Everything about his presence is drawing you in and you know you're staring and it's awkward now.

“Good morning. Welcome to Lunar Salt.”

The man smiles and lifts a hand. “Hey. Are you able to help me find something?”

“I sure can.” You slide off your chair and walk around the counter to meet him. He's much taller than you and he stares at you with curious eyes. The bulging stomach no doubt. “What're you looking for?”

“Hand cream. My hands get really dry with the new job I started.”

“Alright.” You lead him to the baskets of hand creams by the window. “I recommend the lemongrass and citrus. It's subtle but hydrating. If not that one, there is the cinnamon and cream that is-”

“Do I know you?”

You stop and look up at him. His eyes are gorgeous, soft and golden with hints of green. Definitely a werewolf like you. “W-what?”

The man shakes his head and apologizes. “That was so rude of me. You're just so familiar. Have we met?”

You look around nervously, chuckling a little. How weird he thought the same thing as you. “I don't think so?”

“It's just...I'm from upstate and I just moved down here with a friend nearby. It's weird but I swear I know you somehow.”

“Um, Did you go to Valley Hill high school?”

“No. Burkhead. McNamara middle school?”

“Crestridge.”

“Peterson Elementary?”

“Walker Rose Elementary.”

He laughs and looks around, seemingly stumped. His laugh is adorable, a breathy little noise that makes your heart flutter. “Well, I'm Shawn. Nice to meet you, possibly again.” He extends a hand and you shake it, skin tingling against his. This was special, he wasn't like other wolves you've met before.

“Nice to meet you.” You give your name and grab a tube of the vanilla chai hand cream. A seasonal favorite of yours and a best seller. “I recommend this one for you.”

“Why's that? Is it super moisturizing? Are my hands really that dry?” He stuffs them in his pockets self consciously.

“No...it's...complementing to you.”

“To me?”

You feel a flush rise from your chest t your cheeks and you look down with a smile before summoning the courage to look look straight at him. “Your scent.”

“Ahhhhh,” he grins huge, all his teeth showing. “I knew you were a wolf.”

“And you are too. It's not too hard to tell. Your eyes are very vibrant and your fangs are a bit hard to hide when you laugh.”

Shawn grins bigger, flashing you those fangs. “Very perceptive. I'll take the vanilla chai.”

You walk around the counter with the tube and ring it up, packaging it with a few flyers for upcoming promotions for the shop. “Five dollars please.”

Shawn slides his card and signs the receipt you pass over to him. “I didn't think I'd find another wolf so quickly in this town.”

“There aren't too many of us. When you get closer to Valley Hill you'll find a lot more.”

“Mmmm I think I'll stick to getting to know this area first.” He grabs his bag and gives you a wink as he heads out the door.

You sink down onto your chair and chuckle to yourself. Was he...flirting with you? He did see your stomach right? It was impossible to miss. And what was with that weird feeling? You roll your eyes and go back to preparing orders for when Maci got back with lunch. If it was more than a one off thing, you'd leave it for fate to decide.

___________________________

“No, she isn't here right now, she's gone to an appointment.” Maci says as you walk into the backroom and hang up your coat, returning from aforementioned appointment.

You peek your head into the front area to see who she is taking to. “Shawn,” you smile and walk out behind the counter. Maci turns, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Looks like she's back,” Shawn grins to Maci and holds up a bag. “I brought you something.”

“You brought me something?”

“Yeah. Is that weird?”

Maci snorts. “A little.”

You smack Maci's arm. “Why did you bring me something?”

Shawn runs a hand through his hair and his cheeks turn scarlet. Bashful and cute. Absolutely perfect. “I...I thought you might like it. You helped me pick that hand cream and it works wonders. I thought I should return the favor.”

“That's just my job, but I won't say no to a gift.” You approach the counter and lean on it with a smile. “What did you bring?”

“I hope you like banana.” He pulls a paper wrapped muffin from the brown bag on the counter. “I made it myself.”

Maci chuckles. “Damn, homemade treats? That's something else.”

“You didn't have to do that.” You peek in the bag and there are about six muffins in there. “Shawn, really, I was just doing my job-”

“No! No I didn't bake them specially for you. I mean, I work at the bakery across the street. The owner is a friend and he said take some of them home since they were my first batch on my own.”

“Oh! Zack? He's the best. Thank you.”

Shawn beams and pushes the bag toward you. “So yeah, anyway. Thank you for the hand cream and stuff.”

“You should try the body wash next,” Maci chimes in, pointing to the new men's section in the corner. “We've got a sandalwood and Bergamot blend you'd probably like, and it's her favorite.”

You elbow her and she cackles. “You don't have to buy anything. Thank you again for these.”

“I'll come back later. I'm on break now but I'm definitely interested in the body wash.” Shawn steps back and waves as he leaves, jogging across the street over to the bakery.

As soon as he's gone Maci absolutely lays into you. “Who the hell is that? Where did he come from?”

“He just showed up last week. I dunno, he's cute though.”

“He's definitely into you. It's all over his face like a neon sign.”

“Yeah but I have a baby. He's just being nice.” You were not about to tell her about the buzzing feeling in your guts when he showed up the first time.

Maci rolls her eyes. “Whatever maybe he likes kids. Maybe he's into it.”

“Maci!”

She shrugs. “It's a thing! Anyway he's a werewolf right?”

“Yeah? How'd you know?”

“The man is huge, and he has fang teeth that I could see from across the street. He's definitely not human.”

“Yeah, he's a werewolf, an alpha I'm pretty sure.”

“An alpha mate?” Maci elbows you playfully. “Eh? Eh?”

You roll your eyes and shove her off the stool. “Go start getting ready to make gift baskets and shut up about my love life.”

“Love life huh? Already thinking about making him your man?”

“Shut up!” You throw a tissue box at her and she scrambles into the backroom to get the basket supplies.

___________________________

It's a Monday morning when you walk into Pettit's Pastries for a breakfast on the go. You find Shawn at the counter laying out new baked goods in the case and he grins at you.

“Hello,” you giggle with a wave you approach the case. “I've come to bother you for a change. Y'know, so you don't have to keep buying one of every product in my store just to see me.”

“Caught that eh?”

“You're not too hard to read.”

Shawn chuckles and leans on the counter top, sleeves rolls up to his elbows and apron dusted with flour. He's so attractive it hurts your heart to imagine him actually touching you with those beautiful hands. Ugh.

“What can I get for you?”

“Something sweet.”

He glances up from where he is getting ready to write on his order pad and smirks. Those eyes, his lips...God damn. “There's a lot of sweets here honey.”

“Mmhmm. Pick something for me. The best you have.”

Shawn strides along the length of the display case and back, eyes going from confectionery to you every few steps. “I would but there is a problem.”

“Yeah?” You lean on the counter, your ankles starting to hurt from standing for too long. This baby was going to be the death of you.

“I don't fit in the to go bags.”

“You don't...what...oh. Oh I see what you did there.” You chuckle and he lets out a laugh at his own corny joke. “I'll just have to settle for the chocolate cupcakes then please.”

“Yes ma'am.” He bags up two for you and places them on the counter to ring you up. “Anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Alright four dollars please.”

You pay and he walks around to meet you at the door, blocking your path momentarily. You raise your eyebrows and he rubs his neck and clears his throat a few times.

“Can I... I mean are you okay to cross the street alone? It's very snowy and I don't want to see you fall.” He offers his hand to you and you take it, your smaller one fitting in his perfectly. “I promise to keep you on your feet.”

“You’re so sweet.” You walk with him across and down to your shop, his arm around your back the whole time. “Thank you. You really didn't have to do that though.”

Shawn flushes and it is still the cutest thing you've ever seen. “I'd hate to have you fall and hurt yourself or the baby. I'm sure your mate wouldn't mind me watching out for his girl.”

Ah, there it is. He slipped that in so carefully. Slick one. “I don't have a mate. But still, your concern is appreciated.”

He grins, obviously pleasantly surprised that you aren't mated. “Would you mind going out to dinner with me then?”

“Sure...I mean even though...” You lay your hand on your stomach and he continues to grin as if that made no difference to him.

“Tomorrow night? I can pick you up?”

“Shawn. Are you sure? I'm five months pregnant and mateless, and you are asking me out on a date. You do realize this is weird?”

Shawn steps forward and sets his hand over yours on your stomach. Your body aches, a deep warm ache like it did when you were with the alpha on your birthday.  

“Honestly, I don't mind. Whether you have or are having a child doesn't make me any less attracted to you. Yeah, it's strange, if someone asked me if I would date someone under these circumstances before I met you I probably would have said no. But there's something... something about the day we met that I've never been able to shake. I think I'm supposed to be with you.”

“I-I think we should just go on a date first.”

Shawn nods. “Right...I uh, I'm sorry. I got a little weird there for a second. Dinner tomorrow?”

“Yes. Dinner tomorrow.”

He pats your hand and pulls away, jogging through the snow to the bakery and nearly slipping at the doors. You let out a chuckle and go into the shop to try and calm your racing heart and jittery nerves. You hadn't wanted to admit it but you wondered too if Shawn could be the one. The way your heart went crazy when you saw him, how you couldn't stop thinking about him and when you'll see him next. Hell, you even imagined him in your bed at night, rubbing your stomach with your shea lotion and dreamed about him frequently. He drove you crazy and the only thing holding you back was your baby. The possibility that he might reject you for it, just walk away because it's not his. That's what kept you from going all in, though all signs were definitely pointing to him being your mate.

___________________________

“So can I ask him how you happen to be pregnant and not mated?” Shawn asks about halfway through dinner. You've been expecting it all night, and you're not shocked he wants to know. It's not as if you're hiding it.

“Well, I got fucked up, took a guy home and got laid on my birthday. I was so out of it and so was the guy I was with. We didn't even think about protection until after the fact. Then when morning came he was gone.”

Shawns eyes widen. “Shit, I thought maybe you lost your mate or got inseminated or something.”

“Nope just a slut.”

“Fucking hell,” Shawn chokes on his water. “I don't think you're a slut. Everyone makes mistakes, one night stands happen. Shit happens.”

You roll your eyes. “Tell that to my parents. They don't think very highly of me right now.”

“It's not their place to judge your choices. Besides, you're a successful business owner, what harm is there in wanting a family?”

“Yeah...they don't understand. It's fine though. I'll be happy with my little buddy and Maci until I do find my mate.”

Shawn leans his chin on his hand. “Do you think the man who got you pregnant was your mate?”

You shrug. “I think I felt something with him. I definitely don't make a habit of getting that drunk and sleeping with just any guys. I just wish I could remember more, but I was super drunk and it's been so long I can't.”

“Hey,” Shawn reaches across the table and takes your hand. “Why don't we focus on the here and now. I'm definitely seriously attracted to you and it's making me wonder if I've found my mate because I've never had this sort of attraction and need for someone before.”

You chew on your lip and flush. “I know. I have wondered about it too. I just ...I want to make sure y'know?”

“I totally understand. We can go as slow as you want.”

“Thanks. For the record though, you do drive me crazy too and I really want to spend every second of every day with you. Seriously. Every time you're in the shop I lose my shit inside and get this buzzing feeling.”

Shawn laughs, head thrown back as he covers his chest with his hand. “So much for wanting to take things slow!”

“Hey! I still wanna go slow, I'm popping a kid out here in less than three months now and I need to know if you're actually going to be interested in me when I'm toting an infant around.”

Shawn goes quiet, leaning in and suddenly looking very serious. “I told you, the baby isn't a problem and won't change how attracted I am to you. I'm excited to meet it, oddly anxious to hold it too. So I think I'll still want to stick around.”

“Shawn...I don't get it, why are you so excited? We've known each other for about a month. It's not even your baby.”

“Oh. Um...it's just, I just...I feel it. And I don't know why I'm excited, I just am. I can't explain it. It's seriously the strangest feeling because I know we've just recently met but it feels like I've known you for ages and I'm just picking up where I left off somehow.” He runs his hand over his hair and looks out the window where the snow is falling heavily. “I feel the pull of a mate and I want to make you mine so badly it's maddening.”

You reach across the table and lay your hand on his arm. “If you're serious, come with me to my appointment this Friday. I know it's right before Christmas, but I'm finally going to find out the gender because I've been putting it off until I settled on a name for a girl and a boy. Well, also because I'm anxious, but either way, come with me?”

Shawn covers your hand with his. “I'll go with. I'm not doing anything anyways, Zack's closing the bakery until after Christmas so he can be with his family upstate.”

You smile and he just smiles back. So this is what a mate feels like. Warm, safe, trusted and comfortable. You hope it lasts.

___________________________

You open the front door to your apartment and invite Shawn in to wait while you finish up getting ready for the appointment. He wanders over to the kitchen and you walk back to your room to get your shoes.

“Can I ask you something?” Shawn calls out after a minute.

You walk back into the living area and look at where he's standing with his hands on a denim jacket on the back of your dining chair. For a moment you feel sick, realizing how this must seem. That jacket was left by the alpha you slept with on your birthday. You had kept it just to use it to try and find him again. Obviously that didn't work.

“Where'd you get this?”

“It's from the guy who I slept with on my birthday. I promise it's not someone else's. I'm not seeing anyone.” You pull your tennis shoes on and wiggle your toes around to get comfortable. “I need to just donate it because I'm never-”

“When is your birthday?”

“Huh?”

“When is your birthday?”

“July 24th? Why?”

Shawn leans on the chair and chuckles. “Where did you meet this alpha?”

“At Nix? The club in Valley Hill?” You stand and walk over to him. “Why are you asking me all this? This is just a jacket I need to get rid of. I'm not lying to you.”

“I know you're not because this is my jacket.”

“What?”

Shawn pulls it off the chair and puts it on over his hoodie. “Everything makes sense, that's why we know each other but we can’t remember. It's why we're so close. I was at Nix that night with Zack and some friends who were celebrating their birthday too. I-I can prove it.”

“Shawn, you're crazy. I like you, I really do, but this is insanity.”

“No, I'm not crazy. Listen. In the pocket there is a set of keys.” He pats the front denim pocket. “Take them out and match them to my keys.” He hands you his keys from his pants pocket and you fish the ones out of the jacket.

Sure enough the diamond shaped house key matches. There's a Jeep fob on each one as well.  You cross the apartment and go to the front window, clicking the unlock button on the jacket keys and aiming it at Shawn's Jeep. It unlocks the car, the lights flash on for a moment. Your stomach drops and you look at Shawn.

“Everything makes sense,” you mumble.

Shawn walks over and cups your face in his hands. “Yes, it does and I'm going to be a dad and you're my mate. You're my mate!”

You hold his arms and laugh, tears spilling over the corners of your eyes. “I have a mate!”

“Yeah, you do.” Shawn leans in and kisses you softly.

You wrap your arms around him and squeeze tight, your stomach pushing against him. “I tried to find you for months. I did everything I could think of. Why did you leave?”

“I panicked. I couldn't remember where I was or anything, I'm pretty sure I was still drunk when I woke up and I didn't want to bother you so I just left and found my way back to Zack's place. God if I had known, if I had even considered the possibility of being your mate I never would have left.” He runs his hand through your hair. “I promise I'll never leave again.”

“We were pretty drunk. We probably shouldn't have had sex, but I don't regret it. I don't regret a single thing.”

Shawn drops down and holds your tummy, kissing it gently. “Mates always find each other right?” He looks up at you. “I knew I would find you one day. I didn't know how or when but I knew I would.” He leans his head on your belly and you run your hand over his hair.

“I stopped believing for a while, but when I met you that day in the shop. I knew you were the one, I felt it.” You tap his shoulder for him to stand up and he does. “As excited as I am to have a mate, we have to go to the appointment and find out what our baby is.”

“Shit. Right. Are you ready?” He asks and you nod. He threads his fingers between yours and the two of you head to the car to go to your appointment.

___________________________

Two months and twelve days later you and Shawn have a tiny little baby boy. He was five pounds ten ounces, small considering he's a werewolf. Shawn blames himself, saying that not being there for the full pregnancy made him not grow as big. It's ridiculous and you won't hear it, saying that he's probably small because you were a small baby too.

The moment the nurse brought the in baby; who's name you decided was Milo, into the recovery room, Shawn lost his mind. He immediately grabbed for him, cooing and awing as the nurse set him in his arms and showed him how to support Milo's head. The way Shawn looked at that baby was like nothing else mattered in the world.

The baby looked so tiny in comparison to Shawn. So much like just a wad of blankets he was holding tenderly. You couldn't help but fall in love with the two of them. It was amazing. You can't believe how lucky you are to have this, and you know Shawn feels the same. From that moment on, you knew you would be living a an actual dream.

The end

Thank you everyone who read this! Please reblog and leave feedback/let me know what you think.

I know this is short and quick but it’s just something I’ve wanted to write and and I idea I’ve toyed with for a while. 

Thank you so much.

#shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes au fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes stories #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes werewolf au #shawn mendes words #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes fluff #oneshot #oneshots

[cupofteaguk]

if i could tell her

summary: Jung Hoseok is just trying to pass his philosophy class, yet ends up with so much more. 

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader

genre: college au, fake dating au | fluff/angst

warnings: slow burn, hoseok is a fratboy in this fic, this fic is a mash of a tutoring with fake dating what can i say, and yes the title comes from the dear evan hanson musical 

word count: 16k

.

It’s not abnormal to wake up in a space that is not his own, considering his life and what he did just to feel any sort of rush of pleasure, awakening in an apartment and atop a bed with a touch too many scents that only makes the hangover pierce even deeper at his skull. He arises, a groan barely leaving his lips as he sits up, rubbing at his head and looking down to see that he wears nothing under the sheets. Again, all part of the typical one-night-stand escapades he participated in.

However, what is not typical is the way the bed feels cold, empty without the presence of the other figure sleeping opposite of him—someone he almost would not have missed had he had woken up in his own room, someone he might have forgotten had it not been for the vague memory of a girl underneath him, a name he might have been gritting between his teeth in the haze of his lust. Kathy, was it? Or Kat? No, the longer Jung Hoseok sits there, the more confident he grows in the fact that the name certainly had been Karly.

The physical appearance of the girl remains blank on him, no matter how desperately he tries to rack his consciousness, tries to remember the scene of the party and what she did to catch his attention. There must have been something, something hidden within the corners of his mind, perhaps a glance or a smile or a dance move or a joke. Either way, the answer refuses to present itself to Hoseok at the present moment, which is fine because aforementioned Karly is absent to spare him from that awkward situation.

Still, he remains motionless for a few more seconds, counting down to see if the girl—Karly—is perhaps just in the bathroom or making breakfast, doing anything within the apartment that could make an escape on Hoseok’s part awkward. Yet he doesn’t hear anything, fails to make out those telltale signs that leaving would be a bad move. So he straightens up, feet falling upon the carpet with a gentle sigh, and manages to find his clothing littered across the room. Hoseok makes quick work on dressing himself, pulling on his shirt, tugging on his jeans, slowly making his way to the bedroom door and down the hallway. The apartment is quiet, and he is momentarily stunned that this Karly girl would just leave him alone in her home, that she would be so trusting of someone she did not know personally.

That is, until he walks into the kitchen and finds that he is most certainly not alone in the apartment, that there is a certain someone sitting at the kitchen counter—a certain beautiful someone.

“Woah,” Hoseok greets, taking in the sight of you: philosophy textbook propped open and overhard eggs hovering over your lips, hair in a bun with the stray curls cascading down your face, eyes wide and fixated on his frame. If he hadn’t been enduring the aftermaths of a particularly bad hangover, then he’d realize that the gaze you were giving him is one of vague recognition and not a morning after ‘let’s share breakfast and have sex after this’ type of ordeal. He doesn’t really realize anything beyond the fact that you are extremely pretty and while he certainly doesn't remember the act of sleeping with you specifically, he wishes he had. “Are you Karly?”

You actually laugh at that, a beautiful sound that immediately leaves him to believe that he most definitely would have remembered every single second, every single detail, of fucking you. “Karly is my roommate,” You say, shutting the philosophy textbook in front of you. “I’m Y/N.”

The name strikes a bell in his mind, but he lacks the mental capability to place it. He tries for his own laugh, immediately wincing when the noise makes him feel like he's just been struck across the back of the head with a shovel.

You straighten slightly, detecting his discomfort at once as you slide yourself off the bar stool you've been situated at, heading for the overhead cabinets to make a grab for a glass cup. You fill it with water, grabbing a bottle of pills and dumping two out into the palm of your hand before resting both on the opposite end of the counter. “Here, those should help,” You say, gesturing to the items before residing yourself back on the stool.

He manages another laugh, one much smaller and is really more of just a breath of air escaping his lips. “You seem very familiar with all of this,” He notes quietly, approaching the counter and grabbing the pills.

He lowers the glass of water, only to find that you are staring intently at him. “You think you’re the first guy to sleep with Karly?”

He doesn’t know how to answer the question, or if he’s meant to answer it at all. You give him one last lingering look before opening your philosophy textbook once more, clearly comfortable with the silence that has grown between the two of you once again. Hoseok finds that he doesn't necessarily mind watching you read, finding that you have this little crinkle between your eyebrows to show your level of concentration, how easy it is for you to tune him out, and he can feel the corner of his lips quirking up.

“I was referring to you,” He says at last, voice lightening up slightly as he leans across the counter and for a moment, it feels as if he’s back to being Jung Hoseok—too many parties under his belt, too many girls to keep him grounded, believing he could get anyone and everyone with just the right presentation of words. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, although I’m sure I would have remembered if I had.”

If you’re impressed (or unimpressed) with his attempt to stir some sort of reaction out of you, he doesn't get the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you flip through a few pages of your textbook, barely sparing him a glance, as if Karly’s one-night-stands hitting on you was something you were only entirely too use to. Finally, you look up at him. “If you forgot that I sit next to you in philosophy, Hoseok, I doubt you’d be able to remember me under any other context.”

The smile on your face shows just how little remorse you hold for him, as if you had been expecting him to lack the ability to place you in his life. The news is certainly a surprise, which is why the best thing he can manage is a very intelligent, very coherent: “What?”

You jut your chin out a little. “Philosophy with Professor Tong? Every Monday and Wednesday?”

He knits his eyebrows together, searching his mind. “Yeah, but no, I think you’re mistaken. I always fall asleep in that class and on the rare occasion that I don’t, the girl who sits next to me aces every exam, highlights all her notes, and has some sort of dumb flower notebook—oh.”

He bites his tongue when you grab something from underneath your philosophy textbook, flashing the flower notebook straight from his memories and immediately making him feel vaguely like a jerk. Mistaking someone for someone else isn't necessarily the best way to start a relationship. “Do you mean this dumb flower notebook?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side, throwing it back down onto the table. “I just like to be organized and pass my classes.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hoseok says, at least having the decency to show a level of guilt at the downward spiral his conversation with you is going. “But, I mean, is it fair to hold me against the fact that I didn’t know we had class together? Like I said, I fall asleep most of the time, and it’s not like I’m trying to get on a name-to-name basis with any of my peers. We’ve probably never even spoken to each other before—!”

“We’ve had class discussions a bunch of times,” You interrupt dryly, gaze having resumed back to your textbook, although he doesn’t remember seeing you look down. “You once told me that the two kinds of evils are alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

You exhale in a laugh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes without contempt, not seeming to mind his inexperience on the subject matter, which only makes his own heart speed up slightly at your surprisingly playful attitude. “I suppose not, from a subjective standpoint.” Then you shift in your seat, making a grab for the cup of water you have rested along the side of the counter. You take a sip, flickering your gaze up to see Hoseok using the silence to take a sip of his own water. “I guess I shouldn’t be holding the whole ‘I don’t know what’s going on in class’ deal, otherwise I’m assuming you’d be freaking out a bit more about our exam coming next in a few days.”

Hoseok chokes on his water, coughing violently as the liquid travels down the wrong pipe and he desperately longs to find his breath again. You watch in silence, watching the way he lightly pats his chest, watching the way he takes deep inhales and exhales to calm his heart to regain control his body.

“You okay there?” You inquire.

Hoseok coughs one last time. “W-We have an exam in a few days?” He asks, raising his head to meet your gaze.

“Yep,” You say, your lips coming together to pop the p at the end of the word. You make work on picking up that dreadful flower notebook and flipping through some pages until you come across what you’re looking for. Turning the notebook at a 180 degree, you slide it across towards Hoseok. “We also have an essay due at midnight on Friday. Altogether, it’s worth about thirty percent of our grade—!”

“Shit,” Hoseok curses under his breath, taking in the long list of different concepts, theories, names, studies, and readings that will be on the upcoming exam—all of which he knows absolutely nothing about. “What’s the essay about?”

“Something about if criminals should be held morally responsible for their actions,” You say with the shrug of your shoulders, as if you’ve already finished the essay and have been finished with the essay for weeks now.

Hoseok is quiet, and must be quiet for a beat too long before you lean forward on the counter, immediately giving the boy a whiff of your scent: kind of floral and sweet and light and he’s floored from the sensation. How could someone smell this good first thing in the morning? Immediately, his mind starts to wander—he wonders if you wore perfume, what kind, and what you included in your laundry detergent. He wonders about your morning routine, if you had a boyfriend, what your major was, why he had never noticed you before, how you managed to stay alert in all your classes. He wonders if you work, if you did other things to occupy your time and he wants it all, he wants to be a part of your life more if it means getting to see you eat egg in the morning or getting to watch you tie your hair up in this bun, if it means getting a whiff of your scent over coffee.

“Hoseok, are you alright?”

He blinks, barely able to catch you staring at him, a flicker of curiosity in your eyes, before he’s turning away and forcing himself to study the Philosophy terms that might as well be Chinese characters for all the sense they were making to him. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I guess I got caught up in all this work and just started blanking out…”

You lean back in your chair, taking back the scent and he thinks he can officially put a label on the flower you’ve taken after. Definitely lavender.

“It is a lot,” You agree. He catches you furrowing your eyebrows out of the corner of his eyes and he wonders what idea you are brewing up in that mind of yours. “If you want, I could give you some pointers for the essay and help you study for the exam. It’ll be difficult because there’s only a few days until the test, but we can try our best.”

“Would you really?” He inquires incredulously, snapping his head up to meet your gaze. You aren’t entirely looking at him, your eyes are shifted elsewhere and he wonders how often you actually go out of your way to do this—to offer your help to someone like him who is in desperate need of it. That thought fills his heart with the sensation of… something. For now, he just decides to think of it as gratefulness. “Y-Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks a lot.”

The pair of you lock eyes across the counter and he watches the way you run your tongue over your lower lip for a moment before your teeth come out to gnaw at the soft flesh. Your gaze is broken by a distraction that seems to catch your attention because you’re flickering your gaze down to your phone.

It doesn’t matter if whatever on your phone holds any importance to you; it’s enough to break Hoseok out of his reserve, to let reality come crashing down. What was he doing? Yeah, he knows that he’s just taken up the offer on homework help from someone who clearly knows what’s going on, but what happens after that? Hoseok is not blind to all the social aspects of groups and circles that only continue to remain loosely true in college—there’s a reason why the pair of you have never interacted or have never crossed paths. It’s because both of you ran in two completely different social circles and just had interests that didn’t normally correlate with one another. The only reason the pair of you have crossed paths in the first place is because you just so happened to have a roommate that didn’t think twice about pushing her way into Hoseok’s life.

Yoongi would probably reprimand him for overthinking the situation. It’s not like there was anything that was going to happen with you and Hoseok—you’re just a peer who is going to help him get through the next few days of Philosophy. The fact that you’re cute and attractive and give off a positive first impression, one that leads him to think that there’s more substance to you than most girls he meets who are just looking for a quick fuck, is something that he’ll have to work around. But he needs to pass this class, if only to keep him on track for graduation. After all, keeping his feelings in check shouldn’t be too hard right?

Right?

.

The following day is Sunday, officially five days before Doomsday aka a Philosophy exam and an essay that the boy has absolutely no confidence over. Still, he remembers what he has to do and he values the importance of his assignment as well as recognizes the sacrifices you’re making to help him out. So he shows up at your apartment—partially retracing his steps from memory and partially following the directions you’ve given him on a slip of paper.

Pulling out aforementioned piece of paper, he sees the address as well as your phone number scribbled down underneath. The paper itself is slightly crumpled from Hoseok having to pry the slip out of his roommate’s grabby hands just to make sure that Jimin didn’t try to look you up on Facebook after the former boy let it slip that he thought you were ‘slightly more than attractive’.

He doesn’t put too much thought into why he had been so insistent on making sure that Jimin couldn’t find a way to open any lines of communication with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to distract you, make you uncomfortable, expose you into his world—or maybe he just wants to keep you to himself, keep you his little secret. He thinks he knows the answer, but he refuses to admit it.

Instead, he finds your apartment, checking the number a few times just to make sure, before knocking on the door. It takes a second, and for a moment he worries that he had gotten the time wrong in his haste to see you and get started on the tutoring—or, really, just to see you in general, probably without even realizing it. Luckily, the door swings open to reveal a familiar figure that most definitely is not you but—!

“O-Oh hey,” Hoseok greets at the girl on the other side, not you but your roommate who he knows he fucked the other night but cannot seem to remember her name for the sudden life of him.

The girl smirks, and he runs his mind through a mental list of potential names. Kathy? Fuck, no, that wasn’t it. Katherine? No, that sounds even worse. “Jung Hoseok,” She greets, leaning against the doorframe. There’s something like actual surprise in her eyes and he gets the feeling that maybe you left your roommate out of the loop regarding his return to the apartment. “What brings you back here? I thought you didn’t take second rounds?”

Hoseok, who had not been expecting to get an invite to sex today, can feel himself flushing deeply at the offer. The girl at the door is right, he rarely ever comes by for repeats. He’s about to open his mouth to reject the offer, before another voice cuts in, one that he finds himself visibly relaxing to despite the relationship it holds in his life.

“Karly!” You exclaim, appearing by your roommate’s side at once. He breaths in a little because yes of course, that’s her name. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Y/N,” Karly returns, breaking eye contact to stare over at you. “I don’t know if you guys have ever met before, but this is Jung Hoseok—!”

“I know,” You interject, flickering your gaze over to him only to find that he is still staring at you. “I invited him over—I’m helping him with Philosophy.”

It doesn’t take long for the passes of embarrassment to start flickering across Karly’s face at how she had assumed Hoseok’s visit was for something under completely different circumstances. It looks like she wants to protest, whisper accusations to you, do anything to take the target of tension off her back, but she merely settles with flickering her gaze between you and Hoseok. A muffled “huh” escapes her lips, but she steps away from the doorframe and allows the boy to step through.

You grumble something about grabbing your laptop from your room before turning down the hall and leaving Hoseok with Karly. For a moment, neither of them say anything, just basking in the awkward silence and knowledge that they definitely fucked yet not being able to remember the experience. Not that Hoseok actually wants to—especially now that you’re in his life, even if temporarily.

Even with the tension, even though he is the last person to know anything about Karly, it’s easy to see that she’s weighing something in her mind, preparing herself to say whatever it is that’s occupying her thoughts. Considering what she had said the last time she let her mouth run, Hoseok finds that he almost panics at the thought of having to answer a question, statement, or observation from her.

Once more, he finds himself comforted by the sight of you appearing from the hallway, the laptop tucked underneath your arm and the words absentmindedly slipping between your lips. “So, Hoseok, I think we should start with you telling me what you know so we can start to work around that…” You flicker your gaze up to find Karly still in the same room. You raise an eyebrow. “Karly, don’t you have a group project meet up today?”

The question starts Karly out of her trance as she fishes out her phone, curses, and dashes into her room. There is a moment in which neither you nor Hoseok breath a word to each other, that silence broken when Karly comes rushing back out. She yells something out that sounds vaguely like: “See you tonight” before it is followed by a slam of the door.

You give him a smile. “I hope she didn’t say anything to you.”

He shrugs, saying the first thing on his mind, one that so happens to be: “I don’t think there’s anything worse than knowing that you fucked someone, yet not remembering what that had been like.”

In spite of the bluntness of the statement, you can’t help but laugh. Or, maybe, his candor is what stirs up that breathy exhale from between your lips in the first place. “That does sound pretty awkward already.”

“Oh, what, like you’ve never done that before?” He inquires, the question meant to be light-hearted and a joke; but the suddenly tight smile you deliver makes him think he had to go and step out of the line. Again.

“Not really,” You say, shrugging your shoulders after a moment. The gesture looks like an afterthought. You turn slightly so that your back is facing him, indicating that follow up questions would not be allowed on the subject, even if for teasing that you most likely would not think is funny.

Why couldn’t he seem to get it right with you?

“So, like I was saying before, since our exam is going to cover chapters one to five, why don’t you tell me what content you are familiar with so we can at least try to build a foundation around that.”

Hoseok falls short at that, nervous both under your observing gaze and his own lack of knowledge in the field. Suddenly, the fact that he doesn’t know anything and that he had spent the past few months either skipping class or just not attending it only becomes more and more clear to him the longer he sits there.

You only continue to stare at him, watching him, waiting for any sort of response from him in regards in your question. He wonders what you’re thinking—if you think he’s stupid or irresponsible or wasteful of money and time. Yet, there’s nothing in your eyes that hold distaste or dissatisfaction, even when you raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s okay if you aren’t familiar with anything, you know.”

“No, it’s just,” Hoseok starts, although he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. You’re trying to spare him the embarrassment of the truth, the truth that he doesn’t remember anything from class, but his desire to prove you wrong is too overwhelming. To keep himself busy, he flips open the notebook he’s got reserved for this class, immediately landing upon a page full of words and lines and scribbles that dance back and forth across the surface. At first, he feels something akin to curiosity and confusion because he does not remember taking an ounce of relevant notes throughout the course but the longer he stares at it and takes in the words, the longer it takes for the realization of what the words in between these edges mean and he’s about to slam the notebook shut and write himself away forever but—! “Uh…” Hoseok starts, but you beat him to it.

“What’s this?” You inquire, already long since having leaned over to study whatever is written across his notebook. Hoseok doesn’t pull away or snap or do anything, really, he just sits there and lets your gaze flint across the pages and lets the realization dawn upon you that the notes he’s taken are not philosophy or remotely academic based at all but are more poetic and lyrical and string together a little too perfectly for these to be mere afterthoughts or something he only did when he was bored. So you open your mouth, your curiosity blocking away the social norm that mentions how maybe asking about something pressed between the spaces of a notebook were a touch too personal to bring up. Yet you do it anyways: “Are these poems?”

He winces. “Close, uh, they’re song lyrics.”

You flicker your gaze up and he jumps. When did you get so close? “You’re a lyricist?”

“Not a professional one,” He brushes off. “Hopefully one day I can be though.”

You hum thoughtfully, eyes continuing to roam across the page he has opened on the table. For a moment, you don’t pry or flip through the pages or even touch the notebook. You don’t even look like you’re trying to soak in every word, which he almost finds odd. Any other person in Hoseok’s life would have done anything to catch more of his personal life, especially since he kept a majority of his feelings and his past under wraps. But even after realizing what lay underneath the cover of his notebook, he doesn’t feel that painful desperation to hide the words and emotions from you.

He wonders if it’s because of the trusting, open, honest, naive look that shines like the daylight in your eyes, the fact that you’ve already caught him at his worse (aka his walk of shame and discovering his shitty work ethic) and he feels as if there’s not as much to lose around you.

“Well, you are very talented,” You point out quietly, leaning back into your chair and delivering him with the kind of smile that doesn’t have him doubting the truth of your statement.

Still, his lips twist up into a faint, rare, smile. “Really?”

You seem to understand the gravity of his expression, must know that the boy who lives in his laughter and smirks and lips pressing together didn’t just hand out smiles for free, because the corner of your own mouth curls up right back at him. “Yeah.” Neither of you say anything, too caught up in this moment, in basking under the fact that your smile reminds him of starlight and all good things, and he wonders why he wanted to write you off and out of his life after that first class because he already knew that you were different than him. Sometimes, different could be good. Better, even.

You are the first to clear your throat, resuming your attention back to your laptop and opening it. “R-Right,” You start. “So, philosophy.” You train your gaze on the screen intensely enough that Hoseok can feel himself shifting in his own seat. “I guess, even just to stay safe, we should start at the beginning.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok manages, looking down to study his fingers, long and lean, and bony around the knuckles but also so lonely on its own. “That’ll probably be best.”

“Alright,” You continue with the nod of your head, turning your laptop and he arches an eyebrow to find that you had started constructing a powerpoint for him. “Chapter one is about questions concerning God…”

.

It’s no secret that Hoseok hates philosophy and education in general with the fiery passion of a thousand suns—especially considering that his interests hardly corresponded with a field of general eds or speciality classes that the university offered. He didn’t need another class telling him how to download producing softwares that he’s been using since high school. He needs an internship, but he also needs the grades and the time management skills and the sports and his current job just to try and stay afloat before thinking about changing things up.

Given that he targets the academics as one of the many seeds of stress in his life, it’s no surprise that he barely finds the willpower to enjoy lectures and studying and tests, although this is a pretty common factor that resides with him and a majority of his friends. It’s hard for him to think that anyone could find the subjects taught at school fun.

But, then again, he really hadn’t met anyone like you—someone who could be so passionate about something yet not be annoying about it. He doesn’t know what it is, he doesn’t know if it’s his own desperation to have a grasp on philosophy or the fact that you’re actually kind of cute when you’re going on and on about freedom and determinism that could potentially be clouding his judgment. He doesn’t know what it is, yet it hardly matters because he’s actually enjoying learning about the different concepts and theorists and finds that he’s learning more in just three days than the three months that he’s been enrolled in the class.

Maybe it’s because the one-on-one interaction actually forces him to pay attention, or maybe it’s because you’re actually an attentive tutor who possesses the ability to explains things with such ease that his brain just naturally makes the connections.

Or, maybe, above all, it’s the fact that getting to spend time in your apartment, even if for schooling purposes, means getting to know you in all its minor details that you let slip or things that he just so happens to take note of. Like how excited you get when he is able to apply certain concepts perfectly to the topic being discussed, or how you use both your hands to cover your mouth when you yawn, or how you twirl your pencil between your fingers whenever you’re distracting or lost in your thoughts.

He finds that you’re also an extremely caring and compassionate individual, seen especially in the way you never fail to check up on him through various text messages or even when he’s sitting right next to you in your apartment.

You’re good at making him feel good about himself, about allowing him to feel positively about his academic accomplishments no matter how big or small they may be, which is why the pair of you are able to go through the five chapters as quickly as the pair of you do. Even with his other classes, homeworks assignments, work obligations—much like you—he finds that he looks forward to a new day and a new lesson from you. The confidence you instill in him, that he is able to instill in himself, provides as a turning point that guides him to your front door Thursday morning, that guides him to say, “I’m ready for that essay” as soon as you open the door. It’s the first time he takes such an initiation in the assignments, but it’s worth seeing the grin that overtakes your features.

“What’s so funny?” He inquires, slipping in through the opened door and setting his backpack down on the table so he can discard his jacket.

“Nothing!” You retort, trailing closely behind him. “I’m glad that you’re ready to work on the essay, even though it’s due tomorrow night. And we should do a review of everything you learned just to make sure you have everything down.”

“Wow, you can’t just let me have my moment, can’t you sweetheart?” He teases, deciding at the last second to add in the nickname he’s started addressing you by after the third day after he accidentally let it slip and you had merely laughed to show your indifference to the name. In a way, labeling you with such an intimate nickname to no protest solidifies the strange relationship you and Hoseok developed, one that had been created within the four walls of confinement.

“Not until you pass your exam,” You return back with a teasing curl to your lips. He’s use to seeing this part of you now after managing a crack in your facade, one of the joys of being within your company for long stretches of time not occupied with work or classes or other assignments.

It leaves almost a strange tickling, eating sensation at the pit of his stomach, where he doesn’t know what’s going to happen after the exam passes him by. He had told himself in the beginning that he wasn’t going to let his feelings cloud his judgment, but he hadn’t predicted you would be so easy to get along with, that you would know more about him than some of his friends, that he would have been able to keep that emotional distance from you. You’re way too funny and energetic and alive to stay away from.

You keep up that same level of cheer and support from the side as Hoseok starts to cram down on his essay. You stay up with him to assist him with potential flashcards or last minute questions about theories, offering help in regards to new topics he could indulge into for this five-page essay on moral obligation. You bring your chair closer to his in order to read over his shoulder—the scent of lavender and the additional coconut conditioner from your shower only continuing to soothe him. You fall asleep on his shoulder, and he wonders what he had done to deserve you in such a vulnerable state.  

.

A week shouldn’t often be considered a long period of time, especially when looking at the grand scheme of life and the existence of human existence and Earth in the long run. A week is probably just a blink, a second, a millisecond, definitely not enough to leave a claim or a mark upon anything. However, in spite of that, Hoseok likes to think that within the week (or, technically, five days), he’s been able to spend with you, it’s safe to say that the pair of you could consider each other friends. Or, at the very least, acquaintances. A pair of individuals with inside jokes and an easy air of understanding between the two of you, in which he thinks that he knows you and your body language and the air around you relatively well.

He’s not going to claim himself an expert on you, that he suddenly knows all the secrets you’ve been hiding from him and from the world, but he feels as if he can read you well enough to know that something is definitely up when he knocks on your apartment door to show off the A- he got on his exam—and you can only return his enthusiasm with a tight-lipped smile.

“Is everything okay?” He asks upon seeing that you weren’t going to celebrate your own amazing tutoring abilities with him, lowering his phone and looking at your expression.

You blink, shaking your head slightly, and giving him a grin that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “O-Oh yeah, sorry, everything is fine. But congratulations.” You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “See, I knew you could do it. And how about the essay?”

He opens his phone again to find the grade the professor had gifted him with. “B+!” He remarks brightly, following you into the apartment space as you turn around to make your way into the kitchen. “Not bad, you know, considering that I started the day before.”

“It’s amazing what you can do if you put your mind to it,” You say, smiling cheekily, but it still doesn’t reach your eyes and Hoseok wonders if he should be alerted or bothered by the fact that he is very aware of this. Instead, he lets himself continue to ponder about it as he takes a seat at your kitchen table and watches the way you move about the space, the way you fill some glasses with hot water before digging out his favorite tea bags to rest them in the liquid. There is a new kind of silence, the loudest one he’s ever heard and it eats so deeply at his skin that he pushes himself from the table and rounds the counter to approach you.

Without a warning, he gently grabs you by the shoulders to spin you around. At first your eyes are wide with surprise, but they fill with exasperation when Hoseok flicks your forehead.

“Yah!” You retort, pushing at his chest, eyebrows furrowing together. “What was that for?”

“I can practically hear the internal monologue you’re having from the table,” He points out. “And you’re acting weird—weirder than normal.”

You glare at him, shifting slightly to brush your hair back. “I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just… family stuff.” You shrug your shoulder, showing the first genuine signs of emotions today: confliction. It looks like you want to say what is on your mind, that you have to share the depth of your problems with the first willing participant. It momentarily strikes Hoseok in regards to how long you’ve been keeping this issue to yourself, considering that he’s been seeing you every day for the past few days. Rather than comment on it, he just keeps his gaze level with you, willing you to disclose your concerns with him. It works, because you heave in a sigh. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “You’re looking at someone who use to think the two kinds of evils were alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

You snort at the memory. “Well, you weren’t ever really wrong. Just from a philosophical standpoint.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He replies, taking in a breath before deciding to reach out and gently touch the top of your head. He can feel your hair underneath his touch, just as soft as he had imagined, but it’s enough to get your attention and help let your guard down long enough. “C’mon, I promise I won’t judge. Out loud.”

“It’s just,” You start. “I have this family gathering tomorrow evening and all my relatives have spent the past few years pressuring me about getting into a relationship so I know that if I show up tomorrow without a boyfriend they’ll get that disapproving look like I’ve failed at my only purpose in life—like I don’t have other things I want to focus on right now. So, yeah, I don’t know, I’ve been debating on what to do for weeks now and I don’t even know if I should show up or not.”

Hoseok chews softly on his own lower lip. He’s never received that type of pressure from his family or friends about going out and getting a girlfriend—mainly because his friends were only too aware of what he preferred doing over the emotional stuff (the thought suddenly brings a nauseous sensation to the pit of his stomach)—and his family probably just entrusted in the hope that he would bring back a girlfriend one day. One day. They know his love for music is more secure than any love he could hold for a singular person. At least, right now.

He stares at you for a moment longer.

“You should probably go,” He points out. “I mean, if you don’t show up, your relatives will just assume that you couldn’t get a boyfriend and that’ll just be giving them all the power and no one wants that.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do then.” You grumble, a bit of a whining complexion to the tone of your voice. “It’s not like there’s a line of guys who’ll want to help me, or anyone that I trust enough not to make a fool of both of us in front of my family.”

Hoseok thinks about it, seeing the truth of your statement. He knows that you’re the type of person who keeps mostly to yourself, not because you didn’t enjoy the company of other individuals surrounding you, but because you were more comfortable on your own. It’s something that he’s been able to pick up, even if in just small pieces and small flashes—whether it be noticing how much calmer you are in the silence or your passing obsession with using headphones and music as a way to hide yourself away from the world.

He’s never taken you as the type of person with an overabundance of friends, but rather someone with a few select close individuals whom you entrusted everything to. Although he finds it hard to be in that position himself, given that it seems like his entire life is just surrounded by other people and finds the thought of being alone… well, lonely, he can’t help but think that lifestyle suits you and your shy smiles and the way you often like to curl up on the couch with a notebook after a particularly long day—!

The offer slips out before he can stop it: “I’ll help you out.”

You blink, staring up at him, eyebrow raised, clearly not understanding the angle that he’s coming from. “What?”

“I could pretend to be your boyfriend for that family event,” He explains, shrugging one of his shoulders and realizing that he cannot bear to look you in the eye. Instead, he fixates his gaze on the electrical outlet directly behind you and hopes that his face is not as red as it feels. There a beat of silence a moment too long, but it feels suffocating and Hoseok scrambles, wondering how long it’ll take him to fling himself out the window of your apartment. “Actually, no, that’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anything, I just thought I’d drop a suggestion—!”

“No, no, it’s not a stupid idea!” You retort a bit too quickly yourself, and it shows in your expression. You bite your lip, swallowing thickly, and can’t look him in the eye either. “I-I mean, we’ve spent all this time together so it wouldn’t be too different from our interactions right now.”

“R-Right,” He says, unsure if he’s trying to convince himself or you because he had promised himself a week ago that he would do well in keeping his feelings in check and when that clearly hadn’t worked, any normal or sane person would know that the next solution would be to step away to try and write away those emotional attachments so what the fuck is he doing? Offering to be your boyfriend for a day—was he serious? “I mean, actually, I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t know how well of a boyfriend I could be, I’m not good with the whole relationship thing.”

“Me either,” You shrug, although your reasoning is a whole lot different from his. “We can just figure it out together, we have a whole twenty-four hours before the gathering.” You meet his gaze, looking a whole lot calmer and reassured than you had seconds ago, which is interesting considering that Hoseok still looks like he’s just been challenged to duel with a bear. “Hoseok, please? I don’t really trust anyone else right now not to fuck this up.”

“Not fuck this up,” Hoseok echoes, running a hand through his hair, the worry still prevalent although he had been the one to make the suggestion in the first place. The fact that you’re putting all this trust in him only makes him more nervous, more hesitate about letting you down, how he doesn’t want to disappoint you. But it does make his heart race, does fill him with the vaguest sense of pride, which is probably why he can’t turn you down, why he made the offer in the first place, why he keeps coming back to you.

“Please?” Your eyes are wide now, wider than he’s seen them before and you look like you’re about two seconds from grabbing his hands. Not that he would mind that. “I’ll buy you all the tacos you want.”

He scoffs. “Yah, you really think food is going to sway me?”

“If we go to taco trucks, then maybe?” You answer hesitantly. Rather than making a grab for his hands, you lace yours together. ��Hoseok, please. Besides, you can’t just drop a life saving suggestion like that and just walk away.” Your eyes light up, which he knows cannot be a good sign. “Plus, you owe me! I helped bump your Philosophy grade up to a B!”

That is true, yet the argument of him owing you a favor is not the reason why he relents, why he lowers his arm and lets out a sigh to feign exasperation. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”

Your eyes brighten as you clap your hands together. “Really? Hoseok, thank you, it means so much that you would do this for me.”

You take your time to gaze up at him, bright smile overtaking your features, the gratefulness etched in your eyes and he responds with a pinch to your cheeks.

“I’m just in it for the tacos.”

.

As it turns out, and as one might have guessed, Jung Hoseok definitely does not agree to do anything just for three-dollar tacos that he could just as easily go out during taco truck season and purchase a handful himself. He definitely does not agree to do anything for anyone. Period.

So what the fuck is he doing here, on a Saturday morning, back at your apartment, your hand extended out towards him, fingers curling in slightly the longer he leaves you hanging because this—this—is just too much, too overwhelming, too—!

“Weird!” Hoseok whines, bringing his own hands close to his chest. Your hand is still being offered toward him, your knuckles and skin look soft and the space between your fingers look lonely and a hand has never looked so tempting before and maybe that’s why he’s being so strange and so hesitant. He knows he’s about to bite off more than he can chew, knows that this is all much easier in theory than actual practice, but he can’t help himself.

You roll your eyes without contempt. “C’mon Hoseok, it’s just my hand, it’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“You clearly haven’t been on the receiving end of any of your slaps before,” He bites back, although he doesn’t know why he’s trying to put up such a fight. This had been his idea to start with and his idea to do this with you, yet he’s the one being stubborn about it.

You pout. “Hoseok, this family gathering is in less than ten hours; we need to have at least some kind of practice on hand holding and relationship shit, I don’t want either of us screaming when the other tries to wrap arms around the other’s waist or something.”

“That would be pretty funny though,” Hoseok adds, grinning, the smile diffusing when you shove his shoulder. “Ow, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll be serious now.”

“Good.” You reply, offering your hand towards him once more.

Hoseok flickers his gaze from you to the hand settled between the two of you. He looks down at his own hand, already looking significantly bigger than your own and wonders not for the first time if this would really be a good idea before reaching to overlap his hand with your own. Strangely, the palms fit nicely on top of each other, even as everything around him feels as if it’s slowing down to match the chilling and overwhelming sensation of fingers lacing through the empty spaces.

He can’t tell if he’s sweating or the feeling of his heartbeat increasing dangerously could be felt through the skin. He really doesn’t hope that’s the case, especially since the last time he held hands with a girl was during some middle school theater production which went about as well as one might think—even considering the fact that he hated that girl to death. Now that he’s here, with someone who he most definitely does not hate, holding your hand, the experience is sending his brain in through a haywire.

Still, despite his own feelings to keep himself afloat, he can’t help but bask in the sensation of your touch. He hadn’t even realized how desperately he needed it until this moment, how nice and natural it feels to hold your hand like this, even though your fingers and palm are much smaller in comparison to his. It makes him feel protective and needed, but also reassured and comforted.

“You’re tense,” You point out, giving him a side eye, which is when he realizes that yes, he’s just about as relaxed as a board.

“I’m not,” He says instead, trying to hunch his back slightly to give off the impression of being slightly more composed despite the fire going on in his mind.

“Yes you are!” You fight back, untangling your fingers from his and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. It’s almost embarrassing how lonely his hand now feels on its own. “Hoseok, you have to loosen up otherwise we’re never going to pull this off.”

He lets out a breath. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m not use to this, okay sweetheart? It’s not like there’s a FAKE RELATIONSHIP RULES FOR DUMMIES book at Barnes and Nobles that we could pick up and skim through.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “That would be a pretty good idea actually, you think we should go check it out just to make sure—?”

“Y/N.”

You close your eyes, shake your head. “Right, right. Okay. Here, how about we do a little bonding exercise that I learned while at summer camp.” You’re leaning over to the coffee table to make reach for your phone. “It’s where we look at each other for two minutes in complete silence.”

“Uh.” If the thought of holding your hand is more than enough to set Hoseok’s body aflame, then having to stare at you makes worries spring up in his mind. What if you caught his eye and read all the emotions he had tried to stomp away to a place where they would never have to see sunlight again? What if he can’t stop himself from staring at your lips and kissing you or whispering a dreadful secret that usually takes the form of three words?

However, before he can speak the first set of excuses that reach his mind, you’re already setting the two minute timer on your phone and turning to look at him. He’s expecting something dreadful and awkward and flushed cheeks, but once again he finds that he is pleasantly surprised. It’s definitely an unique experience, but it’s not uncomfortable or bothersome by any means. He finds that he cannot simply stare at one place for too long, even though you’re rather good at keeping your eye contact with him. He looks at your eyes, takes in the deep color that threatens to drown him, how he can count the number of specs that dance behind the orbs. Then, he decides to move on, taking in the sloping curve of your eyebrows, the apples of your cheeks, your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips—!

Panicking, he darts his eyes back up to find yours once more. It’s only two minutes of his life, but the seconds sure seem to stretch out. He watches the way you flicker your gaze between his eyes, an unusual touch hidden within the color, the occasional flicker downwards and he can feel his heart racing and plunging and compressing all in one when he mirrors your gaze and finds that you have been staring at his lips, just as he now is with you—oh fuck—!

The timer goes off.

You blink, pulling yourself away from the situation and bringing your attention to your phone to turn off the timer, leaving Hoseok alone with his thoughts over what had just happened and what could have potentially happened if time had been irrelevant. He leans back on the couch, watching you, trying to will his heart to calm down before facing you again. He allows himself two deep breaths in and out, offering his hand out to you this time.

You catch the gesture out of the corner of your eye and grin, reaching over to take it slowly, lacing the fingers together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to do. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You look at him, continuing to smile with all teeth and no hesitance, yet there is a longing touch of something crinkling at the corner of your eyes and there is something lopsided about your smile that he finds difficult to ignore.

Yet he does, just managing a smile and he squeezes your hand just enough to keep him grounded. “Yeah.”

.

Even with the brief overview of your family, a simple walk through on how the pair of you met, how long you’ve been together, even when the small practices on hand holding and arms curling around the waist, trying to do enough to plant an air of naturality between the two of you, it doesn’t feel like enough—although Hoseok is sure that all the preparation in the world wouldn’t come close to making him feel any more assured. It makes him wonder why he had decided to engage in something of this degree, why he would dare to make himself pretend to have feelings when he really does but he can’t have you know that. The complication of having to feign emotions that he actually harbors while acting like he doesn’t while he really does is enough to make his head spin.

All he knows is that he cannot seem to stop drumming his fingers, a nervous habit that he developed at a young age and something he just couldn’t seem to write off so here he is years later drumming his fingers on his legs, on the dashboard, against the back of your hand as he pair of you wait on the front porch of your relative’s estate.

“Don’t worry,” You say underneath your breath, as if your entire family could hear you through the door. “You’ll be great. Just don’t try to overthink it—just be yourself.”

Hoseok exhales. “It’s impossible to put ‘being myself’ and ‘overthinking’ in the same sentence.”

You give him a side glare. “You know what I mean.”

He does know what you really mean, but he doesn’t get to say that because the door swings open to reveal a figure who he recognizes to be your mother. “Y/N!” She greets, delivering forth a bright smile even as her gaze slides over and notices Hoseok by your side. “Oh, who’s this?”

You cast him a look. “Uh, mom, this is Hoseok, my boyfriend,” You introduce, turning to look at him again. “Hoseok, this is my mom.”

Your mom claps her hands together, looking ecstatic that you’ve (finally) been able to bring someone to a family gathering, and she isn’t afraid to voice that out loud as she gestures for the pair of you to step inside. A majority of the rooms are filled with groups of people, each engaged in their own conversations, but each take the time to say their hellos as well as bombard poor Hoseok with questions regarding his major, family life, friendships, his plans for the future. These don’t last long, thankfully, because you do well on dragging him away when he feels like he’s about to burst.

He’s too caught up in answering the questions, in trying to come up with decent answers that’ll impress your relatives that he nearly forgets about you until the pair of you are finally alone for the first time in almost an hour, both of you at the buffet table.

He’s in the middle of trying to reach for a wonton when, “Hey.” A nudge right into his rib cage. “Hey.”

“Ouch, what? What is it?” Hoseok returns, suddenly all alerts and careful eyes as he turns his neck slightly to look at you. You’re staring right back at him, taking in his cautious expression and worried front—the same one that he’s had since the start of this gathering. As casual as it may be, and as laid-back as your family actually is, Hoseok still feels like he’s been stepping on pins and needles since the start of this goddamn thing, since the start of the goddamn request that’s gotten him in this mess to begin with, since he discovered you at the kitchen counter in a time that suddenly seems so long ago.

“My aunts and uncles have been staring at you for the past twenty minutes,” You hiss, trying to keep your voice low and smile present, so your relatives would think you and Hoseok were discussing typical romantic relationship shit (whatever the fuck that meant) rather than planning on how to go about continuing to lie to their faces.

“What am I supposed to do about that?”

You give him a side glare. “Shouldn’t you be more… I don’t know, romantic or something? Everyone is looking at you like you’re not doing enough.”

“I’m just doing what you taught me back at the apartment!” He protests, lowering his voice when he sees the warning glint in your eyes. “In case you didn’t realize, sweetheart, I’m just as lost and confused as you are. I’m playing this by ear just as much as you are.”

You make a face at him, one that he returns back with ease, until you’re reaching over to gently pinch his cheek. “Okay, how about this. We’ll just keep walking around, maybe talk to my cousins and my aunt over there. Put your arm around me.”

He sighs, trying desperately to think about all the free tacos you had promised him in exchange for this. He doesn’t try to think about how nice you feel underneath his touch, how warm and comforting and study you feel as you wrap your own arm around his waist, leading him through and making more conversation with your family. Even when the pair of you do find spots to sit at.

Yet, he still feels the impending weight of expectation on his shoulders, provided forth so lovingly from your family that takes the form of lingering stares and flickering eyes in a way that leaves him with the vaguest panic that your family isn’t entirely buying the handholding and quiet behind-the-scene bickering in the corner about how the fuck the pair of you were supposed to pull this off.  

“Hey,” You say again, recapturing his attention as soon as the pair of you break away from the group once more with the excuse to throw away your finished plates, but also to engage in another private conversation. “Kiss me when everyone is looking.”

The forwardness of your statement is enough to get him to raise his eyebrow, although it’s not enough to mask the sudden racing of his heartbeat. “What?”

“My relatives are getting that disbelieving look on their face that I hate,” You explain, casting a sideways glance at them, to which Hoseok realizes that they’re all doing the exact same to the pair of you. “Please? Do this for me.”

He rolls his eyes to cover up the little voice inside of his head that says that he would pretty much do anything for you. Of course he would. Why else would he have agreed to take time out of his Saturday night just to convince your family that you weren’t as big a loser as they all seemed to think you were (although, honestly, you are a loser, but he means it more as a term of endearment because—oh, you know what, never mind).

So, for you, he flickers his gaze over to your family and can only catch a handful of them blatantly staring back at the pair of you before he is overcome with the sudden urge to follow through on your request.

Rather boldly, he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, stealing one last glance at your family before he brings a hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer, so close, but not close enough—he only manages a brush of his lips against yours before there are already butterflies and fireworks exploding in his stomach and behind his eyes. He only lets himself indulge in the lightest amount of pressure, the briefest graze of his tongue along your upper lip, before he’s pulling away just as quickly as he had come in.

He opens his eyes first, long enough to see you slowly peel your own eyes open, orbs gazing up at him with questions springing up behind the color like flowers taking in their first breath of spring, and although he isn’t aware of what his own eyes look like, he can only assume that he’s not too far off.

And if you hold him a little closer, grip his hand a little tighter, like you’re afraid to let go and watch him slip away, he tries not to pay attention to it and tries not to notice the way he feels the exact same way with you.

.

Walking to your apartment feels strangely like returning home, although he doesn’t entirely blame himself for this sensation. Truthfully, he’s spent more time in your space than he has in any other place throughout the duration of the week, whether it be with desperately trying to shove philosophy terms into his mind or training himself on how to hold your hand without simultaneously letting out all of his deep and meaningful secrets. He may roll his eyes about it or grumble about how uncool it is to your face, but he can’t really picture himself doing anything else now that he knows that you’ve been such an extensive feature of his life for a week.

This feeling leaves a strange and unpleasant sensation to brew in the pit of his stomach, the thought of what he’s going to do next when he steps away and no longer serves a purpose in your life plaguing his mind.

He must not do a good job of covering up his emotions, because he notices the way you spare him a glance out of the corner of your eye in the car, the way you turn to him, the way your arm reaches to cross the space of distance, the way your hand finds his. “Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t even have the mind to let you know that none of your relatives are in this apartment complex, that there is no need to put up a front and feel like you have to hold his hand out of sheer obligation, because he likes your touch and craves it and can’t lose it now that he’s been faced with all the goodness that happens while having it in his possession.

“Y-Yeah,” He manages after a moment, long after you’ve parked in your typical parking spot, bathing the pair of you in the darkness and the silence of the evening. “Everything is fine.”

The corner of your lips quirk up slightly as you try to untangle your fingers from Hoseok’s hold. “Okay.” You run the palm of your hands over each other. “You good to drive back?”

“L-Let me walk you to your door first,” He offers a little too quickly, but it’s worth it in the way you smile lightly, the way you nod and allow him to follow closely behind you as the pair of you make your way into the complex and into the elevator. There is an air of naturality that doesn’t feel too constraining, even as you both stand in silence, the movement of the elevator moving up providing background noise.

There is no pressure for conversation even as you lead him down the halls, even though he knows the direction by heart at this point. He doesn’t really know the purpose of his intentions, perhaps to extend this moment for a long as he possibly can, because Jung Hoseok may want to be a lot of new things because of you, but selfishness is a consistency he cannot stand to lose right now.

To him, it feels like you reach your front door too early, so he hopes that the disappointment doesn’t show in his features as you dig around your bag for your set of keys before turning around to face him once more. You bite your lip to hide your smile as you gesture to the closed door with your shoulder. “So, this is me.”

He smiles back. “I know.”

You nod, taking in a breath, steering yourself for the next set of words that are about to leave your mouth. “Hoseok, thank you again for today. You really helped me out and now I can just prolong on getting a real boyfriend, which might be good for my sanity, so thank you.”

“Of course,” He manages earnestly. “You helped me with my Philosophy grade, so it only seems fair.”

“You’d better work hard on maintaining it though,” You tease. “I won’t accept any excuses if you try to come crawling back to me.”

“I’ll miss you breathing down my neck though,” He retorts back with just as much of a light-hearted touch to his statement, because it’s the truth. Even though the pair of you still share the same Philosophy lecture, it still feels like as soon as he allows himself to walk down the hall, things would be different. “Hey, another thing…”

“What is it?” You tilt your head to the side.

“You… you shouldn’t see getting a real boyfriend as an obligation,” He manages, scratching the back of his neck because this hadn’t been rehearsed. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll find the right guy no matter what—anyone would be crazy not to fall in love with you.” Myself included.

Something in your expression changes. Your eyes widen slightly, your lips part, you look genuinely taken aback by his words, as if you hadn’t expected anything of the sort; yet you don’t look angered or discomforted by it. Instead, you smile shyly, pressing your lips together and you cannot look him in the eye and he wonders if your heart is beating just as much as his.

So he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and willing you to meet his gaze, which you do after a moment of hesitation. Your eyes have taken on a glassy shade, a feeling hidden behind that is not unlike the glimmer he saw back at the gathering. There is a yearning that he feels in his own nerves, underneath his own fingertips, silently pleading him and guiding him forward. He cups the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he brings you towards him to press his mouth against yours—the sensation not unlike the kiss he delivered to you at the gathering. But there something more; both of you want more, and it shows in the way you grip his t-shirt this time, the way you lean forward to return his kiss.

It’s like swarms of butterflies have grown in his stomach, his heart expanding to the size of the moon for a different reason other than just pure adoration for you—it feels like something more earth-changing, a feeling more hardwired to another akin to eternity, like he could spend forever just kissing you and being with you and he wouldn’t mind one goddamn bit.

Both his hands have moved up to cup your face to keep you as close as possible and even closer than that, his fingers desperately trying to remember everything about this moment, from the way your neck as craned up to meet his mouth, the way he can feel your heartbeat against his skin.

“Y/N,” He grunts against your lips, the vibrations dragging whimpers from the back of your throat. “I-I have to tell you something.”

The sound of the front door opening immediately pulls both of you from your trane, sending a whirlwind of different emotions through his body as his first instinct is to rip himself away from you. It appears to be your reflexive decision as well, because you back up so sharply that you hit the doorframe. It allows him to see the flushed complexion of your face, the fact that he made you like that, but it also allows him to see that Karly is the one who had opened the door.

It’s easy to see the shock upon her expression, the momentarily flare of jealousy that goes off like an explosion behind her eyes, but that light disappears just as quickly as it had come, because she is suddenly back to being the attentive roommate Hoseok never got to see.

“Y/N, you’re back,” She says, training her gaze intently on you in order to gauge your features. “How was the gathering?”

You catch your breath, looking down to pick up the keys you hadn’t even noticed you had dropped. “U-Uh it went good. Great, actually.” You flicker your gaze over to Hoseok. “I-I should go.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

He exhales in a laugh. “I look forward to it. B-Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Hoseok.” You spare him one last glance before allowing Karly to drag you into the apartment.

.

It’s hard to categorize your feelings as you step in through the door and can barely catch the way Karly shuts the door behind you, too overcome by a tickling, fluttering sensation rooted at the bottom of your chest. It makes your fingers reach up for your lips, makes your mouth curl up at the corners, makes the longing sensation in Hoseok’s voice and eyes replay itself over and over again like flickers in the back of your mind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Karly inquires softly, snapping you out of your trance as you whirl around to find her still lingering by the door. Her gaze is fixated intensely on you, not a ounce of remorse or envy or sadness hidden behind her eyes—instead, there is something akin to sympathy and that gets you to stall slightly with your movements.

“Karly…” You start, bringing your fingers together. “I just—!”

“I get that he offered to pretend being your boyfriend and all, and that’s fine, but pretend anythings don’t make out like that in front of an apartment,” She notes, gesturing past the door but you don’t need a reminder. “When did… that start happening?”

You shake your head, shrugging. “I don’t know, I think something has always been there.”

“Are you in love with Hoseok?”

You dig your nails into the skin of your fingers, the fear of having to battle this question hitting you for the very first time since you started that… thing with the boy. You recognize that your friendship with him doesn’t necessarily sprout from the most traditional of means, but you like to think the pair of you have reached a good place, a stable setting, a relatively strong foundation. It’s why you trust him so much, even though you shouldn’t, why you’re so naturally fond and drawn to him, despite his reputation.

“Look,” Karly starts, her voice soft and soothing and clearly preparing you for some bad news as she takes the few steps in order to reach you. “Y/N, I really care about you, and I know your whole deal with relationships isn’t the most positive so I would hate for you to get hurt. I just, I’m just not sure if Hoseok is the best thing to be introduced in your life. I mean, look at him! Look at his reputation! If he and I hadn’t had sex that night, the pair of you might not have even met in the first place.”

You give her a nervous look, having completely forgotten that the only reason Hoseok was in your apartment in the first place was because he and Karly did have sex that night—and much like cold water you can feel the reality of the situation beginning to settle in. You are reminded of the difference you and Hoseok led in terms of interest, activities, and ambitions; how you believed in love and romance and Hoseok has never committed himself to a relationship, how Hoseok did not do the relationship thing, how he used them until they used up their purpose in his life.

It makes you think, makes you think if all of these things Hoseok has done with you has been part of an act, as been part of his desire to knock another girl off his list. He had been trying to flirt with you when the pair of you first met, perhaps he had tried to do whatever he could to get under your skin. It had worked.

You had played yourself right into his trap.

“Guys like Hoseok,” Karly adds in, reaching over to rest her hand gently on your shoulder. “They take innocent girls, ones who haven’t been hardened by life yet, girls like you, and he gives them a reason to make them wary. He doesn’t do the dating thing, I’m not even sure if he has the emotional capability to hold romantic feelings anymore.”

You look up and fixate your attention on Karly’s expression, seeing the truth of her words and the purity of her intentions and you find yourself consoling in it. After all, Karly is a byproduct of the same world that Hoseok lives, so it makes sense that Karly would have a closer hand in understanding the type of thoughts running through the boy’s mind.

Karly squeezes your shoulder. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you’re my best friend and I know that it’s best to let you know these ahead of time before you get hurt.”

“Do… do you think he’s just using me?”

She sighs. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen him return back to people the way he returns back to you. But I just… I don’t know, Y/N, he’s bad news—bad news before you met and he’ll probably just be more bad news once the pair of you move past this.”

You press your lips together, mind reeling over this presentation of new information and how a seemingly perfect day can go horribly wrong within the span of just a few minutes. There are so many questions you have, so many things you want to ask that it makes your head spin, but you simply nod and grumble something about going to your room.

In a way, you shouldn’t be mad at Karly for sharing her concerns with you, because Karly is one of your best friends and telling her not to be honest with you was something that you would never want to do to her. If anything, you should be mad at yourself for letting your mess with Hoseok unravel and letting yourself be blinded with the dose of reality you knew would come back to bite you in the ass at some point.

You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be so naive, to think that the world didn’t exist beyond the walls in which you and Hoseok used to isolate yourselves from the world, to think that the time you shared together could just carry on forever with no repercussions whatsoever.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, why would Hoseok actually want to date you? What kind of personal benefits would come out of that? He wouldn��t gain anything socially and people like Hoseok thrive off their social life. The longer you sit on your bed, letting Karly’s words and your own insecurities eat at the inside of your mind, the longer you can feel its poison settling in that you had to end things with Hoseok and that you had to cut yourself out of his life while you still could.

You wonder if it’ll hurt, but you wonder if he’ll even care.

With a sigh, you lay yourself atop the covers of your bed, curling up and only allowing the words of your roommate to sink even lower and lower underneath your skin. Hoseok has always been quiet about his feelings, always quiet about where he saw you and him in the long run, always quiet about whether or not you were actually of value in his life—all of which leaves an uncomfortable sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach.

You needed to do this, if only to make it easier for you to let go, if only to let you swallow the pill of Hoseok’s real life with a bit more ease.

You know it’s the right thing to do for the sake of your sanity, yet you find yourself still dreading the thought of walking into Philosophy and seeing Hoseok and wondering if he has any idea. He probably doesn’t, probably doesn’t even realize what he’s been doing to you for the past few weeks, probably doesn’t even care.

The thoughts are valid enough to drill itself into your mind with little resistance to the matter. Why would there even be a problem with trying to convince you otherwise? Doubt festers like a poison in your mind because Karly has a point. You and Hoseok are separated by miles and oceans and space filled with different activities and different interacts and different futures—you weren’t cool like him or talented or funny. You would never had the opportunity to talk to him or be with him or fall in love with him if it wasn’t for Karly introducing him into your life.

And now you were paying the price.

.

You don’t go to class on that following Monday. It’s a first for you, but the thought of having to sit next to Hoseok and have him smile at you and remain oblivious to your mindset only makes you nauseous and hurt. You know that the more responsible thing to do would be to confront Hoseok and just say the words that have gradually become more and more lodged in the back of your throat but you also can’t bring yourself to be upfront. Being upfront would make everything a reality and could potentially uncover everything that you’ve tried to hide away.

So you stay quiet and you stay away. You ignore Hoseok’s texts inquiring about your whereabouts and if you had caught a cold, you ignore his calls and when he shows up at your front door with polite knocks and stammering questions. You know that Hoseok isn’t stupid and you know that ignoring the problem won’t make it go away and yet you persist on.

It’s only a matter of time before Hoseok is able to catch you, able to find a flaw in your schedule of How To Avoid Jung Hoseok—but you have to admit that he seeks you out much quicker than you had originally anticipated.

Except you really hadn’t expected to find him in your apartment, although you don’t know why you’re so surprised. You had told him where the spare key was and had completely forgotten to move it after attempting to set your plan into motion. This just goes to show how little success your arrangement involving Hoseok typically go.

“Hoseok,” You manage to greet, finding yourself completely rooted to the spot as you practically stick yourself to the front door, the noise echoing through the silence of the apartment. You wish Karly was here to help you find your bearings but of course she’s out attending another party. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I was always welcomed into your apartment anytime,” He says softly, a undertone of hurt in his voice but you do well in trying to ignore it. “You’ve been avoiding me for the past few days so I wasn’t sure if the offer still stands.”

You chew your lip, angling your head away from Hoseok’s intense stare so you could attempt to hide away from the full impact and full emotion dancing behind his eyes. “I’m not avoiding you,” You try, swallowing and knowing that you are terrible at lying to him.

“You haven’t been going to our philosophy class,” He reasons. “You always attend class.” He straightens off the kitchen table where he had been originally seated. “The only thing that changed between last class and the class you didn’t attend was…” He trails off, clearly in reference to the kiss that still makes your cheeks burn. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I do something to hurt you? Because I’m sorry if I did, you’re honestly the last person I would ever want to hurt.”

“I-It wasn’t you,” You protest weakly.

“Then what was it?” Hoseok presses, stepping closer to you. “Is someone fucking with you? Is something on your mind? You know you can always come to me if something is bothering you.” He makes a move, as if he wants to grab you and keep you from drifting so far away even if you haven’t moved from your position against the door since arriving. But he must see something in your eyes that spell out just how much you’re lying to him that it keeps him from reaching out to you.

You press your lips together, trying to steel your nerves and make yourself stronger. “I can’t do this anymore,” You whisper, looking up from some faraway point in the distance to risk a glance at Hoseok’s expression.

There is a flash of something in his eyes, something that you are unable to catch before it flickers away. He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” You whisper back. “Look Hoseok, we’re just from two completely different worlds and we both have different expectations for our own lives. You live your life the way you want to just as I do the same for myself and I think trying to avoid that will just be prolonging it.”

“Woah, woah,” Hoseok cuts in, bringing a hand up to the door to cage you in. “Y/N, where is this coming from?”

“It’s not coming from anywhere,” You say, shaking your head a little. “It’s just, you’re you and I’m just… me.”

“You’re just you?” He repeats, furrowing his eyebrows together. “What are you talking about? You aren’t making sense.”

You shake your head, already feeling the flush of embarrassment beginning to hit your cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. I think you should leave now.”

Hoseok swallows, clenches his jaw together, something he only does when he’s desperately trying to understand something to no success. You’ve seen the expression more than once while tutoring him and just being around him so you have to look down before you can start to regret shutting him out.

“Y/N, please, try to help me understand,” He urges quietly, desperately, leaning in, cupping your face with one hand. “Please. You’ve become so important to me that the fact that you’re just shutting me out now is just so confusing and I don’t think I can handle that.”

You move to pry his hands from your face. “We’re just two completely different people from two different worlds and it’ll never work out. You should go.”

“But I just—!”

“Go.” You cut in, closing your eyes, a note of finality in your tone, letting go of Hoseok’s hand and moving to the side to leave the door wide open. He doesn’t try to stop you this time, doesn’t try to suck the answer out of you through puppy dog eyes. Instead he watches you for a few more seconds, as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. He recognizes your stubborn nature and knows how difficult it is to fight it. So he nods regretfully, opening the door, turning to look at you one last time, before finally taking his leave.

You are left alone in the apartment, staring at the spot that Hoseok once stood as you process everything and try not to tell yourself that you had just made a terrible mistake.

.

Jung Hoseok doesn’t try to contact you after that and for a moment, you are grateful. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you must mean that Karly’s previous accusations have been right and the boy is only now starting to realize that you have caught on. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you means that you can attempt for some closure and be able to end that chapter of your life without making too big of a deal about it.

However, like everything in your life that involves Jung Hoseok, there is flip side to every blessing and it’s as if life can never wait too long before attempting to bite you back in the ass.

Except this time, this particular moment just feels like the biggest bite the world has ever delivered to you.

If you had known an hour ago that walking into the coffee shop just off campus would result in exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid for a weeks now, perhaps you would have rethought your decision to enter aforementioned coffee shop in the first place. Maybe you would have rethought the schedule of your entire day, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid the shop and therefore avoid him.

Not just avoid him, but avoid those lingering stares he’s been giving you for the past few weeks—the touch of desperation that always seemed to hide in the inner corner of his eyes but worse of all that feeling you got in your chest whenever he was in close proximity. Like right now, for example.

All you know is that maybe, just maybe, turning around had not been the smartest trick in the book and you should consider yourself lucky for not dropping your coffee upon the ground. You have a tendency of getting carried away in the midst of a great shock, especially when it comes to Hoseok.

He’s giving you a wide-eyed stare, the kind that reveals the depth of his shock and how he had most certainly not been expecting to actually run into you today. Even though the pair of you still share class, you’ve always managed to escape before he could successfully corner you and it’s clear that he’s almost given up the prospect of trying to fix whatever had broken between the two of you.

At once, seeing him right here and right now, just reminds you of all the characteristics and qualities you’ve come to adore so much about him: from his warm, good-spirit to his dorky and careful habits that almost didn’t match the popular facade he gave off constantly in the halls. Within such a short period of time, you made him different and better—time and distance definitely has not come close to changing that.

“Hey,” You say, voice barely above a whisper. “Y-You aren’t following me, are you?”

“U-Um…” He stammers, returning your question with his own awestruck quality, his tone airy and unbelievable and you wish you would have better prepared yourself for a situation like this. The pair of you go to the same university and attend the same class and have come to know him better than you know yourself in only a week—how the fuck could you have not seen this coming? “N-No, I’m really not. I just… I just needed a caffeine fix.”

You nod quickly, holding up your own cup of coffee and gripping it a little too tightly with the hopes he won’t see the way your fingers tremble. “Me too. H-How have things been with you? It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” He agrees, trying for a shrug. “I, uh, just found out I got this job at the music studio in the city. It’s just for an internship, but I’ll get to organize music and meet producers so I’m pretty excited.”

The news of Hoseok’s good fortune makes you lower your coffee and lower your guard, lips parting and curling up and the hesitancy momentarily disappearing. “Really? Hoseok, that’s so great.”

“Thanks,” He returns breathlessly, lips curling up into his own, private smile—the kind that’s usually only reserved for you. “C-Can you stick around? We can catch up.”

For a moment, you blame the momentary race of your heartbeat on the anticipation you had constantly felt towards the thought of a moment like this and how hesitant you are. Of course you’re still feeling this way. After all, as soon as Hoseok walked out of the apartment, you had fully readied yourself to carry on with the rest of your life with the boy no longer in the picture. You had gone through the whole process of accepting your differences and coming to terms with the fact that things would never have worked out regardless of your beliefs and your hopes and the whole reversal process of your grief is not something that could be so easily mended over a cup of coffee.

So why does a part of you feel like it could? Maybe it’s the romantic part of you, the hopeful part that has always loved and believed in Jung Hoseok and the idea that perhaps he could return your feelings, the part you’re often too scared to think about that just wants to try and make things right.

All it takes is one lingering gaze upon his expression, to really see all that desperation and pleading in such close proximity for you, kind-hearted and whole and reassuring and much too good for this world, to cave. “Oh, alright.”

You try to ignore the way his eyes light up, the way the corner of his lips turn up for a second too long before he’s leading the way, gesturing to a corner booth big enough to house the two of you and private enough that you don’t have to think about any onlookers—a probably unconscious movement on Hoseok’s part that you find yourself appreciating. That way no one will see the popular, the charming, the star athlete, hanging out with the quiet, the studious, the nobody.

You swallow. You try not to think about those things, because thinking like that will lead to missing him, which would lead to wanting him back in your life, and you don’t think you could stand the heartbreak of having to let go of him again due to your own insecurities.

“So, how have you been?” He starts off, slow and steady and testing the waters, not knowing how far he can go without getting shut out again. It seems as if no matter how far he tried to separate himself, his mind always returned him back to that evening where his whole life changed, in which he tried to do everything afterwards to separate himself from his feelings to no true success.

You brush the hair out of your face, picking up your coffee in favor of looking at him because you have a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach that tells you he’s most definitely watching you and trying to generate some sort of noteworthy response. You wonder what his expectations of you are right now and you wonder if you’re any close to meeting it—you wonder if he’s hoping you would be willing to offer some sort of explanation pertaining to that night and you wonder if you’re willing to be that vulnerable.

“I’ve been good,” You say, nodding carefully, curious about how much would be appropriate to disclose to someone you used to not think twice about telling everything to. A part of you hates it, hates the wall that you’ve gradually started to build around yourself, even if it had been done so out of your own fears and insecurities of not being good enough. You decide to talk briefly about your classes before you find yourself accidentally going off about a recent situation that had occurred while you took a visit to the campus bookstore.

To go more into detail, you talk about talking into aforementioned shop looking for twenty books for some English extra credit assignment, in which said twenty books needed to be read and converted into an essay. You go into the difficulty of trying to find all those novels on your own, how you had attempted to stack one on top of the other only to have the whole thing fall in you, how you had received multiple bruises along your face and arm as a result. By the time the story is done, Hoseok is smiling fondly over at you, shaking his head with a smile still present on his lips.

“You’re just way too clumsy for your own good,” He points out, lowering his hand, eyes never leaving yours.

His statement leaves you unable to stop from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I bet you must really miss me and all of this, huh?”

The question, meant to be nothing but sarcastic and light-hearted and your stupid, stupid attempt to rid of the tension in the atmosphere, produces only the stiffest laugh from the back of your throat. You lift your coffee, desperate for some kind of distraction to keep your hands busy, but you make the mistake of lifting your gaze to see how Hoseok is taking your stupid, stupid joke.

You stop short when you notice how quiet he’s become, how silent and unbearable your words have rendered him into and for a moment, you think that you are the one who has overstepped the line—which, considering everything Hoseok has subjected to you over the course of the week you had gotten to know him, is stating a lot.

Hoseok’s attention is focused entirely on you, lips parted slightly, and you swear you can see the way his breathing has picked up as if he’s trying to will himself to say something that could either make or break the next step of your relationship.

It isn’t until your own smile has diffused does he finally will himself to speak his mind: “You know I have.”

You swallow, looking down at your coffee cup and tracing your finger lightly over the rim, feeling the panic of Hoseok’s words start to settle in. “T-That was out of line for me to say,” You say, tightening your grip on the cup and starting to stand. A flash of panic flickers in Hoseok’s eyes. “I should go.”

“N-No, Y/N, wait.” Hoseok stands up just enough to make a desperate grab for your wrist. You stare back at him with wide-eyes. “Please, just stay for a moment. I haven’t been able to talk to you or even look at you for too long over the past few weeks and it’s been driving me crazy s-so please. Stop shutting me out. Tell me what I did wrong, and I promise I’ll fix it.”

“It’s really not you, Hoseok,” You state, staring down at the sight of his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “It’s me.”

“Bullshit,” He cuts in, interrupting you with so such a sneer that you find yourself looking up to study his expression. He clenches his jaw, trying to will himself to stay calm but it’s hard. “You don’t get to look at me like I’ve become your whole world and then avoid me and never talk to me again—that’s not fair.”

You try to pull your wrist back to no luck. “Oh, you mean like what you were going to do to me eventually? I was just trying to spare myself that heartbreak from letting you drag out whatever this is any longer.”

Hoseok knits his eyebrows together. “Like what I was going to do to you? What are you talking about? I would never do anything to hurt you like that.”

“Well, why not?” You bite back. “Why would I be any different from all these other girls that you sleep with and mess around with?”

He looks pained. “Are you really asking me what makes you so different?”

“Of course I am! Why would I be different? I’ve got nothing going for me when it comes to you—I mean, you’re Jung Hoseok and I’m just me; you’re just as out of my league as you were when we first met. I don’t live like you so how could I ever be enough for you—!”

Without a warning, Hoseok tightens his grip on your wrist and steps out of his side of the booth, circling around in order to be as close to you as possible. “It’s because I’m in love with you, you fucking moron. I don’t care if you don’t live like me, I’m glad you don’t because I’ve always hated the thought of you only seeing me as the party kid, the guy who messes around with girls, or the guy who doesn’t even care because I care about you so much that I didn’t even think that was possible.”

You continue to stare wide-eyed at the boy, flickering your gaze between his eyes as if trying to read any potential sarcasm in his statement and you grow increasingly more nervous when you can’t find any of that. “B-But,” You manage. “I’m just me—!”

“Yeah,” He interrupts. “You’re just you—but that’s what I love so much. You being you is the only thing I’ll ever need. I promise. Please give me the chance to show you how much you mean to me.”

You flicker your gaze down to his lips, switching between his mouth and his eyes and knowing you can never resist him and that maybe Karly didn’t know as much as you thought she did. “Okay,” You whisper, nodding even after the words of confirmation leave your lips.

Hoseok’s own eyes widen for a second, his lips curling up into that breathless smile you love so much. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Yeah, I believe you. I trust you—and I love you too.”

He presses his lips together, but his attempt to diffuse his smile doesn’t work out. “So, is there another family gathering you need to attend? It’ll feel less guilty when we go knowing that we aren’t lying to them the next time around.”

You laugh, heart racing at the implication of his statement. “I know.”

#bangtan bookclub #hoseok scenario #hoseok fluff #jung hoseok scenario #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts x reader #traci writes #repost: workofteaguk

[mattygraygubler]

our campus: chapter 3 (tom holland fanfic)

summary: frat!tom and reader go to the same college and y/n is tasked with being his tutor, they don’t really get along at first (because i love reader and tom hating each other trope)

warnings: talk of being roofied, drinking

word count: 3.1k

a/n: more dialogue and texts????? someone come take my laptop away ALSO bold is texts or emails, u get it

for a list of characters click here

to be added to the tag list send me an ask !

masterlist

✰✰✰✰✰

“So???” Emily said immediately as you sat down at your usual table for lunch. You dropped your salad and slid into the seat next to Ally. 

“So what?” You asked, even though you knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“Tutor boy! Is he hot for teacher yet?” Emily said with a wink. 

“God, Em, you’re the worst.” You replied. 

“And you are avoiding the question.” Isabelle said as she grabbed your iced tea. “You can have this back after you dish.” 

“Fine. His name is Tom Holland-” you were interrupted by Ally choking on her water, spitting all over her empty plate. 

“Tom Holland?! God, Y/N, I am so sorry.” Ally said. “He’s the fucking worst.” 

“What what what explain now.” Emily said in one breath. 

“Ok so first of all he’s super hot, so no matter what he auditions for, he always gets cast. In fact, he’s currently starring in Romeo and Juliet, which if you remember I’m stage managing. So needless to say, I unfortunately have to work very, very closely with him.” 

“Al, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Emily said giddily. 

“For Y/N’s sake, I was praying it wasn’t him.”

“What was he like?” Isabelle asked you. 

“Well he came up to me and hit on me before realizing I was his tutor.” You said, and then proceeded to tell the rest of the horrible story of your first encounter with Tom. 

“Ohmigod he’s totally into you,” Emily said in one breath. 

“Yeah, you need to stop tutoring him.” Isabelle said. 

“Iz, are you INSANE?!” Emily replied. 

“What? He’s obviously incredibly disrespectful. She shouldn’t waste her time.” 

“Look, I’m gonna give him the benefit of the doubt. The second he breaks a rule, I’m done.” 

“I love it when you give boys rules, it’s so hot,” Isabelle said and you all laughed. 

The rest of the day passed by relatively quickly, and thankfully the delta nu meeting finished early, meaning you could get some work done before Tom showed up. 

You were sat in the hlab, getting some work done for your political conflict class, when a figure slid in across from you, pulling one of your headphones out of your ear. 

“Jess!” You greeted Jessie with a smile. 

“I have goss.” She replied. Just like Jessie, always straight to the point, and always the center of gossip. 

“About who?” You asked, intrigued. 

“You.”

“Me?” She nodded, a giddy smile on her lips. 

“Word around the quad is that a certain tutee of yours has a little crush.”

“Jessie, what are you talking about.” 

“Tom told Harrison, who told James, who told Max, who told me that he said you were gorgeous and that he didn’t think he could work with someone he was so attracted to.” You rolled your eyes. 

“What a bunch of bullshit. He’s just a horny frat boy.”

“Y/N! You LOVE horny frat boys!”

“Well he’s not my type.” 

“How?! He’s absolutely gorgeous.” 

“You fuck him then!”

“Believe me, I’ve tried.” Jessie said with a laugh. You raised your eyebrows. “Okay, I haven’t really tried, Max has this rule about me fooling around with his frat brothers.” 

Max and Jessie were unseperable ever since freshman seminar, when Max came out as gay at an hc party and Jessie decided he was adorable and needed her protection. Since then, Jessie was a rock for Max, and no one, besides the juniors in hc, knew he was gay. Including his fraternity brothers. 

“Whatever, I’m not interested.” You said. 

“Y/N you truly are impossible sometimes. You’re never gonna get frat bingo until you get delt, and he’s a delt.” You sighed. After being roofied by a delt freshman year, you almost gave up on frat bingo. You would’ve been the first in your friend group to get it if you hadn’t given up on delt. Ally dropped out sophomore year, Isabelle fell behind when she got a boyfriend, and Emily was a bit behind you. 

She would never admit it, but Emily was a prude. To an extent, of course. She played the flirt so well people didn’t realize that she rarely slept with guys, and never guys she didn’t know. 

“Look I need some food. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jessie asked. You nodded, and immediately began texting your friends. 

♡girly girls♡

You

ok we have an issue

Al

What’s up?

You

well apparently tom told his frat brothers that he has a crush on me and doesnt want me to tutor him because hes “too attracted” to me

Em

holy

fucking

shit

he did not

Iz

i said from the start this was a bad idea. do you like him N/N?

You

i mean not really. hes not my type. 

Al

of course he isnt, hes not emotionally unavaliable and incredibly intelligent but incredibly problematic

You

w o w way to read me to filth al

Al

it had to happen

You

whatever its almost 915 so i better go

love u losers

You put down your phone, pulling out your political conflict textbooks and start reading. Soon, you were engrossed in the greek war of independence, completely forgetting where you were or what time it was. 

Books did that to you too often. In fact, it made you insecure. For so long you didn’t think you were as smart as the other hc kids, you were just a fast reader. Freshman year, when you really got close to the other hc kids, you realized that they were your people. You belonged. 

You glanced at your phone. 9:45. He was a half hour late. 

You debated texting him, but decided against it. You would wait for him to show up, tell him he broke a rule, block his number, email G, and move on. 

It took another ten minutes for him to show up. 

“Evening sweetheart,” he said as he stumbled into the hlab, which was now completely empty except for you. He sat across from you and started unzipping his backpack. 

“No need to unpack, this shouldn’t take long.” You said. He looked at you quizzically. “It’s two minutes before ten. You’re incredibly late, and my time is incredibly valuable. It’s also fairly obvious you’ve been drinking. I don’t have time for slobs who get drunk on a Monday and aren’t respectful to people who are giving up their time to help you.” 

You slung your bag over your shoulder and started to walk out. 

“Y/N, c’mon, you’re being dramatic. I promise I won't do it again.” He said from behind you. You stopped cold and turned slowly to face him, although he was still a good 10 feet away from you. 

“Did you just call me… dramatic?” 

“I’m sorry, darling, but you were-”

“Stop. Do not call me darling, and never, ever call a girl dramatic. I made myself crystal clear, both yesterday and today, you do not deserve my time, Tom Holland.”

“Y/N-” 

“I truly wish you all the best and I hope you’re able to graduate, despite having less brain cells than a cantaloupe.” You felt your words sting him, but you didn’t care. He was disrespectful, he deserved it, you told yourself. 

“Y/N.” He said, his voice cracking. He took a deep breath. “Please don’t leave. I’m sorry.” This was not what you were expecting from him. 

He sighed, sitting on his chair. You cautiously leaned against the table behind you, looking at a boy close to tears. 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for being late to our meeting, and I’m sorry for showing up drunk.” 

“Tell me why.” 

“I’m sorry?” He asked. 

“Tell me why you’re late and why you’re drunk and I’ll consider helping you.” He looked at the ground again. 

“Any chance I can get a shot first?” He jokingly said. 

“You are already pushing your luck, Holland, do you really want to make it worse?” 

“Fine, I’m sorry. I was late and drunk because I was embarrassed.” You raised your eyebrows. “To be honest, I knew who I was looking for yesterday. I hit on you to break the tension.” 

“Why were you embarrassed? And, wait, you knew who I was?” 

“I looked up your instagram before we met so I’d know who to look for, and I hit on you because I didn’t want you to help me.” 

“And why were you embarrassed?” He started playing with the cuff of his sleeve, still not looking at you. “Tom.” You said, getting him to finally look at you. 

“I was embarrassed because I’m flunking out of school and need a tutor, and my tutor asked me to meet in the most intense place on campus.”

“The hlab? Intense?”

“Y/N, you need to be, like, a genius to even be considered for this program. And here I am, a theater major who can’t even pass a class about the stars.” 

“Astronomy is about a lot more than stars, if you bothered to open your textbook, you’d know that.” He stared at you, and you noticed tears coming to his eyes. 

“I can’t be tutored. I can’t. I’ll figure something else out.” He hastily grabbed his backpack and prepared to walk out the door, but you grabbed his backpack, turning him around. 

“Stop. Open your backpack.” He looked at you, confused, but obliged, holding the backpack open in front of you. You looked through it, noticing five notebooks, and a folder. You pulled it out, riffled through, and saw a schedule along with five syllabi. You nodded and looked back at him. 

“The list?” You asked. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to you. It had the list of assignments you asked for. You nodded again. 

“You need to be making a list like this every friday for the upcoming week, got it?” He nodded and then zipped his backpack, turning back to the door. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked, your arms folded. 

“Home?” He asked. 

“Nope. Sit.” 

“You mean…?” “You were disrespectful. I will not forgive you for that, but as your tutor, it’s my job to help you, no matter how stupid you act. And to be clear, I was not calling your intelligence stupid. I was referring to the fact that you already broke a rule, and of course, the unspoken rule of not showing up to sessions drunk.” He slid into the seat across from you and pulled out notebooks and pencils as you analyzed the list. 

“Have you done any readings this week?” He shook his head. “When you’re in class, do you feel like the teacher is speaking another language and all the other students understand it but you?” “Yeah, how-”

“Look, Tom, I’m gonna share with you the biggest college hack there is. All lectures are is the professor talking about the reading and helping you to understand the material. You cannot possibly understand the lecture without doing the readings. Once you start reading, the lectures will make sense, even if you don’t understand the readings the first time you read them. Make sense?”

“Well, you said read a lot…” You raised your eyebrows. “No, no, that makes sense.”

“When you go to class this week, you need to be taking notes by hand. Statistically you’re much more likely to absorb the material that way, especially without the added distraction that is the internet.” He nodded. 

“Last but certainly not least, we cannot start our work until you’ve done the readings. So I will see you Friday evening for a session, we’ll review the material of that week making sure you understand it, you’ll complete your homework on Saturday, and we’ll meet again Sunday night to review the homework before you hand it in. If need be, we can meet for a weekday session.” 

He raised his eyebrows. 

“Don’t question my methods. You are one more C- away from being kicked out of college. You like it here? Don’t wanna go back to the freezing rain in London? You’ll listen to me.” You packed your bag and Tom started to follow suit. 

“Nope.” You said, placing a hand on the notebook he was about to put in his bag. “You’ll stay here and do your readings for the rest of the week. No matter how long it takes.” “But this is-” “Hlab? I’m aware, but I guess you haven’t noticed that literally no one is here. No one is going to be mad that you’re here. Just sit and read.” 

“Y/N?” He called as you walked towards the door. “I’m really sorry.” 

“I don’t like apologies, Tom. Stop apologizing, stop being embarrassed, and do better.” 

You returned to your room, lying on your bed and opening back up your textbook, but not before texting your friends. 

♡girly girls♡

You

just got back

Iz

howd it go???

You 

he showed up 45 minutes late, drunk 

Al

so where are we meeting to bury his dead body?

You

very funny, Al

Al

i wasnt joking. 

Em

wait he was drunk? on a monday? typical 

Iz

so i guess you wont be seeing him again? 

You were conflicted. You shared everything in your friends, but Tom was vulnerable with you and you didn’t want to betray his trust. 

You 

look we talked about it and he explained himself. im giving him one more chance.

Iz

seriously? im shook

You

whatever he made a good case

Em

i think you just wanna sleep with him

You

i dont i promise you thats the last thing i wanna do

Al

ive got 10 bucks they hook up before march 1st. anyone wanna take the over? 

Iz

ill take that action, Y/N is stubborn as hell

You

you guys are the absolute worst. see you for lunch xox

It wasn’t long before you dozed off. Your alarm woke you up the next morning, your textbook still lying across your chest. You already had a few texts from your friends. 

♡girly girls♡

Em

al i just saw that cute girl with the purple hair u like

Al

shut up em i dont like her

Iz

is she the one whose asm for romeo and juliet???

Em 

thats the one! 

Al

guys ! leave it, ok? shes straight

You

with that hair? i doubt it

You checked the rest of your messages, surprised to see a blue bubble next to Tom’s name. 

Tom Holland

hey sorry but i dont think this is gonna work, sorry for waisting your time, ill tell gronsky to find me another tutor

You were shocked, quickly sending a text message to your group chat. 

Em

i thought you said everything was gucci ?

You

i thought it was….

Iz

pls text him back 

You rolled your eyes, realizing Isabelle was right. 

You

Stop being ridiculous. you misspelled “wasting”. dont forget handwritten notes in class today. ill see you friday.

He responded almost immediately. 

Tom Holland

I wasnt dicking around. rlly. this isnt gonna work. i already emailed gronk.

You sent an updated screenshot to your group chat, rolling your eyes, right as an email alert popped up to the top of your screen. 

TO: y/[email protected]

FROM: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Thomas tutoring

Hi kiddo,

Not sure if this is a mistake but Thomas just emailed me saying you would no longer be tutoring him? I thought you would be a good match for him… Take the rest of the week, talk to him, if he still doesn’t want you as his tutor let me know by Friday so I can try to find someone new to tutor him. 

I know he can be challenging, but I’m sure you realize that’s exactly why I picked you. ;) (and also because no one else agreed to work with him)

G

You sighed. Of course. Typical G, giving you all the basket cases and expecting you to fix them. It was true, you never backed down from a challenge, but this one may not be for you. 

You looked at your phone and pulled out Tom’s schedule from your backpack. He was finished with statistics in a half hour, just enough time for you to get ready and go to the math and science building. 

You made it there with just a few minutes to spare. You stood outside the room, back against the wall, popping your bubble gum and waiting. The class let out, mostly sophomores giddily running off to lunch, obviously relieved to be done with class. 

Tom was one of the last ones to leave the classroom, and as soon as he saw you he rolled his eyes. 

“Hi Max,” you greeted Max who was walking next to him. 

“Y/N,” he said with a smile. 

“Are you TAing?” You asked, still completely ignoring Tom who was fidgeting in front of you.

“You know it.” 

“Mind if I steal Tom?” 

“No problem, see you at home dude,” he said and they did a stupid handshake. 

“Walk me to lunch.” You said and started to walk towards the door. “That wasn’t a question, Thomas.” You said when you saw that he wasn’t following you. He quickly caught up to you, but not before you overheard a groan. 

“Has anyone ever told you you are incredibly difficult?” He asked. You laughed, which surprised him. 

“That really doesn’t bother me.” 

“You can’t boss me around anymore, you’re not my tutor.” 

“See that’s where you’re wrong. I am your tutor, therefore I can boss you around.” 

“I fired you.” 

“Good thing I don’t work for you, then.” He sighed. 

“Y/N.” He said and stopped in the middle of the walkway. 

“Thomas.” You said in the same tone. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“A little bird who may or may not be Gronk told me that no one else would tutor you. So I am very sorry Mr. frat boy, but it looks like you’re stuck with me.” You turned and continued walking. 

“Seriously?” He said as he fell into step with you again. “Pity?” 

“Stop being difficult.” You said, smiling as you used his words against him. 

“Whatever. I’ll give you a week before you give up.” You laughed. 

“I don’t quit, Holland. I’m incredibly competitive and you will not win this fight.” He looked unhappy, but held the door to the dining hall for you. 

You approached your usual table, Tom following close behind. You turned to him before taking your usual seat. 

“I know you didn’t finish your readings last night. Go find a place to finish them. Take good notes. I’ll see you Friday at 4, if you’re late, there’s gonna be a problem.” He simply nodded and walked away, greeting some friends he knew in the cafeteria. 

You turned to your friends, all of whom were suspiciously quiet. 

“So…” Isabelle said, finally breaking the tension. “I guess you’re still tutoring him?” 

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #frat!tom #imagine

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

/1/ /2/ /3/ /4/ /5/ /6/ /7/ /8/ /9/ /10/ /11/ /12/ /13/ /14/ /15/ /16/ /17/ /18/ /19/ /20/ /21/ /22/ /23/ /24/ /25/ /26/ /27/ /28/ /29/ /30/ /31/ /32/ /33/ /34/ /35/

A/N: Please understand that this has been my vision for how karaoke night would unfold with this group forevveerrrrr so I’m excited we’re here. Nobody puts Bella in the corner mmkay? Oh and it gets a little suggestive so y’all know what we’re in for soon.

Chapter 36.

"So what about them?" Ben questions while we all witness Vinny and Bianca make their way to the karaoke microphones. "How long have they been together?"

"They're not," I tell him. "They just met tonight."

Ben gasps, eyes flying wider as he looks at us. "Shut up. I love that. I'm so glad this is happening."

We’ve stood up from our stools at this point, gathered behind our table for an optimum view.

Vinny receives his shot from the bartender, lifting it appreciatively to our table and tosses it back. Then he hands the empty glass off to the deejay and smacks his own chest with his palm as he gets the booze down.

Noble nudges my arm and chuckles in amusement. "Watch, watch."

The TV screens around the bar always display the upcoming song just before it starts and we glance up to see (I've Had) The Time Of My Life roll across the screen in fuzzy, bright purple text.

Vinny studies the monitor in front of him, furrows his brow, then looks out at us, confused.

The three of us all blow out a hard laugh while the rest of the bar is already excited, hooting appreciative cheers.

"Yes!" Bianca tips her head back and grasps Vinny's arm. "You know this one," we hear her assure him. "Dirty Dancing."

"Oh shit," he groans in realization.

"Look, the parts you sing are in green--" Bianca instructs, pointing to the screen. "Be ready, it starts quick."

Now I-- The song begins and Vinny glances around at the unexpected start and Bianca pushes against his shoulder to prompt him.

"... the time of my life--" He hesitates, edging closer to the microphone.

As soon as Vinny starts, Noble immediately hollers for him, clapping loud and triggering the crowd around us to scream out for the easily recognizable song.

"Oh my god." I mutter the words and my amazement keeps both my eyes and my mouth from closing while I watch.

Vinny cautiously sort of mumbles his initial part until Bianca joins in with hers. And when she does, the clear, airy melody actually starts to sound familiar.

Laughing at himself, Vinny drops his head and shakes it when the beat settles in. But it makes everyone around them cheer even more.

Bianca looks out, nodding at them as if to keep it coming for him. Then she goes to work during an instrumental measure, pops Vinny's microphone off the stand and hands it to him before lifting up the stand to move it out of the way. She does the same to her own mic, just in time to return to the screen and point to the new lyrics that roll in.

"This is you," she tells him.

"I've been waiting for so long… now I finally found someone to stand by me…" He tries to get the hang of the phrasing with only an instrumental track to back them.

When Bianca sings her part, it helps even out the tempo. She gestures to the screen again to alert him, "This is both of us--"

"Now with passion in our eyes, there's no way we could disguise it secretly…"

"Okay--" Vinny announces with a nod of confidence that’s starting to take hold the more everyone else around him cheers and joins in with the words. "I got it. I got it now."

"So we take each other's hand, 'cause we seem to understand the urgency…"

“Just remember!”

I smack my grip onto Noble’s arm and seeing this might seriously be how I die. “Holy. Shit, dude.” I’m struggling because I want to crack up but I’m too stunned watching and I can’t believe it’s happening. And Ben on the other side of Noble wailing “YESSS!” in appreciation makes it even funnier.

They fall more in sync as they build to the chorus and Vinny finally begins to relax next to Bianca.

“I’ve never seen a karaoke crowd like this,” Noble observes. “This is fucking hilarious.”

“I’d say we’re pretty rambunctious at our karaoke nights here in general,” Ben shouts over the music. “But this song always brings the house down and I’m loving them so much.”

I have to laugh at the guys gathered in front of Vinny and Bianca, singing along, dancing with one another and so into it.

Bianca starts off the second verse and encourages Vinny when it’s his turn. I’m amused every time he focuses intently on the monitor to follow the lyrics when he’s not entirely sure how to string the words together. And then parts will become more familiar to him, like he’s just saying fuck it and would rather deliver a good performance.

Ben wasn’t kidding about the song being a crowd favorite because when the chorus kicks in the second time, there’s literally a disco ball that lowers from the ceiling, casting colors all across the bar when the lights overhead go dark. The entire room erupts in this wild cheer and even though Vinny and Bianca have the mics, you can hear everyone like a collective chorus.

Because--

I’ve had the time of my life…

I finally notice I’ve been smiling all this time. This entire thing is funny and fucking joyful as hell and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything like it. I keep turning to drop my forehead onto Noble’s shoulder to laugh there against him and he does the same to me, gripping hard at my back and pulling me into a hug.

“Oh, my god,” he groans during the lively instrumental break and saxophone solo where everybody’s just dancing. “Dude, I’m fucking pissed this is happening,” he tells me. “He’s gonna win her over with this shit.”

“Oh, I think she’s winning him over,” I suppose. “But yeah, talk about lengths a guy will go to. He’s done it.”

“Yeah, I assure you she’s in love with him,” Noble decides. “Dammit.”

With a thoughtful tilt of my head, I peer out at the stage. “I’m kind of proud of him, though.”  Leaning my back against Noble’s chest, he keeps his arm draped over my shoulder. “I’d hyperventilate before I did something like this, so good for him.”

“How much shit are you gonna give him on Monday?”

“Dude, so much.” I chuckle. “I’ll never forget this for the rest of my life. I hope we’re partners forever and I can tell this story at his retirement party.”

Letting his head fall, Noble cracks up, his drunken laughter tickling the side of my neck. He pushes his face there, then he meets my cheek for a kiss.

Shifting in front of him, I turn my head and lean up to touch my lips to his. My hand grasping his face and into his hair, his grip trailing high along my side, I kiss him long enough to forget all that’s around us, for merely a still moment. Probably nothing to anyone else nearby, but for me it feels significant.

I've kissed him a hundred times but my heart's racing when I slip away. It takes me a second to notice it and I tilt toward him, nudging my head against the edge of his jaw to calm the flaring pulse I can feel between my ears.

Pressing my lips together to force some feeling there, I turn away after a quick, rough squeeze of Noble's hair in my fist. And I don't miss his throaty little grunt when I do. It doesn't matter how many other distractions surround us, he won't pass up a chance to react to a cursory hair tug.

Damn, it just sort of came over me how badly I need to go home with him. But I don't have to tell him when I meet his heavy gaze for a brief moment, then move away and reach for my drink when I remember what I'm supposed to be watching.

"Hey, you have to help me with something," Noble says. He follows in behind me and I feel his hands low on my hips. "Because I'm super horny and I might forget."

I nearly cough out my whiskey when I laugh and turn to face him once again with a narrowed gaze. "Oh yeah? A bar full of cute boys has got you super horny?”

“No.” He grins at me in the glittery darkness as I linger right there against his chest. “Just one. And he’s more fucking hot than cute,” he decides, before he dips his head so his mouth is at my ear. “And irresistible, and sexy as hell and god,” he groans. “I really wanna take him home and suck his dick right now. So forget cute, alright?”

Shit. I’m so buzzed and turned on and the weight of it, of my want for him, just tugs deep and hot inside me. Enough to make me chew on my own lip until I suppress the temptation. It’ll surface again, though, with a little more momentum. “Well damn." I smirk. "Don’t let me keep you from him."

With a nod to the front where Vinny and Bianca close out the last chorus, he proposes, “After this, let’s head out, yeah?”

“What am I supposed to help you with?” I remind him.

He gestures a finger up toward the microphones. "She can't go home with him. I don't know where this is all going to lead tonight. But if we turn our backs and her ass sneaks into a cab with him, I'm calling the cops."

I regard him thoughtfully. "Good plan. The cops'll totally get him."

“I mean it,” he laughs.

“You don’t trust Vinny?”

He lifts defensive shoulders. “I don’t trust… the situation just yet.”

While it’s a bit of a double standard -- Noble thought it was perfectly reasonable to run around with me in the city he’s supposed to avoid and yet he won’t let his sister out of his sight -- I understand.

And really I can’t determine whether Vinny and Bianca even have those intentions with one another. Right now they’re kind of jumping around on the stage while the music begins to fade out. And knowing him, he probably just wants to laugh the whole thing off, say his goodbyes before heading home for the night.

“Let’s hear it for Bella and Vinny!” The deejay announces to another adamant cheer from the crowd around the stage.

The two of them replace their microphones on the stands and deliver a bunch of high fives to everyone there. The idiotic pride I feel swells again and I can’t contain a smile when I clap hard for him as they return to the table.

“Good work, partner.” I laugh.

He slings an arm around me to pull me into a hug and I slap him hard on the back. “I found my true calling,” Vinny decides. “But seriously we’ve gotta get the fuck outta here soon.”

“No encore?” I question, reaching over as Bianca slides under my arm for a hug. I turn to her and pull her in. “Look at the magic you made happen with him.”

“I knew he could do it.” She shrugs.

“I don’t think we could top that.” He looks at her, his brows pulling together. “How many guys have you sung karaoke with?”

Bianca grins. “That’s a personal question.”

“But was I the best?”

She reaches out and pushes her palm flat against the center of his chest. Her head tips back with a laugh. “Oh my god.”

He smiles. “I just wanna know.”

“To be determined,” she gives her coy answer.

I glance over at Noble to see if he’s witnessing this and he shakes his head in disapproval.

“Alright, I’m gonna go settle my tab,” Vinny announces. “Be right back.”

Clearing my throat, I offer Noble a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder before I turn to follow Vinny to the bar. “Yeah, me too.”

#jamie x noble #look at all these idiots they're so cute hooray for every one of them

[shestillhasherquill]

One Thousand, Four Hundred and Forty Minutes

Here's my contribution for @csmarchmadness. Thanks @xemmaloveskillianx​ for giving me a chance to write this doctor's AU. It's purely based on my many years of watching Grey's Anatomy, and a little bit of help from Google. So the errors are on me, and my lack of adequate research. Also, I tried a different writing style - which is to be more funny and less, ugh, dramatic and angsty and I'm not entirely happy with the result. So don't hate on me.

Summary: A day in the life of Attendings Dr. Jones and Dr. Swan, as they navigate their upcoming parenthood, their patients and their past.

Words: ~11.5K

Warnings: Mentions of past Alcoholism, Minor Character Death, my writing

AO3/FF.net

“Are you sure you want to start work again, love?” Killian meets Emma’s eyes in the mirror as he fiddles with his tie. She is sitting on their bed in her bra and her work pants, on but unbuttoned, the very picture of sexy and lazy, her now empty cereal bowl on the bed next to her.

Emma smiles at him, hoping that she looks reassuring. She knows where his concern is coming from, but there’s only so long she can stay in bed. “I have patients who need me. I’ve taken a week off already, because you and Ruby tag-teamed against me. But babe, I can’t watch another true crime documentary. I’m going stir crazy. ” Her eyes widen to emphasise her point, making Killian huff, his expression twisting into faux-sympathy, brows drawn together, and lips in an exaggerated pout. She walks up to him, turning him to face her and removing his tie. “Go without the tie. The open collar look is so in,” she teases, her blunted nails scratching his chest hair. “I also watched a lot of Project Runway,” she adds, almost as if she was talking to herself.

Killian waggles his eyebrows at her, throwing his tie on the bed absentmindedly and reaching for her wasit, pulling her closer to him. “Maybe we should play hookey and stay in today. No shirts, no ties. You can see more than just my collarbone, Swan,” he quips, sliding his lips down her neck. Emma’s breath hitches and the offer is incredibly tempting - they could just say screw it and stay in bed - but she has been stuck at home the past week, and she really does have patients to get back to. There is only so much she can push on to Blanchard’s service. It takes all her will power to push away from him. “Oh, Dr. Jones, I am not so easily seduced,” she chides, pressing a quick, apologetic kiss to his lips.

She twists out of his arms, shrugging on a floral shirt over her bra, buttoning it up swiftly. It takes a while, but she gets her pants buttoned as well, grinning up at Killian, feeling accomplished that she could still fit into her pants. But his earlier playfulness is once again replaced with concern, and he is not quick enough to school his expression. She lets out a soft sigh. “I am okay, Killian. I promise.” She holds her hand out to him, waiting patiently until he grabs them before pulling him closer. She rests her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist, trying to hug his anxiety away.

He lets loose a long breath, the tension in his shoulders leaving as he relaxes against her. “I can’t help it, Swan. Watching you collapse like that-” he cuts himself off and closes his eyes, trying to push away the bad memory. “I never want to see you like that again, love,” he murmurs against her hair. He pulls back, one hand cupping her cheek and the other resting on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles. He looks like he wants to say more, but chooses to hold himself back, trying to smile reassuringly at her.

Emma is not so easily fooled though. She can tell that there’s more to his worry than he is letting on; she can’t push him, knowing that it will just make him retreat further back. Emma cups his cheeks, trying to communicate all her love and understanding through her smile, and hopes that that is enough.

She worries about him too; he carries so much responsibility on his shoulders, it weighs him down when anything goes wrong. She worries when he forgets to take care of himself, because that leads down a very steep path. She worries that sometimes he focuses too much on protecting her, that he forgets that he needs protecting too. “Look, you need to stop worrying so much. It was just low blood sugar. I’m fine, baby’s fine. We both got a week off, and we’re good.”

Killian pulls in a shuddering breath, his hand coming to rest on her belly. She knows that he can feel the slight hardness to her abdomen, feel the smallest of curves there. His thumb rubs lightly against the curve, sending a rush of emotions through her, overwhelming her with how much she loves this man, and this baby that is theirs. “You promise to take it easy?” he murmurs, resting his forehead against her.

“I promise.” She nuzzles his nose, drawing a smile from his, almost despite himself. “There’s that handsome smile. Let’s go, Dr. Jones, we have lives to save.” In retrospect, she wishes she had taken a moment then, to see his smile fall the moment her back was turned, and his jaw clench tightly.

-/-

“Hey! You’re back!” Mary Margaret cries out the moment Emma and Killian walk - hand-in-hand - into the attendings lounge. Which just draws everyone’s attention to Emma, making her flush, brushing her hair away from her face self-consciously.

Mary Margaret Blanchard, her best friend since internship, when they were green as the grass and chanting carido, let’s go, is also extremely over dramatic sometimes.

“I was gone for a week. God.” Emma rolled her eyes, dropping her husband’s hand and going to hang up her jacket and grabbing her white coat.

“It doesn’t matter.” Mary Margaret pulls Emma into a quick hug, squeezing her tight. “I’m just glad you and the little duck are okay.” Emma meets Killian’s gaze, glaring as he stifled a laugh.

Little duck? she mouths at him, and he simply shrugs, dropping off his own jacket.

“I’m fine, B,” Emma murmurs, letting Mary Margaret get her fill of the hug.

Mary Margaret nods. She pulls back, suddenly excited as she bounces on the balls of her feet, her eyes glinting as she waves the iPad she was holding in Emma’s face. “You’re back just in time. Marco is on his way in. For his surgery.”

Emma’s eyes widen, her hands grabbing the tablet from Mary Margaret’s hands, scrolling through the patient file, just to make sure they are both talking about the same person.“What? No way.” She grins so wide, she can feel her cheeks twinge. “We got a heart?”

“We got a heart, baby! UNOS called this morning,” Mary Margaret confirms, her grin just as wide. “You think you’re ready for the surgery?”

Emma scoffs, grabbing the device. “Like I’m going to say no. I should call August.” She turns to Killian, shouting a nonsensical, We got a fucking heart!, stealing a quick kiss and rushes out the room, heedless to Killian’s call for her to be careful, Swan!

-/-

He chuckles at her retreating form, sharing an amused glance with Robin, who was lounging on the couch, a cup on coffee in hand.

“She seems to be doing fine.” Robin raises his eyebrows at Killian, when he doesn’t reply immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Killian shakes his head dismissively. “She says she’s fine.”

“And the baby?”

“Baby, too. Or so she says.”

“What, you don’t believe her? She is a doctor, you know,” Robin comments, getting up to rinse his mug.

“And yet, she didn’t realise she was having low blood sugar? Or that she was pregnant?” Killian signs, hating the bitter edge to his voice.

“You know how busy we get, Jones. She finished her fellowship year only a couple of years ago, she needs to put in the hours still. It probably just slipped her mind.”

Killian shoots him an incredulous look. Robin shrugs helplessly, patting him in an effort to cheer him up. “C’mon, Jones. Emma can take care of herself.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

Killian shakes his head, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah, mate. I know.” Killian grabs his own white coat, shrugging it on.

“Jones?”

“Yes, Locksley?”

“Listen, I know the last week was hard on you-”

Killian feels his breath catch, his heart in his throat. He feels the rage course through his blood, just thinking about it. “Don’t,” he growled. He can feel the darkness at the ebbs of his consciousness, and it must show, because Robin takes a step back. “I- I don’t want to talk about it, mate.”

“Killian.” Robin’s tone is almost a reprimand, and Killian isn’t ready to hear any of it.

“We all lose patients, mate. It happens. I’m fine.” The word tastes like the bitter lie it was. He is so far removed from fine, but he has a handle on it. He doesn’t need coddling.

-/-

“I really am fine.” Emma rolls her eyes, insisting for the third time in the past half hour, leaning against the nurse station’s desk, fiddling with her iPad, checking up on the cases she had left in Mary Margaret’s care.

“How was your staycation?” Mary Margaret asks, resting her arms on the counter.

“Ugh, so boring. Killian has been coming home late, like, all of last week.”

“Huh.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?”

“You just said ‘Huh’ like you’re surprised that he came home late.” Emma’s gut clenches at the uncertainty on Mary Margaret’s face. “Blanchard, what’s going on? Did Killian say something?”

Mary Margaret bites down on her lip, her gaze lowering to her hands. “B, c’mon,” Emma implores, slipping into the nickname. Her tone is softer, the worry clear as day. “Tell me.”

“He didn’t tell you?” Emma apprehension multiplies tenfold by the undercurrent of concern in Mary Margaret’s tone, shaking her head ‘no’. “Emma, he lost a patient on monday. Ava Turner.”

Emma is pretty sure she gasps, or something that was pretty close to it, her hand covering her mouth. “What? I saw Ava here two months ago for her check-up. She was fine,” her voice cracks on the word fine, and with it her heart.

Mary Margaret’s expression turns somber, and almost something like regret in her eyes, that she is the one who has to tell  Emma. “It wasn’t her heart, Emma. She got into a car accident.”

Emma stop listening the moment she hears that, her throat suddenly too tight. She has known Ava since her second year of residency; Dr. French might have been her surgeon, but it was a pediatric case; she had been Killian’s patient, for years. “He never said a word to me,” Emma whispers, unsure whether she should feel guilty or angry.

“Maybe he thought you had enough to worry about,” Mary Margaret tries to explain, but it sounded flat even to her, Emma can tell, by the uneasy expression on her friend’s face.

She needs to see Killian. Ava Turner wasn’t just any other patient, at least not to Killian.

-/-

Regina stops her on her way to the pediatrics floor, almost surprised to see her. “Dr. Swan! I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Regina comments with a pleasant smile.

“Chief Mills,” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Yep, I’m back. I’m pregnant, not invalid,” she rolls her eyes, feeling a twinge of impatience. “In fact, I’m scrubbing in with Dr. Blanchard on Marco’s heart transplant.” And in that moment, despite her worry and anxiety and just straight up need to see her husband, she can’t keep the smile off her face at the mention of Marco’s surgery. “Finally,” she adds, just for effect.

“Good for him.” Regina pauses, as if contemplating her next words. “Is Jones in today?”

“Yeah. I’m on my way to see him now. Why?”

“I just assumed he’d want to take a couple of days off, is all. After what happened with Ava Turner.”

“Okay, what happened with Ava? Killian is fine at home. I don’t know what everyone is worried about?” Emma’s worry only increases. Is she not paying attention to her husband? Did she not notice that he was in pain?

Regina stares at her for a moment, before she purses her lips. “I think you ought to talk to him about it. All I know is he has been passing on surgeries for the past week, so I told him to take some time off. Our patients come to us for the best care, and we can’t be turning away cases. Not right now, with Dr. Weaver here to evaluate us.” She rolls her eyes when she mentions Dr. Weaver.

“Dr. Weaver? Who- How long was I gone?”

Regina smirks. “Oh, you’ll meet him soon enough. He’s here courtesy of my mother, who seems to think our standards of teaching need to improve.”

Emma huffs out a laugh at Regina’s dry tone. “Well, she does own this place,” she retorts. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Chief… I should find my husband.”

-/-

Killian has been hiding away in one of the fourth floor research rooms, trying to work on his paper. Or... maybe he should accept it for the excuse that it is, to hide away from the rest of the hospital, hoping that no one would disturb him. He has sent his resident to do his rounds on the post-op patients, knowing that Dr. Jain can hold her own. He isn’t able to bring himself to operate; he can’t bring himself to get back in the OR.

Ava had come to him when she was five years old, with a rare and complex CHD, transferred over from another hospital. She fought like hell every single day for five years, undergoing multiple surgeries, always greeting him with a big smile no matter what. Three times she almost got a new heart and three times, it fell through. It was heartbreaking for her family to see their daughter in so much pain. There were days when it was touch-and-go for Ava. No matter how many surgeries they had performed, she needed a new heart. And with her rare blood type, it took ages. After years on the list, she was finally matched with a donor, and her transplant had been successful.

She lived to see sixteen, to go to high school. To learn how to drive and to get a license. And then she got into a fucking automobile accident. Both he and Dr. French tried their best to stabilize her but the damage that was done was too much, and she bled out on the table.

He has come to accept that death was a part of his job, but that never makes it any easier to lose a kid. He has worked with tiny humans his whole career, and he knows it is hard to not form a connection with them. But Ava had been special - it astounds him even now how she never seemed to lose faith. She might have had her own moments of weakness, but she never failed to bounce back.

Killian runs his hands through his hair, his eyes closed trying to push the images of Ava bleeding out from his mind. A knock saves him from the torment, his eyes flying open.

“Hey.” Emma lingers at the door, her smile something soft. She was like the sun to all his rainy days, worming her way past the numbness that has settled over his heart. God, that was awful and cheesy.

“Hey, love.” He smiles at her, his lips pulling up automatically the moment he sees her. But even that feels exhausting. He is trying really hard to keep a calm facade around his wife, but it isn’t easy when they always share everything - the good and the bad. But Ruby had been very clear - this was a high risk pregnancy as it is for Emma, she does not need any undue stress. She doesn’t need his problems on top of everything else.

She pulls up a chair next to him, grabbing the arms of his own and pulling herself close until their knees are bumping against each other. She has a crease between her brows as she frowns at him, her head tilted to one side as if she was trying to read his mind. When he doesn’t relent to her questioning gaze, she lets out a small sigh.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Ava Turner?” Her words come out in a barely audible whisper. The room suddenly feels like all the oxygen got sucked out of it. She isn’t supposed to know this, he never wanted her to.

He curses under his breath. “Freaking Blanchard.”

“Hey, don’t blame her. Mills told me, too. I would have found out eventually.” She drags his hands into her own, squeezing them gently. “The question is why weren’t you the one to tell me?”

“What’s there to tell, love? I lost a patient. It happens.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t believe you, babe.” Emma shrugs, dismissing his words easily. “I might not have noticed your pain, but I can still tell when someone’s lying to me. And you, Dr. Jones, are a big fat liar.” She says all this sotto voce, not even a hint of anger or hurt.

He clenches his jaw tight, his throat burning something fierce with unexpressed pain. “What of it?” he snaps instead of confiding with his love. He could have told her how much his heart aches with regret from not being able to save Ava. From fear for her and their child, for her health and her safety. He could have told her how fragile his hold on hope is right now. He could have told her that he so desperately wants a drink right now, so much so that he can practically taste the burn and the spice from the rum; that he could give a flying fuck about five years of sobriety, four of which he has spent with her. Instead, he snaps at her and she recoils, her walls threatening to fly up.

“Nope,” she grits out. “You’re not pushing me away, Killian.”

Killian refuses to burden her with his problems. She doesn’t deserve this mess, not before and most definitely not now. “Swan, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“How can I not? You’re keeping things from me, you’re refusing to confide in me - your wife. You’ve been so worried about me this past week, baby. Let me worry about you, too,” she whispers, getting up from her chair and maneuvering herself into his lap. She cards her fingers through his hard, her touch soothing and making him close his eyes on a sigh.

Just as he prepares himself to bare his soul to her, Emma’s beeper goes off.  She curses under her breath, grabbing it and cursing even more.

“911 from Blanchard, I need to go,” she says on a sigh, sounding apologetic. “Killian-”

“Go on, love. I’m fine.”

She raises her brows at him, in no way or form believing him. “I’ll be fine, Swan. Go, save lives and such.

She searches his gaze for something, he wasn’t sure what. But she mustn’t have found it, by the way her face fell.

“I don’t need to be at the surgery, Killian. Blanchard can handle it,” she whispers, carding her fingers through his hair again, Blanchard’s 911 all but forgotten it seems. “I want to be there for you.”

Killian hums, pressing his forehead to her shoulders, breathing in deeply. The smell of her deodorant, clean and something mildly floral, calming him with its familiarity. “As much as I appreciate it, Marco has been waiting for that heart forever. You need to be there. August would want you there.”

Emma bites down on her lip, still uncertain. But a moment later, she nods. “Fine. I’ll go. But we will continue this conversation!” She points a finger at him. She gets off his lap, walking backwards and making his gut clench because his wife the clumsiest person when she can see where she’s walking. “Don’t think we aren’t going to circle back to this!”

And then she thankfully turns around and walks away, her parting words lingering in the air. He breathes in deeply, the scent of her deodorant still sticking to him, and gets back to working on his research - for real this time.

-/-

Killian’s day doesn’t get any better after Emma’s brief - but welcome - visit. If he was being honest with himself, in a way that he ought to be with Emma, this is about more than just Ava, or even about Emma’s pregnancy. For eight years, he was under the impression that he had a better handle on his alcoholism - but all it takes is one small misstep to send him back to day 1. The more he tries to hold on to his sobriety, the more he wants to have a drink. He has always been weak, he just got over-confident over the years, thinking he is a survivor, that he is stronger than his disease. But he isn’t.

He really needs a drink.

He opens his desk drawer, pulls out his old flask. He never threw it away, said that he kept it as a reminder of his failures. But that was never the case, was it? A part of him always knew he wasn’t strong enough to resist temptation. He runs his thumb over the engraving on the front - Milah had bought it for him at an antiques shop, back when she had still been alive and thriving. When they had just been interns, starting out in a world yet unknown to them. She had always been embarrassed about how much older she was than the rest of the class, a 40-year-old divorcee, just starting out as a doctor after years of being a nurse and putting herself through medical school. She was wild and something fierce; she had made him come out of his shell. Losing her had shattered him, and for years he had given up on love. He had given up on plenty of things, if he was being honest.

And if it had not been for Belle and her unwavering support, he would have been sacked from his job a long time ago. A high functioning alcoholic, that’s what they called him at his intervention. It took them five years after Milah’s passing to notice the signs, and a year or thereabouts after to approach him about it. In fact, it had been Emma who had brought it up first. She was scrubbing with him on a surgery, and just before they were about to go in, she turned to him, her eyes sharp and boring into his.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Jones, but I can’t let you in there.”

“Pardon me?”

“I said I can’t let you in there.”

“Dr. Swan, I know that this is your first solo surgery, but I am still your attending,” he growls, furious at the audacity.

“You might be my attending, but Mikey is my patient and I will not put his life at risk.”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

She moves closer to him, almost toe-to-toe. Her words come out in an icy whisper, “You might think you’re hiding it well, under layers of cologne and mouthwash, but I know an alcoholic when I see one, Dr. Jones.”

He bristles. How dare she? “Dr. Swan, you are out of bounds-”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “You can reprimand me all you want - after the surgery,” she says firmly, and walks away, pushing the door to the OR open and leaving him speechless, shame and fury churning in his gut.

He had been tempted to write her up for insubordination, but what could he possibly say? That she had called him out for being an alcoholic? Because that would have gone well with the suits and the chief.

He started noticing the signs then, started trying to hide it. But once Emma said something, it felt like all eyes were on him. He couldn’t do his job anymore, and when Belle, Robin, Regina and David confronted him about it - he did not argue. He went to rehab, he worked the program, he accepted his suspension for what it was, and thanked God that he did not get his medical license revoked.

He had never been drunk while he was performing surgery; Emma had been wrong to think that. But if he had kept going on that path, it might have gotten to that stage. He owed her...everything.

She was on his service his first day back. It felt like some of kind of karmic justice.

“Dr. Swan, do you have a moment?” he asks, as they are both exiting the patient’s room after morning rounds.

She seems to stop short at that, clearly hesitant. “Of course, Dr. Jones.”

He tries to smile, building up the courage to tell her what he wants to. “I- uh. A few months ago, you confronted me about some- about my drinking problem. I just wanted to thank you. I’m working the program, you know, doing the steps and what-not. I would never- I’ve never operated drunk. I would never put a child’s life in danger.”

Swan remains quiet, waiting for him to continue. Her expression reveals nothing; she’s still as a stone, and closed off.

He clears his throat. “I wanted to thank you, for saying something. For confronting me.”

Swan stares at him, the silence between them stretching on for longer than he would like. He resist the urge to scratch behind his ear, knowing that would be an obvious tell about how nervous he is.

She nods, finally, a slight flush to her cheeks. “I’m glad you got the help you needed, Dr. Jones.”

He watches her walk away, and some part of him wanted to go after her. To fall in line, to get to know this resident who leaves him wanting to know more.

Over the years, he did find out more about Dr. Swan. He learnt that she was David Nolan’s younger sister, having changed her name so it did not seem like she got to where she was through anything else but her hard work. Especially, not her father, Dr. Robert Nolan’s influence in the medical community.

He learnt that she practically drowns her hot chocolate in whipped cream, adds just a sprinkling of cinnamon on top. He learnt that she has a good heart, even if she does guard it with iron walls and barbed wire.

He learnt that he could love again - because it was impossible not to fall in love with Emma Swan. She changed the narrative; she challenged him, she supported him. She was just a breath of fresh air.

It’s all these reasons why he has to stay sober now - for her. He does not want to put her through that, especially when she already has a lot on her plate.

He is pulled from his stream of consciousness by the incessant noise from his beeper, making him growl in annoyance. He is not taking any cases, and he has made that very clear to everyone, including the chief.

But when he sees the message from Blanchard, he’s on his feet and out the door in record time.

It’s Emma. OR 2. Hurry.

-/-

It had just been a routine heart transplant. Everything was going fine. They had been discussing Mary Margaret and David’s upcoming nuptials, joking about how much Emma intended to embarrass David with her speech.

The transplant went fine, and then it wasn’t.

The heart doesn’t start pumping, it does not pink up. Mary Margaret tries shocking it again, at a higher voltage.

Nothing.

She tries again, and again there’s nothing. The heart rate monitor shows just a flat line.

“Let me try massaging the heart,” Emma says.

“Emma, I don’t think-”

“It will, B. Hold on.”

Twenty minutes later, Emma is still trying to get the heart pumping. She can’t let Marco die - this is her best friend’s dad. August didn’t reach the hospital before they took Marco into surgery; he barely got to talk to his father on the phone. The last thing Emma said to him was to come and see his dad once he’s got a new heart.

God, she can’t let Marco die.

The only thing Emma can hear is the rush in her ears. The only thing that matters is to get Marco’s heart beating again. She just has to keep massaging it until it can work on its own. She doesn’t hear Mary Margaret’s voice, telling her to stop. She doesn’t hear her husband’s voice, doesn’t even realise that he is in the OR. She doesn’t feel the arms wrap around her, but she feels it when it makes her hands pull away from Marco’s chest cavity.

“NO! Stop it!”

“Swan, love. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

But she doesn’t register anything Killian says, pushing at the arms wrapped around her waist.

“Emma!” he snaps, pulling her around to face him. His hands cup her cheeks, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Swan, it’s over.”

“No, Killian. He was fine, the heart-” She bites down on her lip behind her mask. She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“Dr. Swan, do you want to call time of death?” Mary Margaret asks her, a warble to her voice.

Emma swallows past the lump in her throat. She nods, pushing away from Killian and turning to face Mary Margaret. “Time of death: sixteen-oh-four,” she announces clinically, keeping a firm lid on her feelings.

She can feel her heart break, but she can’t let it show. Any more than she already has, at least.

“Swan, come on, love. Let’s get out of here.”

She shakes her head. “No, I need to tell the family. I need to talk to August.” Her voice is still restrained - a facade of professional indifference.

“Love, you don’t have to,” Killian inists. She bristled at his placating tone.

“I am a doctor. I do not need you to baby me. I can handle this.” She pushes past him, taking off her gown and gloves, stuffing it in the disposal. She looks past him at Mary Margaret, feeling enraged that she told her husband. “Dr. Blanchard, I’m guessing you can close?” She doesn’t wait for a reply.

She is halfway down the hall when Killian catches up with her, pulling on her arm and forcing her to stop.

“Swan, stop. I am not babying you.”

She turns around, pulling away from his grasp, her arms crossed across her chest. “Right. Sure you’re not,” she says wryly.

“Can you blame me for being concerned?” he snaps back.

“This is not about you being concerned. This is about you being so overprotective. It’s like you think I don’t know how to take care of myself. You have my friends keeping tabs on me, letting you know every time I so much as blink too much, Killian! What - do you think I don’t care about this baby as much as you do?”

He looks stricken, but Emma can’t seem to bring herself to feel bad. “Of course I don’t think that,” he whispers, and Emma can hear his voice crack.

Emma sighs, taking off her scrub cap and bunching it in her hands. “I need to go and see if August is here, Killian.”

She can tell he wants to say more, he wants them to talk. But she doesn’t have the patience for it. If there are going to fight, they can do so at home.

“Yeah, I understand, Swan. I- I’m so sorry about Marco. I know how much he meant to you.”

She nods stiffly, which makes his shoulders sag in defeat. He looks dejected, and she might be frustrated with him - hell, she is enraged, if she is being honest. He is being an overprotective idiot-man, but he is her overprotective idiot-man.

She reaches for his hand, squeezing briefly. “I’ll come see you after?”

“Sure, Swan,” he smiles tightly. She frowns, knowing that whatever he is going through, it’s just been exacerbated by this weird tension between them.

“Babe…”

“Go, love. We’re good.” He leans in to press a kiss to her cheek, his lips barely grazing her skin. He moves away before she can react or reciprocate, and is halfway down the corridor. Her eyes burn with tears, her throat tight. Everything was fine this morning - or so she thought.

Now, she has to inform her best friend that she couldn’t save his father. And her husband is keeping secrets from her.

She resists the urge to kick something, scrubbing her hand over her face, the braids she put her hair in starting to become painful, only adding to her headache.

She takes a moment to catch her breath, and prepare herself, before she walks into the waiting room. She prays that she doesn’t see August, just so she can have some time before she has to break the news to him. But she spots him the moment she enters the room, pacing restlessly, his jacket discarded next to his helmet on a seat nearby.

He looks different now, with a full beard and long-ish hair. More hardened after years on the road. God, she can’t tell him. She can’t, she can’t, she-

“Emma!” he calls out to her before she can actually run away. August is in front of her in three strides, faster than she anticipates. “How did the surgery go? When can I go see dad?”

Emma hopes that she looks more composed than she feels, because right now all she wants to do is cry. She’s known Marco since she was a kid, running away from home and just wanting to take a break. He’s one of the best people she knows...knew.

Marco’s house had been a sanctuary for Emma, ever since she was five years old. He lived right next door, and he had a son Emma’s age. August has been by her side through everything. It was not easy growing up as Robert Nolan’s daughter: there were always expectations. Her father was not cruel, but he had standards of behaviour that his children had to meet. They had to pick a path, and they were not allowed to deviate from it. Ever.

Robert  had been an imposing man, a hard to please man. But he never hesitated to do everything he could to get his children where they needed to go. But growing up without a mother, with just Robert’s often times overbearing nature - Emma needed the respite that Marco’s home provided. And August is the only person who understood her for a very long time. He is practically another brother to her.

“August,” she began on a stutter. “There was a complication during surgery-”

“No,” he breaths out, stepping back from her almost unconsciously.

She wants to stop. She can’t say it. She tries to make herself stop, but the words keep coming. “-we tried everything we could. But, your father- Marco died in surgery, August. I’m so sorry.”

She’s seen enough trauma come through in her life, and she remembers this one time a man came in with his entrails practically spilling out. She would never forget the look on that man’s face - that’s how she feels right now. She feels gutted, having to watch helplessly as August breaks down.

Over all these years of being a doctor, sensitivity training included having to tell the family of the patient’s demise. She’s seen a myriad of reactions - some people go right into denial, some people react in anger. Most of them break down crying, heaving breaths and ugly sobs, as if their bodies were not able to comprehend their loss, that the heartache was too much and it just spills over. She’s not a monster, she could never become immune to this. But she’s been trained to not react in the face of such utter devastation of the human spirit. She is the daughter of Robert Nolan; she ought to be made of sterner stuff.

All she wanted to do was break down with August, to mourn the man who was like a second father to her. It was supposed to be a routine fucking surgery.

August manages to compose himself long enough to ask her what happened.

“The surgery went fine, but the heart just did not take. I- I’m so sorry for your loss, August. There was nothing more we could do.”

She is hardly in control of what she is saying; half of what she says are rehearsed lines. Never tell anyone it’s your fault; tell them you’re sorry. Use the word: tell them their loved one died. Be firm, but compassionate. Be direct. Make sure you let them know you did everything you could. God, she wants to throw protocol out the window.

“I thought you said it was a routine procedure, Em!” he yells. Emma closes her eyes for a moment, pushing the guilt down, maintaining her composure.

She opens her eyes, forcing them to meet August’s. She can see the grief and anger swirling in their glass blue depths. Fuck.

“It was, Gus. It was; but there are always risks involved with surgery, especially at an older age.”

“This is my dad, Emma! I trusted you,” he hisses, his fists clenched at his side. “You said he would be fine.”

“Gus, I- I don’t-” She has no idea what she can say right now. She fucked up. She never should have said that. He was just upset that he couldn’t be there before they took Marco in for surgery, and she wanted to reassure him.

August lets out a deep breath, his tense shoulders dropping with the exhale. “It’s- it’s my dad, Em,” he murmurs, shuffling his feet and running his hand through his too long hair.

“I know, August.” She squeezes his bicep, offering him the only comfort she can give him.

-/-

It takes over an hour before Killian sees his wife again. She slinks into the research room, freshly showered and changed, wearing a sweater instead of the shirt she had on this morning. She closes the door, pressing her back against it and resting her head on it, her eyes falling shut.

He is out of his seat before her legs start wobbling, and he catches her as she collapses against him, her hands clasping the lapels of his coat in a white-knuckled grip.

“Swan!”

She manages to stay upright, but barely, half clinging to him. He can see the blotchy red spots on her cheeks and the redness in her eyes when she opens them. He can see her eyes begin to water again, but she keeps them at bay, stubbornly refusing to shed them.

“I-I’m fine,” she says, finally. The first words she’s said to him in hours, and despite the grief that tinges her words, he can tell that she means them.

He nods jerkily, unwilling to relinquish his hold on her, instead, guiding her to sit on the chair he had abandoned. She almost groans in relief, her shoulders shagging and head dropping over the back of the chair. He resists the urge to ask her how long she’s been standing on her feet.

He takes a seat on another chair, pulling it to settle facing her, knees bumping hers. “How is August?”

“Not good,” she mumbles, her eyes fixated on a point on the ceiling. “I don’t know- I didn’t know what to say.”

He can see her struggling not to cry, and it breaks his heart. It makes his worry sky rocket, too. But before he can say anything, she speaks, her gaze trained on the ceiling still.

“I’m sorry, Killian.”

Killian startles at that, his spine ramrod straight. What could she possibly apologise for?

“Swan, you have nothing to apologise for, love.”

Emma clears her throat, brushing at the few tears that have fallen, looking at him right in the eyes. “I’m sorry I snapped. I know you don’t think me incapable.”

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face, the exhaustion setting in. “Yeah, you’re right, I don’t.” He hesitates, before he adds. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you are.”

She lets out a watery chuckle, pulling at the sleeves of her sweater, so they hang over her hand, covering them entirely. He hates it when she does that, stretching out the knit, but he will hate it more if she stops. It’s quirks like these that he loves about his wife.

“We’re just on an apology train today, aren’t we?”

“All aboard the self-pity express,” he adds, with a half smile, drawing a chuckle out of her.

She gets off her seat, easing herself into his lap with a dramatic sigh. She places her head on his shoulder, snuggling into him when he wraps his arms around her. Neither of them speak for a long while, the silence that envelops them comforting and one that they are quite familiar with.

“Killian…”

“Yes, darling.”

He feels her take a deep breath, and he knows immediately what she’s about to ask. “Why didn’t you tell me about Ava Turner?”

“Emma, it’s not important.”

-/-

Any other time, Emma would have exploded. She would have argued, or yelled. She would have raised her voice; angry that her husband is pretending to be so cavalier. But she is so tired - she can feel the bone deep exhaustion as it threatens to overwhelm her. She can feel the knots in her neck just as much as the metaphorical ones in her gut, telling her that something more was going on with her husband, something she ought to have noticed a while back. So, she doesn’t yell or even raise her voice. She tamps down on the urge to cry - it seems like every small thing is making her cry nowadays, and it’s already been an emotionally draining day.

She hums low in her throat, pressing her nose to Killian’s neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne. “Of course it is,” she whispers fiercely. “I have had people come up to me and express concern for you - my husband. I had no idea you were even- I know you’re worried about me, but that doesn’t mean you should keep things from me. Please, baby. Talk to me?”

She pauses, knowing that Killian needs a moment. He will talk, she knows he will. She feels his grip on her tighten for a moment before he deflated completely. “I- I tried everything to save her, Swan. She bled out on the table and I couldn’t stop it. She was lucid, when she came into the ER. She was talking to me, and she was just- Fucking dammit,” he cuts himself off, his jaw clenching as tears rapidly filled his eyes.

Emma shifts in his lap, reaching for his clenched fists and clasping them between her hands, her thumb brushing against his tight knuckles.

“She just turned sixteen, Emma. She was just a kid, and she was finally having a normal life. Her life slipped right out of my hands, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Baby, you did everything you could.”

“You don’t know that, Swan. You weren’t here,” he argued, the anger in his voice scaring her. Not because it is directed at her, but because he seems more angry at himself.

“I know you. I know you would have tried everything.” When he does not say anything in response, and when he doesn’t meet her eyes, she makes him, gently turning him by his chin toward her. “I know you cared for her a lot. She is not just any other patient. You know as well as I do, sometimes there really isn’t anything we can do. Today is an example of just that.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Swan. Just drop it.”

“But-”

“Bloody fuck, Swan. I said drop it!” he yells, startling her out of his lap and on to her feet. He immediately looks guilty for the outburst, getting up and reaching for her, buts Emma steps back, almost involuntarily, her eyes wide and mouth agape, stunned.

“Darling, I- I’m sorry.”

Emma stuffs her hands in her jacket pocket so he doesn't see them tremble. She is not scared of her husband, but she knows what’s happening with him now. This is - God, this is about so much more than Ava Turner. “No, no, you’re right. I should have dropped it.”

She starts gathering her things, and she can feel his guilt radiate off of him. She wants to go to him, comfort him. But she can’t - her own fear and guilt are eating her up alive. She just- she feel a heavy weight on her heart, and she needs a moment.

“What’re you- where are you going?” he asks, a desperation to his tone and she is certain that she’s being split into two.

“I’m going home, Killian,” she says on a deep sigh. God fucking dammit, she is exhausted.

He shuffles where he stands, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Both of them stare at each other, neither finding the right words.

“Should I - Can I come home?”

Emma is pretty sure that her heart is in pieces now. God, he looks so lost. It breaks her, and she drops her stuff, reaching him in two strides and throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him to her.

“Always,” she whispers, against his shoulder. “You can always come home.” She pulls back, her hands coming up to delicately frame his face, swiping at the wetness under his eyes. “Killian, just tell me. I know you’re not telling me something. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

-/-

Tell her, you fool. Just tell her. Tell her you are slipping. Tell her you need help, tell her you don’t trust yourself to be alone anymore. Just fucking tell her-

“Emma, I-”

But before he can say another word, the door to the room bursts open, revealing Dr. Jain, panting for breath and looking terrified.

“Dr. Jones, we need you in OR 1.”

“Jain, I told you. I’m not-”

“Now, sir,” she demanded, swallowing thickly. “Please.”

Killian looked between Emma and Jasmine, feeling conflicted, not knowing if he can do this.

“Dr. Jones!”

“Okay, let’s go,” he says finally, the distress evident in Dr. Jain’s voice. She wouldn’t ask him if it wasn’t serious.“I’ll see you at home, Swan?”

She nods, and with a quick squeeze of her hand, he’s running out the door.

-/-

“Dr. Weaver, Dr. Fisher, I’m here. What’s happening?” Killian asks, walking into the OR, freshly scrubbed, and slipping into the gown and gloves.

Ariel Fisher looks up at him, panic evident in her eyes. “Dr. Jones, I’m not able to get the bleeding under control.”

Killian’s eyes widen, anger simmering in his belly. He turns to Weaver. “You let a resident operate on a kid?” he demands, pushing everyone aside to get a better visual, taking over from Dr. Fisher.

“It was just a routine surgery.”

“Dr. Fisher is a second year resident. She is not ready to fly solo on a child,” Killian grits out, trying to find the bleeder. “Clamp, clamp, now!” he barks, grabbing it from the nurse’s hand as soon as she hands it over.

“That is not how my teaching program works, Dr. Jones,” Dr. Weaver snaps back, assisting Killian.

“Your teaching program should not include operating on children, Weaver. You’re not a peds surgeon. You should have consulted with me.”

“Oh, forgive me, Dr. Jones, but you were indisposed and did not wish to be disturbed,” Weaver drones.

Killian can feel the utter disdain simmering in his gut. “Weaver, a kid isn’t like an adult. You can’t expect Dr. Fisher to be able to perform a procedure she has only practised on a adult before. I am the head of paediatrics here, and I should have been informed. Which you did not do.”

The machines around them started beeping loudly, making Killian curse under his breath. He can’t seem to find a visual still- there was just too much blood and he can’t seem to stop it.

“Dammit, her blood pressure is dropping.”

“I need to see, fuck. Lap pads, now!”

The machines were still beeping, without an end in sight. Killian knows that there is no coming back from this. The kid’s lost too much blood, and the more bleeders he clamps, the more that seem to pop up. He should have been here, he should have supervised the surgery.

He shouldn’t have handed the reins to Dr. Jain. He was the attending, and he should have been here. He should have prevented this. He can’t lose another kid, he just can’t.

-/-

Ariel is frozen, staring with wide-eyed horror as the attendings try and save the life that she was responsible for. She wants to move, she wants to do something, but from the moment Dr. Jones had pushed her to the side, she can’t look away from the result of her mistake. The kid - Maria, her name was Maria - she is going to die. She is supposed to be on a cruise with her parents now, but instead, she is going to die.

And it is all her fault. She should not have been so cocky. She should have voiced her concern when she had it - she should have told Dr. Weaver that she’s never performed this procedure on a child before. She should have listened to Jasmine when she told her to go to Dr. Jones.

She is unmoving, her gloved hands covered in Maria’s blood. She watches as Maria blood pressure drop, she watches as each blood drenched piece of cloth is discarded to the side. She made a mistake and Maria is paying for it with her life.

She swears her heart plummets to the ground when the girl flatlines, the long beep loud in the suddenly loud room. The surgeons have stopped - there’s nothing more than can be done.

“Time of death, twelve-oh-two am,” Dr. Jones calls out.

-/-

The three surgeons file out of the OR, their gowns and gloves discarded in the medical waste bin. Killian catches sight of Dr. Fisher, who was barely holding it together. He failed her - he should have been in the OR, guiding her. He is her teacher.

“I, uhhh. I- What did I do to her?” she whispered, horrified. Tears were welling in her eyes, and Killian can feel his heart constrict thinking about the little girl’s parents.

He turns to Dr. Weaver, waiting for him to answer her. But that man looks just as lost as he feels, but when he meets Killian’s gaze, he nods.

“We go and inform the family. We tell them we did everything we could, but there were some complications,” Dr. Weaver responded.

No matter how much he loathed the man a while ago, Killian respects that he did not throw Ariel under the bus.

“But I did that. I killed Maria,” Dr. Fishers stutters out, her lower lip trembling and she bites down hard on it.

“You made a mistake, Fisher,” Killian finally says. “And now, you will learn from that mistake. The next time you enter the OR, you’ll carry this memory with you and you will make sure that the next one survives. The next time, you will call me.” He tries to not sound too harsh; she doesn’t need that right now. She needs to know that she’s going to be alright.

“Ariel, Dr. Jones and I can go inform the parents,” Dr. Weaver offered, and Killian was about to protest. But Ariel surprised him.

“No, I should do it. You said it yourself, Dr. Weaver. I am Maria’s lead surgeon. I will talk to her parents.” Killian can still see her struggling to hold her tears at bay, but she has her head held up high.

It makes him realise that he needs to take up some accountability as well. He needs to make some changes.

“You got this?” he addresses Weaver, who nods wordlessly walking with Ariel.

Killian marches in the opposite direction, heading to Mills’ office. He needs to do something he should have a long while back.

-/-

Emma is struggling to keep her eyes open. She has been waiting for her husband to return for hours and it is well past midnight now. She is half convinced that he’s spending the night in the on-call room, even if he is, in fact, not on-call, just so he could avoid her.

It saddens her to feel so helpless when it comes to her husband. They’ve been together for ages, it should not be so hard. He can’t keep trying to protect her all the time; that’s not how their relationship has been. He knows that she’s strong enough to handle things by herself.

Ruby should have never told Killian anything about her blood pressure. Emma might not say it, but she is worried for the baby. She knew when they found out that they were pregnant, that it would be high risk. She’s not exactly young - she knows the complications that come with a late stage pregnancy. But she’s fairly healthy, and she can take care of herself - or so she’s trying to convince herself.

She rubs absent-mindedly at her chest, her heart heavy with worry. She does not want to think about it - she wants to believe that her husband will come to her if things really get that bad. But as the hours pass, her mind runs rampant with the worst case scenarios. She doesn’t want to think that her husband has fallen off the wagon, so to speak. But the more she thinks about his behaviour the past week, the more she starts to believe that Killian has started drinking again.

If he has, they will deal with it. She will ask him when he gets back home, whenever that is. And they will figure it out. They will be fine. She tries not to overthink, she tries to repeat over-and-over in her mind that they will be okay. She tries to remain calm, knowing that he has to be the one to come to her; that she can’t just jump down his throat.

It’s well past 2 am when she hears the locks click and their front door open. Emma sits up straighter on the couch, putting down the book she was only half-focused on, biting her lip in anticipation.

Killian is almost startled to see her, jumping a bit when he turns from locking up the door to see her sitting in the semi-darkness of the living room, the only light is from the lamp she has on.

“Swan, what’re you doing up? It’s late, love.” He sinks into the couch next to her, closing his eyes and letting out a groan as he stretches his arms above his head, his joints popping. “Gods, I’m exhausted.”

“Where were you?” She winces the moment she says those words, knowing how it might have come across.

His eyes shoot open, his lips pressed thin, she can tell that it came out exactly how she didn’t want it to. “At the hospital.” He sits up, facing her properly. “Where did you think I was?”

Emma sighs, reaching for his hand, letting him know that she didn’t mean to sound accusing. “I didn’t think you were coming home tonight.”

That seems to make the tension in his posture reduce, at least a little. “Yeah...I’m sorry we left things so, erm, uncertain.”

She smiles then, leaning against the soft fabric of the couch. “I know. Me too.” She pauses for a beat. “Let’s go to bed?”

Killian looks surprised, and she isn’t sure if he’s surprised that they aren’t continuing their conversation or because she wants him in bed with her. She doesn’t know what hurts more.

(The bed thing. Definitely the bed thing.)

“Let’s just sleep. It’s been a long day and I just want to crawl under the covers with my husband and fall asleep,” she says, almost a plea. She knows she sounds desperate to hold on to some semblance of normality but she honestly doesn’t care anymore.

She wants him to relent. She just wants them to close their eyes and pretend that everything is still fine. But he looks conflicted, and she almost groans out loud.

“Love, I need to tell you something,” he begins. The trepidation in his voice is not helping her stay calm.

“I know, Killian. Just - let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” she tries, tugging on his hand.

“Wait - You know? How?” His brows furrow, almost confused that she has figured it out. Almost as if he wasn’t sending out blaring signals.

“Killian.” She whines. She can’t help it. She’s several weeks pregnant, she’s had a long day and it’s past 2 am! Tears of frustration sting her eyes - why does he get to decide when they will and won’t talk. She has been wanting to talk since this morning and he choose now?!

“You’re not that discreet, buddy,” she snarls. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me, Killian. You could have come to me and we could have figured it out.”

“Figure- Love, what do you think I wanted to talk to you about?” She wants to slap him. She really just might. How can he still keep pretending?

“Dammit, Jones. I know you’re drinking again.”

Okay, he looks upset now. Maybe she is wrong. Shit shit shit.

Fuck.

“You think I’m drinking again?” he asks, his voice quiet. He’s hurt, she knows he is. Well, she can’t take back what she said. And maybe, she’s not wrong.

“I don’t know what to think. I’m concerned. Just tell me - are you?”

The pause between her question is the longest one she’s experienced. The heaviness in her heart just grows more and more with each passing second, and she is so close to shaking him. Her hand subconsciously reaches for her bump, rubbing it like she would a worry stone, trying to calm herself down. She’s holding her breath, waiting for the blade of the guillotine to drop on their lives.

“No, I am not drinking again, Emma.” Every word rings true, and Emma lets out the breath she was holding. But...there’s an unsaid ‘but’ at the end of his sentence that makes her heart race and her gut clench, and God, how is she expected to keep her blood pressure from sky rocketing.

“There’s more to it.”

Killian nods, biting the inside of his cheek. “I wanted to,” he confesses, staring down at their entwined hands, his thumb running over her knuckles. “Gods, I just wanted a drink so fucking bad, Swan.”

“Baby-”

“After Ava…. I couldn’t do it, anymore. I couldn’t bring myself to get into an OR and operate anymore. I can’t save these kids from the everything out there in world, how am I going to protect our kid from it?” His words break her. It breaks him, too, apparently, because he falls into her arms, burying his face in the space between her neck and shoulder, tears hot on her skin.

She runs her finger through his hair, her throat tight and it’s so hard to breathe, and how the fuck can this day keep giving her reasons to cry, still. She can’t bring herself to say empty words of assurance, she can’t bring herself to lie, when she’s been asking herself the same question.

How can she be a good mom, when she didn’t even know she was pregnant? How can she be a good mom, when she wants to, in equal parts, be a hands-on mom and a hands-on surgeon? How can she be a good mom, when she couldn’t even tell that her husband was struggling?

“We will do the best we can, Killian,” she whispers against his ear, pressing her lips to the side of his head.

She feels him take a deep breath, pulling away. She swipes at his wet cheeks, her mouth turned down. She feels lost, but she’s at least lost with him.

“I took a sabbatical from work,” he blurts out.

“What?”

“Yeah. For six months.”

“When did you decide this?” She’s not sure if she’s upset or surprised.

“A couple of hours ago. That’s why I’m late. I was discussing it with the chief. I had paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” she repeats, because she doesn’t know what else to say. This is fast - and unexpected. She’s not against it, per se, but, she didn’t even know he was thinking about it. He didn’t even discuss it with her.

“Swan.”

“What?”

“I’d love to know what you’re thinking,” he says, a tremulousness to him, so unlike how self-assured he sounded moments ago. It was giving her whiplash.

“You’ve taken a sabbatical - so you’re not going to the hospital?”

“No, no. I will, for consults. I’m taking a break from surgery; focus on my research with Locksley.”

She hums in the back of her throat, because what else can she say. He should have come to her, the asshole. “Cool, cool. Also, what the fuck?”

He winces, and she doesn’t blame him. He should wince. She’s annoyed. And she’s...confused.

“I should explain.”

“Yeah, that’d help,” she snaps, even if she doesn’t mean to. She rephrases. “I’m sorry. Just - yeah. An explanation would be good.”

“I’ve been sober for a while, right? And I think that just made me cocky? Or something. When Ava died, it was right after your, ah, your fainting incident, and finding out I’m to be a father. It was just all so-” He shudders and she tries not to be too offended. He notices, of course. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that… I was scared. I was fucking terrified. After what Ruby said, I just wanted to stay at home with you and never leave your side until the baby’s here. And that’s impossible, I know.”

“Yeah, you better.”

He huffs out a laugh, and the mood lightens a tad. “I didn’t want to worry you, Emma. And for that, I’m sorry.”

-/-

She is kissing him, and he is mostly surprised, but he would be a fool if you think he doesn’t respond almost immediately. He’s pretty sure he even whimpered a bit. Her lips are soft and inviting against his, and it is just that simple. It’s simple, and neither of them wished to take it further than that. It is tender and sweet, and just what the doctor ordered apparently, because he feels like he can breathe again since that evening.

She rests her forehead against his a moment later, a smile dancing on her lips. “I just needed a moment,” she says, pulling back and drawing her knees to her chest, resting her cheek on it.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“I wish you had just come to me. I wish you’d talk to me. When we got married, we promised that we’d not keep things from each other,” she says softly. He knows she’s trying not to sound disappointed, but he knows her well enough to sense that she is.

“I know. I was trying to handle it myself.”

Emma hums, but he knows she’s hurt.

“Hey, it’s not that I can’t come to you,” he says.

“It’s that you didn’t want to.”

He hates that it’s the truth. He didn’t. “Yeah.”

“I know that you don’t like talking to me about your drinking. I know that you don’t want to worry me. But you not telling me things, that still worries me, Killian.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She makes a frustrated noise at the back of her throat. “So, you’re on sabbatical?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you please say something else except, ‘yeah’?” she snaps.

“I love you.”

“Charming. But that’s not what I meant.”

“I know. But it warrants saying. All the time, forever.” She smiles at that, and that’s all he ever wants, in an ‘all the time, forever’ kind of way.

He sucks in a deep breath. “I think I need to go back to therapy.” It’s hard for him to admit, and he knows that it’s harder for his wife to hear it.

But in all these years of being together and a team, he has never found it easy to talk to her about his alcoholism. And it’s not because he thinks Emma will be disillusioned of him. She knows all the dark and gritty parts of him, and she’s accepted them as much as the rest. It’s just - it’s unnecessary to worry her with every single detail. To make her feel helpless.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she confesses. “But this parenting thing? We’re both in it together. We will make mistakes, and it won’t always be the best. But I still need you, okay? I need you to be okay, too”

“I know. And we are in this parenting thing together.”

And he knows that they have more to talk about. This isn’t the end, it isn’t going to be rainbows and sunshine. Emma’s still having a high risk pregnancy, and he’s still an alcoholic and he still very much needs a drink. But knowing the odds that they have crossed - his alcoholism, the hospital shooting, her father passing away,  her accident in her final year of residency, his father coming back into their lives - all of it, just shows that they’ve fought for their love every step of the way. They weren’t destined, real life rarely works that way, but goddammit, he’s unbelievably lucky that he gets to spend his life with Emma Swan.

He’ll be damned if he squanders it away.

“Ready to head to bed?” he asks through a yawn.

“God, yes. Can you carry me?” she requests, raising her arms at him.

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening. I’m far too exhausted. If I don’t drop you, I will probably injure you.” He pulls her up, letting her rest most of her weight on him, listening to her sleepy whining as they head to their bedroom.

Once they’re settled, her head on his chest and her bump resting lightly against his hip, sound asleep, he thinks once again about how grateful he is for having her in his life.

They’re not perfect. But they fit, they make it work.

And that’s enough for him.

#cs ff #doctor's au #i literally finished this with one day to spare #there's just so much grey's anatomy in this it's not even funny

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Embarrassing ask in retrospect, but: Jack discovers he has a huge pregnancy kink after rescuing Rhys from an abusive ex & insisting he support him through the pregnancy (as any heroic honorable alpha would do). Mutual desire starts things. Rhys dealing w/pregnancy hormones galore. They both think its only temporary (totally back on his feet w/in a year, yeah?). Until Jack starts having fantasies (Rhys pregnant again / raising kid as his own) & Rhys starts lying to himself it's just the hormones.

You’re in good company, anon ;) This got very, very long, and maybe fluffier than your request, and i just needed it done.

This labeled as Just call me daddy.My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here. Also found on my ao3 here.

–

“Next!”

Rhys quickly scampered in after the beta who was hightailing it out of Handsome Jack’s office, the omega a little worried about why someone would run from their job interview the way the man on his way out was, but he approached with as much confidence as he could muster.

Handsome Jack himself appeared rather bored, leaning back in his chair with arms above his head and shoes on his desk. Whatever had happened (or more likely, been threatened) to make the previous applicant hightail it, the CEO didn’t seem particularly afflicted by burden of conscience.

As Rhys got closer to the large desk on the raised dais, the powerful alpha gave him a raise of his brow before slightly frowning at the state of his face.

It made Rhys swallow heavily. His little makeup trick hadn’t worked.

“What the hell happened to you? I know competition for this position is steep but what, you guys as bored as me out there? Having a go at the ol’ Hyperion gauntlet?”

Rhys grimaced as Hyperion’s CEO– his prospective new-boss- looked him over from his desk as the younger man finished his approach. Not the kind of impression he wanted to make when applying for the personal assistant job, and not the face he wanted to be wearing when finally meeting his damn idol, but it couldn’t be helped.

“I uh, funny story,” Rhys began, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he stood before the epitome of everything he ever wanted to be. “So my echoeye was malfunctioning– not that that’ll affect my work sir!- and I was rubbing it really hard with this hand, and it glitched, and well, my cybernetic arm punched myself in the face.”

The omega stood there awkwardly, trying to laugh it off good-naturedly as the alpha looked him up and down with intense observation. The black eye was bad he knew, but he hoped a little superficial damage wouldn’t throw his chances. The CEO sat up straight from his relaxed posture, giving the younger man a once over as he leaned on his desktop.

Jack’s nostrils flared. “…Really.”

“It was a total freak accident, sir, but it won’t interfere with my job! All my upgrades are recent and patched.”

“Yeah, okay then…” Jack trailed off, looking at the omega’s file as he picked up an echotab from numerous littering the desk. He scrolled through it a minute before looking back at the younger man, nonplussed. “And you’re transferring from middle management to lowly ass-kissing assistant, why?”

“Ah… um, I didn’t personally see it that way…” Rhys’ admitted, ignoring the ass-kissing statement, and furthermore, just how much ass he was willing to kiss to secure this position. “Thought it was more of a step up to work directly under the CEO himself? Even as a go-fer.”

Jack leaned back in his chair again with a pleased cackle and grin. Good, he wasn’t just a pretty package with no brain. “Shit kiddo, I like the way you think. Can’t get much more into the thick of things than the balls and brain of the whole company right here every day.”

“I– Thank you, sir. I was thinking very much the same.”

“How do you pronounce this, princess? Rice?”

“Uh, Rhys, sir.”

“Rhys? Well Rhysie, your file looks great, and damn if you’re not the first to make me laugh today. If I had to deal with one more shaking idiot from the secretary pool that thought they could handle my schedule, I was going to airlock myself. Ha ha, nah, but really, breath of fresh air, pumpkin. A good brain is required for my assistant.”

Rhys bit his lip to temper the smile that threatened to split his face.  

“Everything on this resume is true, right? Not lying to me, are ya?” he asked as he eyed the younger man. It really was a step down in terms of position, but like the omega said, being under Handsome Jack (heh) wasn’t exactly any old position. “Middle management wasn’t just a cakewalk for being easy on the eyes? You’ve got the skills to back this stuff up?”

“No sir! I mean- yes sir!” Rhys quickly affirmed, cheeks slightly heating as he realized he’d just been paid a compliment by the man of his every wet dream. “I have documentation for every certification there and I can prove my technical skills on any problem you wanna throw at me.”

“Heh, confident. I like that. Okay, that’s good enough for me. I can always airlock you if it turns out you’re just a really good liar.” Jack smirked down at him, gratified in the way the younger man’s eyes widened. “Consider the job yours, cupcake. Just fix that pretty face before scheduling any publicity stuff.”

“R-really? Yes sir!”

“Awesome. Great. And knock it off with the ‘sir’ shit. We’re gonna get real close, you and I.” Jack enjoyed the slight color that went into the other man’s cheeks before continuing. “Have you pick up my dry cleaning, iron my underpants. You know. Real bosom-buddy stuff.” He snorted to himself. “Ha ha, nah, I don’t wear ‘em. Anyways, have Meg give you the access codes for everything, and tell her to tell everyone else off.” Jack huffed to himself, knowing there were still another ten applicants outside, but if he had to sit through one more sycophant, his corpse hatch was going to clogged. “See you bright and early tomorrow, kiddo! Now get out.”

The younger man quickly vacated the office as Jack sat there further reviewing his file. His qualifications truly were top-notch for just being an assistant, and he’d been the prettiest damn thing to enter his office the past two hours. Jack was vain enough to admit he wanted everything to look perfect in his future photo ops, including the assistant who would be like his shadow for upcoming events, and an uggo simply wouldn’t suffice.

He grinned. Nothing but the best.

Work tomorrow should be fun.

–

The omega’s facial bruising eventually healed and faded, and Jack forgot all about the superficial wound, and took true enjoyment in having the younger man see to his every need. He personally enjoyed sending Rhys to get him the trashy, delicious coffee from the hub that was more cream than caffeine, or run personal, handwritten threats down to financial when his calls didn’t quite seem to put the fear of god into them. Rhys was efficient, he took orders well, and he had a bit of a mean streak and a smart mouth that Jack genuinely enjoyed.

It was good working with the younger man. Especially when he genuinely seemed to enjoy completing tasks for Jack.

“Hey pumpkin, think you can run something down to your old floor for me?”

Rhys looked up, brow raised. “My old floor?”

“Yep,” Jack said, popping the ‘p’ with a smirk. “Old man Henderson needs a few reminders about where priorities are. Figured you’d like to stick it to your old boss.”

Rhys grinned widely as he left his desk to come and lean up against the side of Jack’s. “Is it my birthday or something?”

Jack snorted. “I knew you’d like that, pumpkin.” He gave the top of Rhys’ thigh a pat before handing an echotablet to the younger man. “Just drop this at his desk, personal regards from Ol’ Jack.” The wicked smirk on the younger man’s face made Jack grin. He knew that Rhys knew that whatever was in his hands wasn’t good for Henderson, and the omega was personally amused by the fact. Gotta love that little tang for comeuppance. “You know what? Go ahead and take your stuff with you, babe. Take off early, have a nice weekend.”

“Yeah?” Rhys said with a raised brow, shifting his weight more comfortably on the edge of Jack’s desk. “What about that meeting with R&D on Monday you wanted me to prep for?”

“Nah, move it to Thursday,” Jack dismissed easily as he leaned back in his big yellow chair. “One of the test subjects exploded.” He snickered as Rhys wrinkled his nose in disgust. “It was pretty funny. Wanna watch the footage, kiddo?”

“No thank you,” Rhys said with a smirk, standing up and brandishing the tablet in his hand. “If that’s really it, then I have a date with a glass of sparkling wine and a bubble bath at home.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack asked smoothly, a leer coming over his face as Rhys rolled his eyes at him. “Nice start to a weekend there. Sounds dangerous. Need a lifeguard?”

“I think I’ll be okay, Jack,” the omega laughed, ignoring the way his cheeks still heated at the CEO’s casual flirting. He’d thought after the first two months he would’ve gotten used to it, but the alpha still managed to get a rise out of him (in more ways than one). He looked away with a laugh as Jack waggled his brows at him.

“Last chance, buttercup.”

“I’ll wear pool floaties,” he dismissed with a grin. “Have a good weekend, sir,” Rhys teased as he left the alpha’s desk to gather his stuff and deliver the tablet.

“I will if you send me a play by play of how that bath turns out. Pictures optional. Only not.”

“You wish,” Rhys threw over his shoulder with more confidence than he felt, his belly doing interesting things as he knew just what kind of night he was going to have with Jack’s casual flirting in his mind. Not that it was much different from any other time Jack laid it on thick.

He ignored Jack’s comment of ‘I do!’ and left the office with a huge smile on his face. “See you Monday, Jack!”

The CEO was left to his own devices, snickering to himself and wondering if his little fanboy assistant would ever take the bait. A little office liaison might be a fun way to pass the slow times. In the meantime, flirting was always interesting. He was already planning the things he’d tease the younger man about when he saw him at the start of the work week, and chuckling over all the shades of red he knew the omega’s face would turn at his teasing.

Maybe he’d send him a message around his presumable bath time… juuuust to have a fun jumping point for conversation the following Monday.

–

The horribly bruised, badly-concealed face of the pretty younger man was not what Jack was expecting first thing Monday morning. He nearly choked on his coffee as Rhys came into the office at seven AM.

“Christ buttercup, what in the hell happened to you??”

Jack sat up from where he’d been reclined, setting the coffee in his hand aside as Rhys took up his usual place at his own desk without the usual greeting.

“My eye glitched,” Rhys supplied quickly and succinctly, tone inviting no other questions with zero room for elaboration.

He unpacked his bag for the day and took a seat at his desk to start on Jack’s schedule for the week, thinking he should have applied another layer of concealer or foundation that morning in lieu of making an extra strong coffee. But god he’d needed the caffeine.

Jack got up from his own desk, not so easily ignored from the mess that was his assistant’s face, to stand at the side of the younger man’s chair. Rhys stubbornly didn’t acknowledge him, instead going through messages from different departments and filing them according to urgency.

“Rhys.”

“Yeah?” he answered, suddenly busy to his left, facing away from Jack, with the papers Meg had left on his desk the previous Friday evening.

Jack turned his chair until the younger man was facing him. Rhys gave him a pout he ignored, instead studying the younger man’s face with a deep-set frown. “Eye glitch caused this?”

“Got soap in it washing my hair, and something shorted. It’s happened before.”

Jack snorted at the way the omega had trouble keeping his eyes on Jack’s own. Rhys was pretty, but he was a shit liar.

“Must’ve glitched like hell to have you hit yourself with your flesh hand,” Jack muttered as he studied the bruises, not at all a stranger to the finer works and marks a proper strangling or left hook could leave, especially with a metal implement. The damage was done with a flesh right hand, not his cybernetic right one.

Rhys’ lip quivered just a bit, almost imperceptible but the movement caught Jack’s eye. The older man moved closer into Rhys’ space to study the marks, gauging when during the weekend they might’ve happened. He thought to the other time the omega’s face had been bruised; his initial hiring a few months back. The alpha put two and two together.

“What really happened, kitten? Who touched you?”

His tone of voice sent a chill up Rhys’ spine. Rhys knew better than to try to lie again. He’d worked for Jack long enough now to see the little tells in the man’s face, and while the alpha seemed calm and cool, voice deep, even, a slight growl perhaps, the omega could tell he was absolutely livid. Just the careful, controlled body language of the normally carefree alpha was enough to tread carefully.

“It was an accident. And it doesn’t matter. I broke it off with him. For real this time.”

“Him who?”

Rhys sighed, looking away as Jack still stood over him. Jack’s concern was well-meaning, but unnecessary. He really wished he’d spent extra time on his face this morning. “Jack, please. It’s over and done.”

“The same idiot give you that bruise when you interviewed for this position?” Rhys’ silence was more telling than any admission, and it got Jack’s blood pumping with territorial protectiveness. He wanted to shoot someone. Strangle with his bare hands. “I knew our echoeyes were better quality than that… glitch my ass. Who did this, Rhysie? Tell me.”

“Jack,” Rhys huffed, swallowing heavily. “It really doesn’t matter, I promise. It won’t happen again. He won’t come near me again. I made sure. I made sure he got the message.”

“Rhys, kitten,” Jack said, trying to be patient as his impulse to murder was rising. He leaned against Rhys’ desk casually, but his body was too tense, too controlled to be casual. “Just let me know who hurt you, and I’ll take care of it for you, okay sweet pea?” He gave a little self-important snort. “Working for the boss-man has it’s perks, babe. How do you want him to die?”

“No Jack, just wait a second,” Rhys said in shocked appreciation, secondhand thoughts considering just what the CEO would and could do, and wondering if it might be worth it. “I'm… I’m pregnant with his child and I- I just…” Rhys choked up a little at that, clearing his throat as his eyes got a little misty, and he tried to get himself under control in embarrassment to explain.

Jack stood there shocked for a minute, gaping at the bruised, cowering omega. Shouldn’t he have picked up on something like that? But then, Rhys just always smelled good, and he was thin as hell, and it wasn’t like Jack knew what that might smell like on the younger man anyways, and christ, he was really pregnant? With some dickbag’s baby? “You… You’re gonna have a baby, pumpkin?”

Rhys looked a little torn, wringing his hands, but nodded after a moment. “Yeah,” he said a little more softly than intended. “I’ve… I’ve always wanted kids and… excuse me,” he said as he cleared his throat, getting overwhelmed again as he sat there under the gaze of the most powerful alpha on the entire station.

Jack still stood there dumbly for another moment before the frown was back in full force. “What in the hell? You telling me some asshole knocked you up and then knocked you around?” He growled under his breath. “Oooh Rhysie, I have a special new toy I’d like to use on this guy. What’s his name?”

“Jack… it’s just…”

“You aren’t seriously protecting him, are you?”

Rhys huffed, frowning as he thought. “No, but, I… I– this isn’t easy.”

“Buttercup.” Jack consciously controlled his voice, trying to appeal to the younger man as his inner voice kept repeating pregnant pregnant pregnant. He wanted to do something. To fix the situation even if he couldn’t fix Rhys’ battered face. “Let me help. Okay?” Rhys looked off to the side, still pulled in a bit on himself. Jack huffed, trying to be a little cooler. “Okay… Okay. You don’t want him killed. Maybe you think he’ll be a stand-up daddy. But Rhysie, if you think he’ll change if he knows, let me tell you, once an asshole, always an asshole. You don’t want that around your baby.”

Rhys sighed with exasperation. His face hurt, and his eyes stung. He was embarrassed and didn’t want to go to pieces in front of his idol, his boss, and this was complicating things further than he wanted or needed. “He’s known. He’s known for a few months now. He just didn’t care– said it was my problem- until he thought I could pull some strings for him, since I work for you. I told him to get bent, and well….” He motioned to his face.

Jack actually got to his knee before the younger man, a hand on his thigh and the other on the armrest as he tried to appeal to the omega’s sense. The alpha was itching for a fight. To rip something apart with his bare hands, but that would be too merciful. “Rhysie… who is that.” He frowned a moment in thought, studying Rhys as if the answer could be seen by observation alone. “Are you bonded to him, babe? Look, I know a bond might want you to keep him alive, but seriously–”

Rhys snorted derisively. “Hell no. I’m never letting anyone bond me, let alone him.” Jack’s hand on his thigh squeezed, and Rhys could see how hard Jack was trying to be supportive when he clearly wanted to get…violent. This was… This was new.

Whatever it was Jack was doing, it was hard and unfamiliar, and he was clearly itching for a fight. His scent was strong in Rhys’ nostrils– far stronger than usual- but the older man was actually being… considerate? If he dogged him enough, Rhys would give up the name, and he figured Jack knew that. But the CEO was being… kind?

“Things are… They’re complicated, Jack.”

“Let me uncomplicate them, babe.” Rhys wrung his hands, and Jack placed the one on his thigh over Rhys’ own. “Rhysie. Come on. Tell me who did this.” He smiled a little in coaxing. “You’re too damn gorgeous for anyone to damage that pretty face. Tell me who did it.”

Rhys snorted humorlessly. “I… can’t. It’s a… there are things he knows…”

“Won’t be able to tell anyone a thing if he’s dead, sweetheart.”

Rhys was certain of that. But he was also certain that, under torture or threat of death, that the beans would be spilled and Rhys would be thrown under the figurative bus. And going by the look in Jack’s eyes, it wouldn’t be a slow death.

The omega couldn’t meet the alpha’s eyes. “I can’t. It’s kind of… it’s a blackmail thing…” he admitted, voice dropping.

Jack’s brows rose considerably. “Blackmail huh? Your life is a lot more interesting than I thought. Want me to rip his tongue out before I do anything else?”

Rhys actually laughed a little, his gut churning with nerves.

“Come on kitten. Tell me the name. Just give me a name.” At Rhys’ silence, Jack chose to go the faster, less-kind route to get what he wanted, his number one priority now hurting the man who’d hurt Rhys. “Ooor I can check security footage from when you left the office all the way until you came in this morning and draw my own conclusions.”

The blood drained from Rhys’ face, and Jack felt a rare twinge of what he figured was guilt over distressing the bruised younger man.

“Please I– Jack–”

“What’s he blackmailing you for, Rhys? I’ll take care of it, okay? What? Is it something dirty? Make a tape from the orgy rooms? Illegal drugs? Who hasn’t snorted a bunch of frostbite mushrooms and rode a dick every once in a while, am I right?”

That failed to get even a smile out of Rhys, and Jack gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on pumpkin. Don’t be scared, okay? Whatever he’s blackmailing you over isn’t worth his life.”

“Can I… make a request?”

Jack’s brows raised. Now they were getting somewhere. “Absolutely, Rhysie. What do you want? Stalkers to eat his face? Elemental rounds to the kneecaps? You name it, babe.”

Rhys frowned, his stomach doing somersaults as he tried to embrace the fear, looking down towards his belly and the tiniest of bumps he knew was there. “Just… will you wait for whatever you’ll do to me until after this is born?”

Jack frowned. “Do to you? I’m not gonna do anything to you, Rhys. Damn, what kind of number this asshole do on you, baby?”

“It’s not what he did. It’s what I did. What- what I’m being blackmailed for.” Rhys could feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, dizzy, blood rushing in his ears. He’d been too scared to ever mention it, and now here he was admitting to the CEO of the entire damn corporation. “I… a year back… when the echoeye implants became available…” He swallowed hard over the lump trying to choke him. “I knew it could give me an edge over my coworkers… I’m good at what I do, was maybe the best in my department, but because I’m an omega… It’s not the first time I’ve been passed over by less-skilled alphas and even betas. I-I-I wanted the eye, but I didn’t have enough credits to buy it.” He was very aware of Jack’s hands on his. Their warmth, their size, the details of his skin and tattoo. The strength in those hands, their power. But Jack was holding him gently. So gently. “I embezzled the funds I wanted– m-more than I needed- and got the eye done. My… My boss found out.”

He was trembling, unable to meet the CEO’s eye as he admitted a sin worse than a little competitive murder: pocketing funds. His heart was going to combust any moment, and he waited for whatever reaction was sure to come; waited for those gentle hands on him to turn violent. “He had me do the same trick for him, but for a lot more….”

“So wait, you’re telling me you embezzled money from the company?”

“Y-yeah.”

“How much, princess?”

Rhys gulped, gathering himself for several moments before he softly whispered the number. Jack’s brow shot up as he asked for clarification, a little surprised at the sheer balls the younger man had.

“Million?”

“Th-thousand.”

Jack started snickering as he shook his head and gave Rhys’ hands a squeeze. His voice was lighthearted- amused- as he held the omega’s hand. “Oh Rhysie, oh geez that’s a good one. That’s it?” He was still snickering to himself, just tickled, as Rhys gaped at him, completely not understanding. “Sweetheart, everyone in middle management embezzles to some degree. Usually somewhere in the ballpark of ten to fifteen percent salary. We won’t even look at that much. Those greedy shits end up paranoid about it and with a little pressure they actually work harder. It’s good for our bottom line. Hell, something is up if someone isn’t embezzling. The upper executives call it the Humble Bonus. It’s in the yearly budget for crying out loud. Hoo you’re too cute. Is that really it?” Rhys only nodded, gaping, as Jack smiled at him. He brushed his thumb over the pregnant omega’s hand. “You weren’t nearly in as much trouble as you thought. Talk about mountains out of mole hills.”

“I… Repossession for cybernetic limbs and stuff isn’t covered by company insurance. They… I didn’t have the credits anymore if I got caught for embezzling, and if I was reported… and they wanted company property back… the Repo man isn’t exactly a doctor….”

“Wow we have those guys? Holy crap that’s creepy as hell. I like it.” He gave the omega a pat. “But pumpkin, you ‘stole’-” he used air quotes with his fingers, “-to get Hyperion experimental tech shoved into your melon. I mean we probably have grants for that crap. I’m not punishing that cute ass for loyalty, babe, I mean come on. You’re like a Hyperion poster-boy with all those robo-parts. Meow.”

Rhys wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying because this seemed too good to be true. Jack was smiling confidently as he waggled his brows, trying to make the bruised omega feel better; comfortable.

“Come on now, Rhysie. Tell me who the dickbag is. He can’t cause you any harm. Won’t let anyone repossess your cool robot parts or hurt your baby, okay? Let me kill him for you.”

Rhys’ lips trembled as he gasped out his fear. “H-Henderson.”

“Henderson? Henderson? He’s the one who–” Jack’s eyes went to Rhys’ belly, dumbfounded a moment. A sudden thought hit him like a punch to the gut, feeling even more murderous as the probability sunk in. He looked up straight into the discolored face of his pretty assistant. “Rhys, did he do this when I sent you down there Friday?”

Rhys didn’t want to answer.

Jack got to his feet. “Henderson is the one who– ooooh kitten, we are gonna make him hurt.” The CEO had trouble containing his voice at both the violence he planned and the excitement to dole it out. “He’s gonna know the meaning of pain when I’m through with him– except he won’t, because he’ll be dead.”

Rhys gave a little half-hysterical laugh.

“How um…” Jack leaned to the side, considering the omega with his whole body. “How far along are you, kitten?”

“Going on four months.”

“Pfft. No way. You’re so thin.”

“Well the shirts cover it,” he explained of the flowy top he had on. “And I’m not quite there, yet.”

“Hm. I thought you were just stylish with omega-wear.”

Rhys smirked, mood much improved. Jack seemed sincere in his concern and promises, different in a way Henderson had always been. His heart gave a lurch of appreciation. “Why can’t it be both?”

“Ha! Got me there Rhysie.” Jack’s brain was busy trying to combine torture methods that wouldn’t result in death before the most painful bits were enacted, looking at the pretty omega seated and watching him as he paced a little. He wondered what was going on in that pretty head, but more, he wondered why Rhys would have bent over for someone like Henderson in the first place. “Answer me this pumpkin: why would a gorgeous thing like you ever shack up with Henderson? You know you’re like out of his league, right?”

Rhys snorted. “He was… I don’t know. He was nice at first. Different.” Rhys gave a little humorless chuckle, the smile it brought to this face fading as it hurt the muscles about his eye. “He smelled more like a beta than an alpha, less bossy, liked my cybernetic parts. He threw projects that would have been given to an alpha my way instead. I don’t know… he didn’t get violent until I messed up a few times first. Maybe if I hadn’t–”

“Guy was a total douche, babe. You didn’t deserve any of that,” Jack growled out. Yeah, he was going to string Henderson up first. That would be step one. “He ran a kitten punching ring in his spare time, you know? Total dick from the start.”

“A- a what?”

“Exactly as it sounds. Guy going ten rounds pummeling kittens. Amusing as hell but yeah, total dick.” Rhys’ hand went over his belly, and Jack watched the movement keenly. His eyes shifted back to Rhys’ own. “Your kid is gonna be safe from assholes like that. Don’t even worry.”

“There’s a… something else…”

“What babe?”

“In the event anything were to happen to Henderson, well… I wrote in a– His funds are still there, the uh, embezzled ones that are left…” He laughed a little self-consciously at what he was asking. “-and, I mean, well, raising babies isn’t cheap-”

“You want his assets sweet pea?” Jack asked with a laugh. “I can make that happen. Not that you’ll need ‘em. Handsome Jack looks after his own know what I mean?”

No. No he didn’t. “What do you mean?”

“Rhysie, you just let me take care of things for you, okay? I’ll take care of whatever you need. You’ve got an excellent Hyperion insurance plan, namely, me.”

The omega was more than a little shocked at that. Jack had always been… well, nice felt a weird word to connect with the powerful CEO, but the alpha had done right by him so far. Not that he’d been working for him for very long at all. “Not that I care too much since I’m getting what I need, but since when?”

“Can’t it just be that I like babies?”

Rhys snorted with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah right. You hate babies.”

“Okay, fair enough, but it’s different if it’s yours.”

Rhys’ cheeks pinkened at such intimate words. This was a favor to him. Because it was him. Not for any other reason. That… He didn’t know what to make of that; of the way the alpha was looking at him with an intense curiosity, lingering on his belly.

Rhys could feel his cheeks going scarlet as he thought of all the come-ons and flirting and innuendos Jack had sent his way the past few months. The older man must’ve realized the implication, because he gave a little amused snort as he considered the man.

“No funny business, promise sweetheart. I’ll look out for you, okay? Get everything set up real pretty. Can’t have anyone say Jack doesn’t look after his own, after all.” He threw what he knew was a charming grin the younger man’s way. “No extra stress, my schedule stays organized, and we keep this party train runnin’, yeah?”

–

Jack didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d volunteered to take care of the pregnant omega’s needs, but he was sure as hell having fun with it.

Jack couldn’t keep his eyes off Rhys as the omega grew bigger. He got more and more gorgeous each day as his lithe figure bulged out with tiny life. Jack gave him easier tasks, delegated other stuff to Meg, or personally threatened departments instead of passing sentiments to them through his assistant. He got Rhys a comfier, larger chair with heating and massage capabilities. The bigger he got, the better he fit into the chair.

It startled and then made Rhys laugh the first time Jack remotely turned on the massage functions. Watching his achey assistant relax with a smile brought a sort of hungry warmth to the CEO, and Jack had to reconcile that his passing interests and flirtations were anything if not super serious.

It made the alpha purr in his throat to consider how fertile the younger man must be. The healthy glow about his skin, the proper weight on that rail-thin exterior that emphasized his omega anatomy. How he’d probably make pretty babies too to make any alpha proud. It made the older man impatient with curiosity, lost inside his own head.

His lingering looks didn’t go unnoticed by Rhys, the plump omega smirking at having caught the man for the fifth time this morning, and finally addressing the issue.

“Jack.”

“Huh?”

“It’s still got a couple months. You can’t stare this kid out of me.”

The alpha snorted in amusement. “I was just thinking; how about you and me get dinner tonight, babe? Somewhere fancy.”

Rhys looked at him in puzzlement. That was sure out of nowhere. “What? Why?”

“Do I need a reason to treat my pretty personal assistant?” Rhys snorted and Jack grinned. “Come on, you’ve got to be having weird cravings, am I right? I’ve seen the snacks you’ve been bringing in. Let’s go out. Just me and you.”

Rhys had hoped his weird little concoctions had gone unnoticed as Jack hadn’t said anything up to this point. Shock and a half: the alpha was being polite. “I…guess that would be okay,” Rhys said with a little pink in his cheeks, unable to really ignore the way Jack had been looking at him lately, now more or less certain it wasn’t all in his head.

And truthfully he’d love a night out. He was optimistic of having a good time, and maybe getting a little more casual with the older man.

He ended up having a very good time indeed.

–

Offers to dinners out turned to dinners in, little ‘accidental’ touches turning to possessive hands at lower back or elbow; scenting up his temple as he leaned down to talk to the younger man. Jack had gotten more and more handsy concerning his person the larger Rhys got, and the pregnant omega encouraged the hell out of it.

The first time Rhys let Jack take him to bed, the younger man had howled and come apart under the older man’s mouth and fingers. And the first night spent over at Jack’s penthouse, he’d laughed and snickered over the way Jack pressed kisses to his belly the morning after, a soft purr in the older man’s voice that went straight to Rhys’ heart.

Rhys was over most nights now, and Jack was reveling in the changes of his body as they discussed their blossoming relationship; what the hell Jack wanted out of this, and if he was really serious.

“Don’t you worry when that little thing is out. I’ll be here for it, never have to worry about being a single parent. Kid is gonna be spoiled rotten, sweetheart. Let me be its daddy.”

Rhys got choked up, the older man’s hand cupping his belly, his lips pressing kisses to Rhys’ skin. It sent a streak of panic through him; he wanted what Jack offered so bad, but he’d been wrong before– duped before. “How do you know you won’t change your mind? That’s… That’s a commitment, Jack. It’s a little person.”

“Because its yours, sweetheart. I don’t plan on letting you go for a long time, gorgeous.”

Rhys snorted, but as Jack entwined their fingers and kissed his hand, he really didn’t think he had anything to worry about.

“I’m so ready to be a daddy. Look how perfect you are. Starter kid is almost done. Hey, Rhysie… after this one is born, let me put another in ya.”

Rhys snorted, a laugh coming out as he smiled at Jack in disbelief. “What?”

“I need to see you all big and gorgeous with my kid, pumpkin,” the older man growled out with a kiss to his skin. “I’ve had a little taste for you all plump and fertile…. let me put another one in you. I want to be at the start of all this deliciousness next time.”

Rhys chuckled as he considered the older man’s words, a hand on his belly as he laid there with a smirk. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Come on… Do we really want this little angel to be an only child?”

“Jack…”

“We can afford it, babe,” Jack said as he kissed down the omega’s abdomen, still in shocked awe that a tiny little heir to the Hyperion dynasty was just behind thin flesh. “Cute little babies that look just like you, a whole lot of them.” Jack chuffed against his skin with self-amusement. “Let everyone know Handsome Jack can still fuck like a king and give his pretty mate all the kids he could ever want.”

“I–” Rhys was shocked silent at that little slip. Jack had never referred to him as his mate before. Even though he’d been saying up and down how he wanted to be the daddy to Rhys’ kids, he’d never yet said aloud he wanted Rhys to be his mate. “M-my mate?”

“Hell yeah, sugar.” Jack paused in his kisses as he realized Rhys was staring at him with red cheeks and a gaping mouth. “What?”

“You… you never said you wanted me to be your mate before. Do you… I mean, we’re not bonded.”

“I don’t need to bond you for you to be my mate, sweetheart,” Jack told him easily. “You said you never wanted to bond with anyone, remember? And that’s okay by me, Rhysie, but you’re still mine. Make no mistake.”

Rhys hugged him hard, taking the alpha by surprise as Jack carefully avoided putting pressure on his belly.

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” Rhys said, recalling how he’d denied Henderson such a privilege all those months ago when they’d first gotten close. “I want to bond with you, Jack. Of course I do.”

“No shit?” the older man asked with a grin. He cuddled the omega close, breathing in his scent and kissing his skin. “Oh I’m putting so many pups in you, sweetheart. We’re gonna have more kids than anyone on this station even dreamed.”

Rhys laughed. “You can have a few yourself, Jack.”

“Mm, no, I love feeling our kid inside you.” He spread his fingers wide on Rhys’ skin, kissing the younger man’s cheek as Rhys chuckled. “You’re amazing pumpkin. You’re manufacturing a human. All by yourself. That’s like– we- Hyperion’s not there yet, but damn that’s so neat.”

Rhys only shook his head, pulling the alpha into a kiss, and Jack cuddled and nuzzled him as they laid together, hand in hand over Rhys’ swollen belly, discussing their future.

kofi | ao3

#rhack #rhys the money man #handsome jack #omegaverse #fanfic #mpreg #i mean the request itself is more or less also the content so there ya go ya'll haha. #poisonjack #my fic #i needed this fic to just be DONE but let it be known they have so many damn kids he has to remodel the penthouse #lol this turned out to be over 6k o_o i just....damn im tired

[mr-mormons-adventures]

Week 6 Update!

Hello again everyone! Get ready because this week I actually have my journal with me so I can actually make this a longer e-mail. It'll be a lot nicer than my usual, "I love it out here but I can't remember what we actually did so see ya!" emails. Let us begin! Monday Afternoon: After I sent out my e-mails last week, my companion and I went down to the Gateway Arch! It wasn't too long of a drive, about 30 minutes. We found parking pretty quickly, and cheap parking at that. Then we walked for about 15 minutes down to the old courthouse where they sell the tickets for entry. They warned us there that since it was such a windy day that the top of the Arch would be swaying upwards of 20 feet back and forth. I told them I'd be fine with that, but I kinda wasn't. When we got to the top, it actually was kind of fun. We didn't really feel like we were moving too far, and when it did it just kind of felt like we were on a ship or something. It was funny watching everyone deal with it differently though. Some people waited until it wasn't moving to move, others just sprinted until they were holding on to a wall and stayed there the whole time. I moved around a bit when I got more comfortable with it, and took quite a few pictures. Once we finished with that, we dropped off a dinner for a family who was having a stressful week. They had an upcoming court date on Thursday that they were worried about, so we gave them a dinner so that they wouldn't have to worry about at least one thing that week. Tuesday: Tuesday mornings we go over to an investigator's apartment and read scriptures with him. He's not a member yet, but he would like to be one. The only thing is that he is waiting on citizenship so that he doesn't have to worry about being sent home. He's incredibly strong in his faith though, and reading with him really helped me love him and his testimony. That afternoon we spent a lot of time tracting. The first few houses were empty, or they didn't want to talk to us, but one man in particular did. But he didn't want to talk about our religion, or his, but instead he wanted to talk about all the crazy conspiracy theories he believed in. I get that to some people, religion may as well be a conspiracy theory. But at least religion has some logic to it all. His theories had no basis in logic whatsoever. Among his crazy ideas were 1.) that beneath Antartica is five layers of civilization, who are more advanced than us and have laser guns and flying saucers, 2.) that George W. Bush and Dick Cheney performed satanic rituals where they consumed flesh of orphans to stay alive and in power, 3.) that we've had anti-gravity technology since 1944 and that was the only way we were able to go to the moon (at least he believes in the moon landing), 4.) that when we tried to invent stealth jets we instead accidentally invented time travel, and finally 5.) that Trump has a heart of gold and raided the CIA headquarters secretly so that we can all know about this and that it will all be made public. Yeah. Wednesday: Got up late because I wasn't feeling too good. Still not feeling good, but whatever. It all started then. Had a district meeting where we talked with the other district about combining for a skit during Christmas Zone Conference. We came up with an idea called "12 Days of Trunky". Expect a video of it next week, as Zone Conference is on the 13th. That night, we gave blessings to the parents of that family with the court date. It was such an amazing spiritual experience, and only the second blessing I've ever given. Elder Rowley gave the blessing to the wife and I gave a blessing to the husband. While we gave it, I was prompted to tell him that his mom was proud of him for the way he served his family and supported them. It was so amazing to be the one to be the Lord's conduit for the blessing. I can't wait to give more blessings. Thursday: Thursdays are our service days. We spend the whole morning at the local food pantry on the day that they give the food to those who need it. We stand where they tell us to and hand out the food to those that need it. It's such a neat experience to see all these people and to know that even though they might not be at their best both physically and emotionally, that God still loves them and cares for them. In the afternoon while we were tracting, we got a text from an investigator that had been promising and we had plans to invite to baptism. Her text said that she was grateful for all that we had taught her but that she was done learning from us and didn't want to talk to us anymore. We were heartbroken. We loved teaching her and showing her the amazing things about this Gospel. It was so sad to hear that she didn't want to be a part of it anymore.   We got back to our apartment, and our dinner appointment that night was a member ordering pizza for us. Right as the pizza, salad, and dessert got to our apartment, we got a call from the family who had the court date that day. They told us that it couldn't have gone better. They kept full custody and even made amends with their father who hadn't talked to them in years! We were so happy to hear that, and loved talking with them about their increased faith from that experience. Friday: My headache, stuffy nose, and just general soreness caught up with me that morning and we got up late again. Once I got moving though it was better. We spent the morning preparing for a lesson with a Lutheran couple who is trying to convert us, funnily enough. We were worried about it turning into a bible bash session. Instead, we had a great conversation about our belief in the Godhead vs. their belief in the Trinity. It was awesome. We also had a follow up training meeting where I got to see everyone that came out to the field with me. It was a good meeting, but it was also really nice to be able to see everyone again and see how they were doing. Saturday: Got up on time on Saturday! We even went down to the small gym room in our apartment complex's main building. We're planning to do that more often, and hopefully I can eventually start losing more weight. Not really a fan of being only like 5'5" and 188lbs. Had lunch with the dad of the family who has us over on Sundays. He took us out to a nicer place and we had a big lunch that he was gracious enough to pay for. We talked about how our work was going and who we were excited for. Then we spent the afternoon tracting. Didn't find anyone new to teach, but had some interesting conversations with people on their doorsteps. Sunday: It's always nice to finish out a week with church. Kinda puts a cap on all the week's spiritual experiences and gives us a bit to relax and to talk with members. We also had the family from earlier this week come to church with us, and even though they only stayed for sacrament meeting, they loved it and said they'd be back. Had lunch again with that family. They were planning on giving out a ton of snacks and banana bread and a ton of other goodies to various families in the ward and we left there with more food then we ate for lunch. Anyway that was my week. Bit of a longer e-mail when I actually remember stuff huh? Hopefully I can start to do this weekly so that you all can hear about my amazing adventures more often and in more detail. Until next week!

Elder Brown

[fullmoonimagines]

You Comin’? // Theo Raeken

@dunwithcalum: If you are doing the sentence thing??? “No, like… i just cant believe you are actually wearing my clothes” w/ theo

Y/N POV

Exams were in a week and I am a complete mess. I’ve always had good grades, but this year? This year has kicked my ass. The sheer amount of work that I’ve done this year is enough to make me want to go plant a whole forest. I’d been so busy trying to cram in so much review that my brain hurts. I had taken the weekend off (or that’s what I told myself) and came back to school on Monday trying not to think about the impending doom that I’m sure to meet on exam day.

I was so preoccupied with trying to remember my locker combination and a million calculus formulas, I barely noticed the emerald-eyed boy standing next to me.

“Hey Y/N, are we still on for tonight?”.

On for tonight? What does he–oh. I told Theo I’d study with him. I completely forgot. The confused look in my eyes probably gave away the fact that I totally forgot about our plans because he continued by saying, “If you forgot, it’s fine. We don’t have to”, a despondent look flashing across his face. Was he upset?

“N-no, I want to” I replied, a little too quickly, “7o’clock?”.

“Yeah, see you then” he said, a slight smirk replacing the preexisting frown.  It took a few minutes for my heartbeat to return to it’s normal pace. How was I ever going to concentrate on actually studying when he’s going to be there to look at?

7o’clock rolled around and I was currently sitting in my car in the Raeken’s driveway. You’re here to study Y/N. Study. I took a deep breath before getting out of my car and hauling my huge backpack up the front walkway. After a few knocks, Theo eagerly opened the door and guided me inside. As I entered his room, there were papers and books spread out everywhere, he was really prepared.

I sat my bag on the ground and began spreading my binders and papers out just as he had, as he joined me on the floor. After going over a few questions each of us had, we sat sat in a comfortable silence as we looked over our own papers. I kept glancing over at Theo, I just couldn’t help it. His jawline was sharp and his eyes were as green as dew covered grass, being illuminated by the morning sun. I caught myself staring as the sound of the pen in my hand dropping to the floor woke me from my trance.

A few minutes later, the numbers and formulas on my page began to blur. I needed a break, and I know exactly what I can do. I looked back over to Theo, my mind instantly calming. I scanned over his face, a look of concentration spread over it. How his features still appear so alluring while in such a state of concentration is beyond me. I got lost in him again, only this time he happened to notice. His eyes glanced up to mine, and he gave me a soft smile. It took me a few seconds to realize that he saw me, and I turned my head back to my books slowly.

“You look tired” he stated in a gentle voice. And boy, was he right. I was exhausted. “What time is it?” I asked, but not really wanting to know the answer. He turned to look at his phone before telling me, “after midnight”. Well no wonder I’m so tired. I took a deep breath before rubbing my hands over my face, trying to prepare myself for the drive home.

“I should go” I said, gathering all my papers and placing them back in my binders. I tried to stifle my yawns as I stood up, and Theo followed. “You don’t have to go, you know. You could stay here?” he stated. I took a deep breath again, before looking at the time again. “Are you sure?” I asked, not wanting to overstep. “Of course”, he replied “it’s late, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you”, a blush creeping onto his face.

After texting my parents to let them know I was staying, I took the clothes Theo gave me and headed to the bathroom. After changing into one of Theo’s t-shirts and replacing my jeans with a pair of soft sweatpants, I sauntered back to his room. I wasn’t prepared to see a shirtless Theo when I returned, but it’s surely what I got. I stood in the doorway, mouth watering and while also drowning in the material of his shirt. His abs had a soft glow due to the moonlight coming in from the window near by and his hair was tousled flawlessly atop of his head. Theo caught me staring yet again and gave a small laugh while walking over to his bed. Once he laid comfortably on the bed, he patted the spot next to him, motioning me to join him. My feet padded across the cold wooden floors and I climbed onto the bed beside him. My body was wrapped in the warmth of the blankets as well as the warmth of Theo laying beside me. My eyelids started to become heavy, and while listening to Theo’s even breaths, I allow myself to fall into a restful sleep.

My eyelids fluttered open to the soft sunlight coming from the window and a strong arm wrapped around my waist. I stretched my arms and yawned before getting out of bed and checking my phone, careful not to wake the sleeping boy that had been next to me. When the screen lit up, the time showed 7:30am, and my pulse went through the roof. I had a study group before school in 15 minutes, not to mention it’s exam day. Great. I slid on my jeans as fast as I could, grabbed my backpack and slipped out of the door, all but sprinting to my car.

Besides a rushed morning trying to get from Theo’s bed to the exam room, I’ve had a pretty good day. I crushed my calculus exam and my study group helped to put my mind at peace with my other upcoming tests. I was currently standing at my locker, putting my books away before lunch, when Theo approached from down the hall. “Hey, Theo” I said, closing my locker and turning towards him. His jaw almost dropped to the floor when I turned to him, a surprised look appearing on his face. “What’s up sleepy head? Is something wrong?” I asked, becoming worried. “No, like…I just can’t believe you are actually wearing my clothes” he sputtered. Confused, I looked down to find that I was still wearing Theo’s t-shirt. “Oh, I didn’t even notice” I told him. “It-it looks good on you” he replied, blushing. “It should, it just helped me pass my calculus exam” I threw back sassily before giving Theo a big kiss on the cheek and walking down the hallway. I turned my head back to him, and he was still standing in the same place looking almost shocked.

“You comin’?”.

Writer’s Note: Y’ALL IM ACTUALLY REALLY PROUD OF THIS ONE! THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @lexsdesires and @pansbaby for all of their help! As always thank you @dunwithcalum for your request, I hope you love it!

#theo x reader #theo raeken x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf imagine #requests open #ships open #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken imagines