#Sometimes grumps just have too much money and not enough sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

in-tua-deep · 4 years

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Prompt idea that I sincerely don't know anywhere else to put out, but what if, one mother of the seven like... delayed giving up the baby idk why, but like, in the end the child goes to the academy, but like... they know the world outside this mansion full of all sorts of abuse and violence, and so is trying to bring good sense and awareness to all of other children somehow, even though like... you don't know very much or correctly the things in general, but is trying anyway because yeah

okay okay i will bite

it's gonna be Five bc u know how I roll by now and you didn't specify a child, so this is a non-twin world uwu

I see some people naming him Fievel so we're gonna have to go with that, nicknamed Five by the other kids who thought it was absolutely hilarious to ask "which one?" whenever Reginald snaps “Five!”

Though officially, of course, Five is number seven.

So Fievel is born in a park to a mother who was never prepared to have achild, but held him in the hospital and looked into the eyes of a man offering her money for her newborn and she says - no.

Because she’s poor, yes, and she’s working two jobs to make ends meet, and this man might be able to provide for her child but - she doesn’t like the fact that he offered her money. As though he could place a price on a human life.

(His stupid mustache might have played a role as well. Bastard.)

So she keeps little Fievel, and it’s hard. It’s so hard. Babies are expensive, and she was barely making enough as it was, but her best friend works from home and offers to take him sometimes during the day instead of a more expensive daycare. Some of her other friends ask around relatives and friends and hunt through garage sales until she has a passable amount of baby items.

It would be easier if Fievel wasn’t such a precocious child. He’s curious and into everything, a loud baby that demands attention.

“C’mon Fi,” She begs her three-year-old son from where she’s draped across the sofa. Aren’t kids supposed to sleep a lot? Why did she end up with the one kid in the world who is on the go twenty four seven? “Can we please take a nap?”

“No.” Fievel says with a mulish look in his eyes and he shoves a book towards her face and almost takes her eye out with a corner of it, “Wead to me.”

And she sighs, and she’s so tired, but she hauls herself up and pats the sofa next to her and her little boy beams at her with such - such love that it almost takes her breath away. “Dogger, again? How many times have we read this?”

Fievel kicks at her with his little soft foot, and she catches it in a hand and smiles and she drops the book in her lap to bring her other hard over to dust feather light fingertips against her baby’s sides.

He’s terribly ticklish and giggles even as he shrieks “NO” loud enough that their neighbors will probably complain to her about it again. But in that moment she doesn’t care as she brings her head down to blow raspberries on her son’s stomach and make him laugh.

She loves him so much.

(But she never has any time. Her friendships are more distant now, because she’s either at work or spending time with her son. She’s always exhausted because she works such long hours and Fievel keeps her awake when she’s a home. She doesn’t blame him, he didn’t ask to be born into the world any more than she asked for him, really. But it’s hard.)

Fievel is a curious child. She takes him to children’s museums and zoos on the discount days and watches him run around with seemingly endless energy. She has to keep a careful eye on him otherwise he will disappear, get distracted and wander off no matter how many times she’s tried to tell him to never do so.

Then he turns four.

Her baby is so smart. And he’s restless. And even though the place she works has a daycare through them, the people there are one incident away from banning Fievel. She thinks that’s dumb, considering they’re the ones that didn’t watch Fievel closely enough and lost him almost four times in recent months.

So she signs him up for preschool.

She gets him a brand new outfit for the day, fussing over him until he’s all squirmy and pouty and slapping her hands away with all the grump that a four-year-old can muster.

She sends him off to daycare with ruffled hair and a wide smile and tries not to worry too much.

She’s at work when she gets a call from the school informing her that they’ve lost her son. She hurriedly lets her boss know and sweeps out of work without a backwards glance, showing up at the school just as her phone rings again and a flustered individual informs her that they’ve located him.

“I have no idea how he got out.” The frazzled teacher looks close to tears when she meets with the poor woman, giving Fievel a fierce look that promises that they will be having a talk about this.

“I din’t do anything.” Fievel pipes up mulishly, “I didn’t go nowhere, the class did.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, and faces the teacher apologetically. After a pointed comment from a friend, she’s been vaguely looking into ADHD since her kid is like this, “I’ll have a talk with him.”

“I’ll - I’ll make sure to keep a better eye on him.” The woman looks floored that she isn’t tearing strips out of the school administration for losing her toddler. Actually when it’s phrased like that she probably should be more pissed off. But she also knows her kid and what a handful her is.

So she takes him home and sits him down.

“This can’t happen again, Fi.” She tells him, and he’s got his little arms crossed and he’s pouting with his entire body. “I mean it. I had to leave work, and you know I have to work.”

“You don’t hafta.” Fievel says harshly, “What about me?”

She sits on the couch next to him, heart heavy, “Baby, you know I have to work so that we can have things and go places.”

Her son scrabbles up on his knees and puts his hand on her arms and gives her big eyes, “I don’t need lotsa toys. An’ we don’t hafta go to the zoo.”

“Oh baby,” She pulls him into her arms and lets him snuggle into her, “I gotta work. And you gotta go to school and be good. Okay? You can’t be leaving the classroom again.”

“I din’t mean to.” Fievel sniffles, and she hugs him just a little tighter as the tears start to flow.

“It’s okay.” She murmurs into his hair, “I got you.”

To his credit, Fievel does his best. He still manages to leave the classroom somehow, seemingly whenever the teacher is looking away. No one seems to know how he does it. Emma who sits next to him exclaims that he just vanished like he went BAM and wasn’t there all of a sudden!

(Oh, the imagination of four-year-olds, the teacher thinks to herself.)

But whenever he does he seems to come back within fifteen to thirty minutes. Sometimes the teacher doesn’t even notice he’s gone before he’s knocking on the (locked) classroom door to be let back in. They don’t call his mother about the incidents anymore and the teachers nickname him Houdini with a sort of despair.

Fievel is four-and-a-half when he’s taking a walk with his mother down to the park. He’s got his little rainboots on because he always wades into the pond and he likes the slosh of the water on his feet when it goes over the top, and his little duck shirt. He’s making loud quacking noises which don’t actually sound anything like a duck but when he looks at her for approval she nods with a smile.

They’re crossing the road at the crosswalk, holding hands because they always do, when the car comes careening around the corner.

She can’t react in time, eyes widening and she’s hollering and she moves to push her son and she only has eyes for him as she places her body between him and the car and -

She watches his eyes go wide and afraid and she

watches

him

disappear

and then the car clips her and she’s sent sprawling and that’s the last thing she remembers.

She wakes up in the hospital hours later with a concussion, a broken arm, several broken ribs, and a lots of scrapes. She’s lucky, they tell her. She demands to know where her son is.

Hours later, when she’s worked herself up into a right tizzy, her son sprints into the room followed shortly by some very harried looking cops and she has to haul him into the bed so that he doesn’t hurt himself getting up.

“Gentle, gentle.” She warms him, wincing when he bangs a knee into her bad ribs, “I’m a little tender at the moment, baby.”

“You got hurt!” Fievel yells at the tops of his lungs and then immediately bursts into loud and terrified tears. So she ignores her bad ribs and messed up arm and cradles him close to her making shushing noises and stroking his back until he’s cried himself out and drops off right there in the hospital bed.

She gets out of the hospital with a cast and a bill she can’t afford right now and she sits Fievel down on the couch.

She wants to write off the fact that her son literally vanished before her eyes to the concussion. But - she thinks about a locked preschool classroom and a son that has a tendency to vanish when she takes her eyes off of him and -

It makes too much sense.

“Baby.” She asks, “Can you teleport?”

“What’s tell-ee-port?” Fievel asks, scrunching up his nose.

“Do you find yourself in other places without getting up and going to them?”

“Yeah.” Fievel states it so easily, like she’s dumb. “I told you so.”

She pressed her fingers to her face, “Can you do it now?”

Fievel frowns and then scrunches up his face real hard and then -

He’s gone. And then he’s opening his bedroom door and scurrying back out. He runs over and tugs at her pants eagerly, “I did it! Did I do good?”

She crouches down and ruffles his hair even though it kills her ribs, because she can’t pick him up with a broken arm. “Yeah baby,” She praises him, mind moving at an hour a minute, “You did good.”

That night she lays in her bed and watches Fievel’s chest rise and fall as he sleeps. He sprawls out like a starfish but sometimes in the night always buries himself into her side like a tick. She’s put a pillow in between them to try and spare her poor ribs, but she has doubts it will work.

Her son can fucking teleport.

That’s when she cries. Because she loves her son, but he’s a handful. She didn’t even notice. She didn’t notice that he son has a superpower. Doesn’t that make her the worst mother in the world?

Crying is a terrible idea. Her ribs are painful enough that she can’t sleep. She needs to ration her pain medication because they really can’t afford it.

How is she supposed to handle this? How is she supposed to raise a child that can vanish without a second thought? Her bright beautiful boy who loves feeding the ducks and being pushed on the swings and playing unfathomable games with his friend Emma that she can’t even begin to understand the plot of.

(She’s almost certain one of them is supposed to be a cheetah for some reason? Or a lion? There’s a lot of running involved in the game, and hiding.)

It’s a few months later when her arm is healed and her ribs are better and Fievel is turning five when everything comes crashing down. Because she doesn’t get a call from the school. She gets a call from the police.

Apparently Fievel managed to get out of the school far enough away that he got lost. He admits tearfully to her that he’s been getting further and further away when he ‘jumps’ - and it’s not his fault. He tries not to jump. But it happens whether he wants it to or not and if he keeps getting further and further away then -

She thinks of a car and a road and putting her body between death and her son. And she thinks about the fact that when he jumps, she isn’t there.

Look. She’s not stupid. She always knew that her kid wasn’t exactly a normal child.

(Hello. He’s practically a miracle. She wasn’t exactly a virgin but that doesn’t really matter when she was very suddenly nine months pregnant where she hadn’t been before.)

So she reckons that the powers have something to do with that. And who does she know that definitely has a child who was also one of the miracle babies?

(He’d mentioned he’d already acquired like, what, four kids when he came to see her. As though that was supposed to make her want to give up her kid even more.)

So she requests some vacation days (that she can’t afford) and she pulls Fievel out of preschool for a week (it’s preschool it’s not that important) and they fly over to a city where she can hopefully get some answers.

(Fievel spends the whole flight with his face pressed to the window and his plane toy clutched tightly in one hand and his stuffed dog in the other as he enthusiastically makes whooshing noises.)

And she goes up the the big mansion thing and knocks and goes inside where she smiles at Fievel and tells him to go play with the other children while she talks to Mr. Hargreeves, thank you baby.

As she clenches her hands into fists and listens to Sir Reginald Hargreeves condescend to her about her ability as a mother, Fievel enthusiastically bounces over to the kids his age who stare at him like they’ve never seen anything like him before in their life.

(“I’m Fievel!” He introduces himself loudly, “And this is Doggy! My mama is here to speak to your dad.”

“Uh. I’m Six.” A bewildered little girl says back.

Fievel blinks, “Oh! I just turned five.”

The girl giggles, “No! No I mean my name’s Six. but I’m five-years-old as well.”

“That’s a funny name.” Fievel says.

“Nuh uh.” The girl refutes, “Your name is weird. See, ‘cause we’re all numbers ‘n you’re not.”

And he’s introduced to them all. One is tall and awkward looks. Two hides behind the others a little bit. Three has her hands on her hips and she looks at him, but softens when he tells her that he likes her hair. Four is a skinny wisp of a kid, with big wide eyes and no sense of personal space. Five sticks pretty close to Four. And Six, of course, is the one who talked to him first which obviously means that they’re temporary best friends.

Temporary, because of course Emma is his best friend. ‘Cause she’s in his class and they sit near each other and play together with each other first.)

And his mother comes out to Fievel bossing the others around and them going with it, all with bewildered little expressions on their faces. Fievel is balancing on the back of the sofa next to a little girl who is holding Doggy, possibly in the middle of an evil villain speech? The little girl is solemnly petting Doggy like she’s a Bond villain at the very least.

It makes her smile, just a little bit.

“Fievel, baby, can you come here for a second?” She asks, and her son beams at him and vanishes from his seat over to by her leg where he pulls on her leg so that she’ll sweep him up into her arms.

(The children gape at him, all wide eyes and staring between them and their father like they’re shocked. And they probably are. Reginald has informed her that none of them can teleport, but they do have a variety of weird powers between them.)

“You know that you’re getting big.” She says, and she tries not to cry, “And you’re not going to be in preschool soon enough.”

“Yeah!” He enthuses, “Gonna learn real stuff!”

And that’s just like her son. Voraciously hungry for knowledge.

“Well, this is a school for very special people.” She tells him, and watches his eyes go big and round, “People who... can teleport, for example.”

Fievel considers that. And then twists around to look at the other children, “You can teleport?” He demands loudly, like it’s a betrayal of the highest form that they’ve been friends for an hour and this hasn’t been brought up. And maybe it is. She doesn’t claim to understand the intricacies of children’s hierarchy.

“Uh uh!” A little boy exclaims, frowning. “I can just throw stuff real good.”

“I’m strong.” Another little boy offers. And then proceeds to demonstrate this by picking up half the couch and sending the little girl careening onto the floor with a shout, but she gets up and dusts herself off easily enough.

“Okay.” Fievel says brightly, appeased by this somehow as he twists back to his mother expectantly.

“Okay.” She says, her mouth dry. “Well. This is a special school for special kids. It’s, uh. It’s a boarding school.”

“What’s that?”

“It means you stay here.” She tells him. “I’ll - I’ll come and see you when I can. And you can call me whenever you want. But you have to stay here.”

“Like a sleepover?” Fievel asks, scrunching his face up in confusion.

“A little bit.” Her smile feels weak and forced and she can’t even see it. “Like a lot of sleepovers all in a row. And when you wake up, you don’t need to go anywhere because you live at the school.”

“Uh uh. I live at home.”

“Baby...” She cards her fingers through his hair. “I know it’s scary. I don’t want you to go either - ”

“Then I don’t gotta.” Fievel says, matter of fact as he starts wiggling to get down. She hefts him up in her arms.

“Baby. Fievel. Listen to me.” She says firmly, “I can’t take care of you well enough.”

He looks at her with betrayed eyes.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t control your powers.” She tells him softly, because she loves him and she doesn’t want to give him up but - “I can’t keep you safe, baby. And the teachers can’t keep you safe. But you’ll be safe here.”

“I don’t want to.” Fievel says, loudly. In the tone which says that a tantrum is approaching.

“You’ll learn how to control your powers!” She says in a forced cheery voice.

“I’m going to school with Emma.” Fievel insists in a slightly louder voice.

“You’re already getting along great with the other kids.” She insists.

“NO.” Fievel says, at maximum volume, and then he’s gone from her arms and she’s stumbling because it’s weird to go from holding something to nothing.

“He’ll show up in a bit.” She assures Sir Hargreeves, beyond tired. He’s been watching the whole interaction and she hopes he hasn’t gotten a negative impression of her son.

If he’s able to handle six other super powered children then surely he can handle hers. No matter what he asks. No matter how difficult it was to sign over the rights to her child. He promised that she can visit Fievel on weekends whenever she wants, for however long her son wants to do so.

He’s going to keep her child safe. He won’t be running out onto streets. He’ll be able to train his powers, be able to control them, and maybe one day -

(Maybe one day she’ll get her baby back. Safe and sound in her arms and able to control his powers so she doesn’t have to worry at all.)

So she leaves, and she leaves Fievel alone. And no matter how much he screams and cries and begs, no one lets him go back to his mother. He tries to run off, tries to jump away and follow after her - but a blond woman in pristine skirts comes and retrieves him.

(He tries to jump away, but she keeps coming and finding him until he’s too tired to protest when she carries him back to his new (prison) school in her arms.)

Reginald tries to lock him in his room. He jumps out. Reginald tries to put him in time out. He jumps out. Reginald says he doesn’t get any dinner. Fievel jumps downstairs and raids the cupboards in the night.

It becomes an intense battle of wills between Sir Reginald Hargreeves and little Fievel.

Locks go on the cabinets, Fievel breaks them off by bashing them with one of the bookends he manages to snag. Reginald refuses to let Fievel play with the others. Fievel runs away again and has to be brought back by the blond lady.

(“You can call me Grace if you’re so against mom.” she had told him demurely, after he yelled himself hoarse telling her that she’s not his mother that he has a mother and that she’s so much better in every way)

Then Reginald takes Doggy away, and Fievel begrudgingly has to fall in line lest he risk his stuffed companion. One of the only links to his real life he has.

(He doesn’t even get to keep his clothes. He has to wear the stiff awful uniform that the other kids wear. It’s the absolute worst. He looks stupid but no one listens to him.)

When his mother comes to visit, Fievel is sullen and still angry with her for abandoning him. He sulks and doesn’t talk to her a lot.

He grows like this. The Umbrella Academy turns six, and then others receive names after Fievel loudly points out that having numbers for names is weird and that no one should ever trust a man who names his kids numbers it’s lazy and stupid.

So One becomes Luther and Two becomes Diego and Three becomes Allison and Four becomes Klaus and Five becomes Ben and Six becomes Vanya.

And Fievel becomes Five.

They all think it’s really funny, that they all get names instead of numbers and Five gets a number instead of a name.

He’s six and Reginald sits him down and tells him in no uncertain terns that his mother essentially sold him. That Reginald controls him. And if Five isn’t a good boy then... well. Bad boys don’t get to visit their mothers.

(Reginald finds a far more... effective way of controlling Five than a stuffed animal.)

(Good boys also don’t talk to their mothers about their training. They smile and act happy and lie because they want to keep seeing her. They don’t tell her about how scary it is, how they desperately want to come home, how maybe their mother could take all the kids because they don’t even have mothers and it isn’t fair.)

So Five grows bigger, gets new uniform, clashes with Reginald as much as he dares, and settles in to life at the academy. He sprawls across Vanya’s floor and tries to remember all the story books he read with his mother.

(There’s only grown up books in the manor that they’re expected to read. And Five likes them, he loves to learn, but - he misses storytime. He misses the wonderful books about adventure and other worlds. He misses when he felt like he was going to go on an adventure because he had powers and was special!

He doesn’t wish he’s special anymore.)

Vanya asks him once why he hangs out with her, because she’s normal. Because she doesn’t have powers.

And Five looks at her and tells her that that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. He spend years surrounded by people without powers. He tells her about his best friend Emma, who definitely didn’t have powers.

“I wish I had a best friend.” Vanya tells him, face sad and drawn and Five pulls her into the fiercest hug he can.

“You’re not my best friend,” He tells her, and she looks even sadder until he finishes it up with, “You’re my sister.”

“But you have a mother.” She says, sounding confused.

Five shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. Reginald is legally my dad, and he’s legally your dad, and so we share a dad. That makes us siblings.”

“Is a sibling better than a best friend?” Vanya asks after a long moment of silence.

Five doesn’t think so. He misses Emma. He misses his preschool. He misses his life, the life before the Academy. But Vanya looks so sad and pale that he hugs her again and says “Yeah, of course. We’re family.”

The others tolerate him in varied amounts. Luther thinks he’s dumb because he’s always mean to Reginald. Five thinks Luther is dumb, and he’s definitely right. Allison constantly bugs him for information about what she terms “the outside world” and Five has told her about birthday parties at least a dozen times and she still looks wistful and asks him to tell her about them again.

(They turn eight and Five produces a paper crown for his sister because she looked so wistful when he described Emma’s birthday tiara. Allison wears it until Reginald snaps at her to get rid of it, but Five sees her tuck it in the waistband of her skirt rather than throw it away.)

When Reginald snaps at Diego for his stutter, Five snarls and snaps back, getting between the man and his new brother and yelling because he knows that’s not how you help kids! Yelling doesn’t help! His teacher said so! And his mama!

Diego is never particularly thankful for his interference, but Five doesn’t care.

Five is nine and he jumps into the mausoleum with Klaus and holds his most fragile brother and snarls, threatens to run away. To take Klaus and just go, that they’d go to Five’s mother and she would take them away from Reginald and this place and -

Klaus always buries himself into Five’s side with his hands over his ears until the morning when Five either jumps away or glares with furious eyes at Reginald even when he’s punished after.

He’s nine when he gets into a screaming match with Diego who says that Five isn’t one of them that he has his mother and if he had the chance he would abandon them in a heartbeat.

Reginald threatens to cut off his mother’s visits if he finds Five interfering with “Number Four’s training” one more time.

Five looks at Klaus, who is his brother. Who is frail and skinny and pale with dark bags underneath his eyes.

Reginald looks satisfied because Five has always backed down before when his mother is threatened. It’s his ultimate trump card.

Five is so very very tired of his mother being used against him. And he loves Klaus. And these kids, they are his siblings. (He tries not to think about the fact that next year he’ll have officially been here just as long as he was with his mother. He hates it.)

Reginald finds Five in the mausoleum with cobwebs in his hair and his brother against his side and a glare on his face and Reginald forbids his next visit with his mother.

Five keeps jumping into the mausoleum. Klaus looks at him with wonder in his eyes and Five pries up the floorboard that hides Doggy (because even after Reginald found a better way to threaten him, he remembers) and cries himself to sleep.

“You chose us.” Ben states instead of asks, very quietly, when they’re studying together.

“My mother can look after herself.” Five says stiffly, not taking his eyes off the page. “Klaus can’t.”

Ben doesn’t say anything more, but Five feels eyes on his back for a good long while after that.

When Five is ten, they debut for the first time. They go to the bank, and stop the robbers.

(“We can’t send Ben in,” Five insists, “They’ll die!”

“They’re robbers.” Luther scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Doesn’t matter. They’re still people.” Five insists. “You definitely aren’t supposed to kill people. It’s a law.”

“Shut up, Five.” Diego says grouchily, “We just need to get this over with.”

“Dad’ll be pissed off if we let any of them escape.” Allison says, and the whole group goes quiet as they consider their father’s disappointed fury.

“I’ll go.” Ben mutters reluctantly, and Five tries to meet his eyes but the other boy slips into the vault before he can. The group stands silently as they listen to the screams and watch the blood splatter.

“This is wrong.” Five whispers.

“This is how it is.” Klaus whispers back, sounding defeated.

They don’t talk about it, after.)

Five smiles for the camera and lets Klaus lean on his shoulder and steals a thing of tissues from a reporter’s purse and uses them to wipe more of the blood from Ben’s face with a tight smile and the world goes on.

(He doesn’t know his mother watched. Doesn’t know the fury she flew into. Her son was supposed to be safe - he was supposed to be at a school. Why the fuck was he stopping a bank robbery like some kind of little child soldier?

She becomes a problem. And Reginald can be awfully practical about problems.)

Five is ten-and-a-half and he hasn’t seen his mother in a year and a half. And he’s tired and he’s rebellious so one day he sneaks out and finds a pay phone and the only reason he remembers his number is because his mother made him memorize it and quizzed him frequently.

(He’d gotten lost so often from wandering away and accidentally jumping. His rules were to approach either women with children or people who worked wherever and ask them to call her.)

Except the call can’t connect. Disconnected number.

Five frowns, and end up doing some research which involves massive lies to the library, and then he has a picture of a newspaper obituary in his hands and a hole in his heart.

Car accident, the paper says.

Five crumbles it up, and then smoothes it out again because there’s a picture of his mother next to the article and Five doesn’t have any pictures of his mother. So he hides it under the floorboards next to Doggy and cries himself to sleep and then he gets up and does his training and doesn’t talk about it.

He doesn’t tell his siblings. Not even when Luther blows up and calls him a stuck up brat who can go cry to his mommy if he think it’s so bad here. Not even when Klaus jokes about running away with a cracking voice in the mausoleum, not really jokes at all. Not even when Vanya asked him for another of his mother’s stories and he started crying in the middle of them. He’d just told her it had been a hard day of training.

(Vanya never asks him questions if he mentions training. He feels bad about lying to her and using it as an excuse but...)

He waits for Reginald to tell him. He waits, because surely someone would tell him that his mother is dead. He’s her son.

Reginald never tells him. He tells Five that he’s bad and still hasn’t earned back his visiting privileges. Five hates him so much. So so much.

Five is twelve-years-old and he is sprawled across Vanya’s bed after a particularly brutal day of training. Reginald has been trying to overtrain Five the day before he puts Klaus in the mausoleum overnight so that Five will be too tired to jump in. It doesn’t work, but it’s an exhausting enough punishment.

“I wish I didn’t have powers.” He tells Vanya.

“No you don’t.” Vanya says back fiercely, fists clenching in her blankets, “Not having powers sucks.”

Five tilts his head and looks at her, “No.” He says gently, “No one knew I had powers. And I was loved. I was so loved, Vanya.”

“Stop it.” Vanya says, face tight. “If you were so loved, why did she leave you here?”

And Five opens his mouth and nothing comes out, because it hurts.

“You don’t wish you had powers, Vanya.” Five tells her finally, and there are tears in his eyes but he’s looking at the ceiling not at her so it doesn’t matter. “You wish you had a family. A proper family. Not this - this stupid academy. I hate it. I hate it here.”

“Don’t call it stupid.” Vanya says, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you have a family and we just - we just have the academy, okay? So don’t call it stupid.”

“We deserve better. We deserve a childhood.”

“We have a childhood.” Vanya scowls, “Just because it’s not as nice as yours was or whatever - ”

“This is my childhood, Vanya.” Five snarls, propping himself up to face her, “I know you all think I’m so spoiled and - and I’m not one of you or whatever, but I came here when I was five. My memories of before - Vanya they’re fading. I couldn’t pick Emma out of a crowd if I tried. I’ve been here for years longer than I was ever there, and it’s not fair.”

“You still have a mother - ”

“No I don’t.” Five cuts her off, his voice ice. Vanya’s eyes are wide, startled by his tone. “Vanya, look around you. When was the last time I saw my mother?”

Vanya’s lip wobbles as she realized she can’t remember.

“It’s been three years.” Five tells her, eyes hard and cold and angry, “She’s gone. I made a choice, and I chose you. I chose the academy. Because despite everything, I love you guys. You’re my siblings, even if sometimes you don’t act like it.”

“Five - ” Vanya tries.

“No.” Five cuts her off, hopping off the bed and shaking his head, “I’m going to - I’m going to go to my room. You get some more practice in or something. I think Pogo picked out this piece and you know what he’s like.”

He doesn’t let her get a word in before he jumps up to his room.

Five is twelve when he stands in front of Reginald and says “I’m not using my powers anymore.”

“You have an assignment.” Reginald says severely.

“No.” Five refuses politely, and his family watches with wide eyes from the sidelines. The only family he has left. “I’ve got control now. I’ve decided I’m going to be normal now.”

Reginald locks Klaus is the mausoleum early and watches with unimpressed eyes as Five picks the lock and strolls in.

Reginald handcuffs Five to a rail. Five plucks a paperclip from his sock and picks those as well.

Reginald locks Five in a room from the outside and tells him that he’ll get dinner when he jumps out.

Five opens the window and shimmies down the drainpipe and has to be picked up at Griddy’s where he’s charmed the owner out of a free doughnut and hot chocolate with a sob story about school bullies to explain his grubby appearance (the shimmy down the drainpipe hadn’t exactly been graceful. or clean.)

He locks Five in the basement in a weird room that’s soundproofed. Five tries to hunger strike but - it’s so quiet. He can hear the sound of his own heartbeat. He can’t stand it. It’s like the room was made specifically to torture him.

(He looks at the little bed in the room. The sheets were dusty. This room has been around for a very long time. He wonders who it’s for, Allison, perhaps? She’s always been fairly obedient, maybe this is the reason why.)

He jumps out on the second day, and doesn’t talk to anybody. Reginald is smug like the cat the got the canary, and Five hates it.

Then Five is messing around, and something slots into place, and he realizes - oh, he might be able to time travel.

Once he figures it out, he’s desperate. He’ll save his siblings that way. He’ll take the to a time where Reginald can’t get them. They’ll be out of reach.

(maybe - maybe they can travel back in time. maybe he can save his mother -)

Five is thirteen-years-old when he time travels for the first time. When he runs out of the house like he’s done so very many times before, except he’s angry and frustrated and he’d tried to bait Reginald into telling him his mother’s dead again and he hadn’t and -

Five jumps. It’s snowing. He did it. He jumps again, laughing. He jumps again -

Ash.

He tries to jump, but his power fizzles out. He calls for his siblings. No one answers. He finds the academy - rubble.

So Five lives in the apocalypse. He tries to go home, he does. He buries his siblings as well as he can. He wanders around gathering food and textbooks. He picks up a mannequin and names it Dolores.

(He searches the rubble of the academy, but he can’t find Doggy or the picture of his mother. Either they were found and removed years ago, or they’re buried beneath too much rubble. Five doesn’t know.)

He takes Dolores on a road trip. He tells her it’s to see if they can find any people, any survivors.

he arrives in a graveyard and traces his mother’s name with trembling fingers. this is the first time he’s been to visit her grave. this is the first time he’s seen her in four years.

So he survives. He grows up, desperately clinging to life by his fingernails. He does complex calculations, wondering what his mother would think of him now.

He meets the Handler. He becomes an assassin.

(he’s glad his mother is dead, so that she will never see what he has become.)

And then one day, he gets home. He falls into the courtyard, and looks at the faces of his grown up siblings and -

(he’s so tired of losing people. he’s so tired of being taken away from his family.)

He hops to Griddy’s, he gets into a fight with assassins, he cuts a tracker from his arm, and he goes to Vanya’s apartment.

And he’s Five, but he’s also Fievel. And somewhere inside he’s still that same kid who loved his mother and wanted her to fix thing, who trusted her even though she didn’t have powers. His mother wasn’t ordinary, and he’s never seen Vanya as such.

So he asks her for her help.

(Later, she tells him that they hunted down his mother when they were fifteen, because they’d been absolutely convinced he’d just run away and gone back to herno matter how much Reginald insisted he was dead.

That’s when they found out about her death. Her date of death.

“I’m so sorry, Five.” Vanya says, tears in her eyes as the whole family shuffles and looks away.

And Five puts his hand on Vanya’s. “I knew, Van.”

Her head snaps up. Klaus blurts out a what in the background.

Five shrugs, “I’ve known since we were ten. It’s okay.”)

Five sends Vanya to investigate the eye.

(He asks Klaus - “Have you - ”

“No.” Klaus says instantly, shaking his head. He knows what Five is asking.

Five considers that answer, then shrugs. He’s not sure if it would be better or worse for his mother to be one of the ghosts that tormented Klaus. “After I - after, did dad get worse?”

“Yeah.” Klaus says simply, because it’s true.

Five hadn’t been there to jump into the mausoleum and try and shield his brother from invisible enemies.

“I’m sorry.” Five says quietly.

“Me too.”)

Vanya comes back and the eye hasn’t been made yet. Five swears, loudly and at length.

And maybe in another world Five snaps at Klaus and denies Vanya and goes off on his own and ignores Allison but -

In this one, Five was the only kid who not only didn’t care that Vanya was ‘ordinary’ but actively challenged her on it. Who told her in no uncertain terms that he was jealous of her.

(It’s a very different book that comes out.)

In this world, Five shielded Klaus and challenged Reginald. He jumped into the mausoleum and hugged his brother and, most importantly, he chose Klaus over his mother. And Klaus knows that. Klaus has... a lot of loyalty to Five, and even though he’d though for a long time that Five abandoned him... he knows better now and he feels - he feels guilty for doubting his brother. That guilt may or may not manifest in being a bit clingy.

In this world, Allison thought Five was fascinating because he’d been in the real world. He’d been to real school. She remembers him telling her about his mother, about trips to the zoo and the museums and the birthday parties, about sleepovers and playdates and parks.

(She has a daughter, and she takes Claire to the children’s museums and to zoos. She tries her best for her daughter and hears Five’s voice telling stories in her ears. She does her best to be a good mother, she tries so hard.)

It’s a slightly more united family that stands against the apocalypse.

But there’s always something with them, isn’t there?

“Don’t you know?” The Handler says, with her perfect lipstick smile, “I don’t have to win, I just have to take you out of the game. Your weak spot has always been the same, hasn’t it?”

“You don’t have shit.” Five says, unimpressed. “My family is fine.”

“Are you so sure about that, Fievel?”

(Five already chose his siblings over his mother the first time. The choice is... much more difficult the second time.)

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angloie · 3 years

Text

Charms.

(1/?)

> Percy likes to deceive. Lie, manipulate, more lies; it was a part of his job, after all. Annabeth has been deceived. Lied to. Manipulated. She's an woman of many secrets- secrets she'd rather not let anyone know.

> Assassin! Percy x CEO! Annabeth.

> Warnings: Mostly angst + fluff, character death and some violence. Nothing too explicit. Mentions of blood/mild injuries as well as alcohol. (characters are aged up!)

pt. 2 || pt. 3 || pt. 4 || pt. 5

Percy's thumb rule was never do anything he didn't want.

To live a happy and healthy life, that was completely normal; especially for such a laid back guy like him.

Choosing this... rather wild career was something he wanted to do, willingly. Life was short, so why not make the most of it? It was getting awfully bleak with the normal civilian life. After all, no one would believe the nice young man who helped the old man carry the groceries to his car would be someone who killed for a living. A smile so bright that it could give the sun a run for its money and warm sea green eyes could hide so much more than just innocence.

The ceiling to floor windows of his penthouse showed a breathtaking view of the New York skyline, sun moving behind the tall buildings and moon replacing the orange hue. Being an assassin had its perks- despite endangering his life on multiple occasions. The pay was just out of this world. All that cash just to kill off some sleazy politician, or that one corrupt buisness man? Sign him up. Zero hesitation.

Percy frowned at the dried blood on his once pure white gloves. He was quick to peel them off. He shuddered at the unsightly view of a small stain of blood on his onyx-colored suit.

He would just buy a new one later. Small things like that didn't matter. Sure, that might've been a gift from one of his clients, but it wasn't anything he couldn't replace.

Hanging his coat on the rack beside the wide entrance, he sighed with clear tiredness. One night of forced politeness and smiles took a toll on him- Also due to the fact that he had just done his job as an assassin. It wasn't what you could call easy.

His muscles were aching and sore in all the worst places, every move throbbing with full pain. The shallow slash on his lower abdomen had soaked his shirt in a dark crimson red, most likely going to leave a bad stain. He would have to clean that later.

The penthouse was big and rather spacious. White Walls and abstract paintings lined them, reflecting off the almost pristine marble floors. It took a while for Percy to get settled in, it being a huge place and all that. But he soon made it feel like home with the help of old picture frames that held memories and the Nemo stuffed animals resting on the leather couch.

“WOOF!”

And Mrs. O'leary.

Mrs.O’leary- a huge, slobbering dog with thick black fur- bounded towards him in a frenzied greeting. She hopped up on her hind legs to lick his face, tail wagging at a unmatched speed. She barked again, this time more quieter.

“Yeah, yeah. It's nice to see you too.” Percy laughed as he tried to pull away. Once he went to the kitchen to grab a bone-shaped treat. “Who’s a good girl?” He cooed, tossing the snack in the air. Mrs.O’leary jumped up to snatch it before barking and padding away. Her tail still wagged with elation.

When Percy first moved here, it was quite nerve-racking. He'd heard that this place was an especially good spot for people like him- meaning people who did some illegal activity. Well, that was what he assumed. Percy was 99% sure that his neighbor just in the penthouse below him, (Leo was it?) had to be involved in some sketchy stuff. That creepy smile of his with a mysterious staining his shirt never meant any good. Or maybe when his other neighbor, had a odd looking duffel bag slung across his shoulder. Oddly human shaped, maybe. With a horrible smell of something rotting. Percy recalled introducing himself a Nico DiAngelo. A pretty reserved and quiet guy, usually having a frown of his face. Well, other than that time when he had his boyfriend over, a sunshiney guy with sun-kissed hair. He never got the chance to catch his name.

Wrapping a white cloth around his wound, Percy's met with a sense of familiarity. Fixing his own injuries by himself. It would bee nice to have some help once in a while, but that would mean exposing him. He's definitely not ready to risk that.

Other than his boss and a couple of really close friends, no one knows about this. Percy nearly slipped up once- when a old companion from high school came over to visit, and his small arsenal of weapons were revealed. The little compartment hidden behind a painting. Not another word wasmsaid about it. Percy made up some half-assed excuse about auditioning for a movie so they were fakes.

It didn't take much of a expert, but the were far from fakes.

His phone rang from beside Percy, making him jolt in surprise. The contact name made him smile just the tiniest bit.

"Hey, mom," Percy began. "Why'd you call?"

"Can't your mom check up on you once in a while? How are you?" Sally beamed, cheerful voice on speaker mode.

He walked over to the bathroom where he stood in the full length mirror. A hint of blood seeped through the white bandage; now full wrapped. "Good. How's Paul and Estelle doing?" He asked.

"They're doing great! Me and your step dad went out with Estelle yesterday to see the movies." Sally smiled. "Estelle is growing into such a energetic ball of energy." She joked. "Just like you."

"Is that so?" Percy laughed, splashing his face with water. It felt cool on his skin, causing tiny pricks of coldness to pop up all over.

For a while, him and Sally conversed. She told him about her day (mostly gushing about Paul and Estelle) while Percy smiled and listened. He did his best to hide the fact that he'd been fixing up his wounds in silence. He cursed silently in pain when he touched an sensitive spot on the slash.

"Percy? Are you alright?" Sally asked in concern.

"Yeah! I just... hit my elbow. Its nothing. " He hastily replied.

"Okay," Sally exclaimed in relief. "By the way, when are you going to visit your old woman? Estelle misses you, you know."

"Yeah, well tell her I miss her too." A sense of gloom over took the conversation. "Look, I'm busy now but..." Percy looked over to the mirror again. "I'll call you later. Maybe I can visit you guys over there soon." He exhaled.

"We're looking forward to it! Isn't that right, Estelle?" Sally gave the phone to the little girl who was jumping with excitement.

"Come over soon Perce!" She garbled. It sounded like she was eating something halfway.

"I will. Talk to you later, 'Kay?"

"'Kay!"

A wave of guilt overwashed Percy as soon as he ended the call. It was killing him inside, to not be honest with them about his real job. They just thought he was a simple marine biologist who got one hell of a promotion. Yeah, he wished. That seemed easier than killing for a living. He was going to tell them sooner or later. He just had to. Not today- not anytime soon, that is.

Jolting himself out of his thoughts, Percy's phone rang. He was quick to answer it. Was it Sally calling again? Percy put down the metal spoon he was holding, letting it rest in the pot of soup bubbling on the flat stove.

“Hey, Percy!” The horribly familiar voice rang from the other side of the line. Percy grimaced.

“What is it?” He groaned.

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” He tsked. “But I have news for you!”

“Do tell,” Percy muttered and went back to his soup.

“I have a mission.” Apollo grinned widely. “You up for it?”

“Again? Didn't I just do one yesterday?” Percy rolled his eyes. He was tired; completely tired. Usually the missions weren't this close together- sometimes they could be even months apart.

“Yeah, but this one won't happen for a week or so. And it ain't just the typical mission.”

“Yeah? And what's that?”

“Its a info operation. Meaning-”

“I know what that means!” Percy interjected. “Just tell me the details already. I’m hungry.”

“Jeez, okay mr. grump. Annabeth Chase. You know her?” Apollo said, scoffing at Percy's tone.

“You mean the owner of that one architecture company? What about her?” He asked.

“She’s connected with Thalia Grace and Luke Castellan.” Appolo explained. “Apparently people have been talking about their new heist that they're planning. By what I've heard, it's going to be huge.”

Those three names- Thalia Grace, Luke Castellan, Annabeth Chase. Annabeth especially, was the most well known in the regular world. Her being the stoic founder of Athchase as well as being a crazy rich and famous person, that's a no brainer. Luke and Thalia, on the other hand, their heists were well known anywhere. Annabeth didn't have a criminal record of any sorts. That's a big reason she can keep up her reputation. It's not like the woman did anything wrong, its just that... the fact that she is connected with the two is enough to ensure suspicion. Growing rumors of her planning some of their crimes were spreading fast. Percy's heard of things like that, her being the mastermind of killing and stealing.

“Alright," He nodded. "Im interested. Go on."

“New York. That's where the three plan to meet up. Get information, maybe use your charms into getting her to trust you."

"N-new york..!?" Percy was left shocked at that.

"I've booked a flight there. 5 in the morning sharp tomorrow. I reccomend you arrive on time." Apollo chuckled.

"Yeah, whatever."

"And Percy?" He called out.

"Hm?"

"You have my full permission to kill Annabeth when you're done." Apollo darkly said, hanging up without another word. Percy rolled his eyes for the tenth time on the call.

Well, all right.

Next destination: New York.

"So, New York, huh." Annabeth swirled some of her cocktail in the glass, circling her wrist in a rotation. The blue liquid swirled together in a repetitive motion. Sapphire Martini tasted rather bitter on her tounge, but decent nonetheless. She enjoyed the slight orange twist.

"Why here of all places?" She asked.

"Its a golden opportunity, dear Annie. The Olympians only gather once in a blue moon, so we're going to make the most out of this!" Thalia sipped from her own glass, some regular red wine. She'd never had such a taste for 'Those fancy rich drinks'. Whatever that meant.

The Olympians, as Thalia said before, were a group of 12 of some of the wealthiest and prestigious people from across the world. Only a few select people could be a part- it was exclusive as to anybody who was just normal as a couple million rich. New York would be holding a auction quite soon on a famous opera house; and surprise, they would be there.

"Don't call me that." Annabeth winced at the name. "And who exactly is we?"

"Don't go all acting like you didn't agree, alright? Plus, you can gain a thing or two from all this." She grinned.

"I have a company to run, Thals, You know very well that I dropped that type of business years ago." Annabeth shook her head. "This is seriously risky."

"But you love that. Don't you?" Thalia pressed, standing up.

She truly did. The thrill, the rush of energy you couldn't get anywhere else. Thats what had driven her to join Thalia and Luke in the first place. That feeling alone made her eyes sparkle with desire.

"Yeah." Annabeth places her drinkdown back on the glass table. "I do."

Okay I'm back with some more hot garbage!!! here's my latest thing-- a assassin au. I need to do a ship other than percabeth tho 😔😔

#percabeth fanfic #percabeth oneshot #percy x annabeth #percabeth #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #pjo oneshot #annabeth pjo #pjo fluff #percabeth angst #percabeth fluff #annabeth chase #pjo thalia #thalia grace #jason grace #grover underwood #percy and grover

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

Domesticated

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut, language, some mentions of cheating (but not with the main pairing)

Word Count: 19,922 (I might break this up later on)

Summary: Marriage was something Y/N had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. But now, ten years later, she’s married to her college sweetheart, but their relationship isn’t entirely perfect. There’s the issue of her new boss, aka her ex-boyfriend Seo Changbin, and Chan’s younger brother Felix who insists on calling her Medusa. Yet, through it all, Y/N is positive she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Notes: Y'all are really out here sleeping on husband Bang Chan and I won’t allow it anymore. Because Chan is 100% husband goals.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I slowly exhaled after disregarding my somewhat passable resume, courtesy of one of those sketchy website builders, to look at the interviewer who waited for my response, pen poised over his expensive notebook. I swallowed hard as I struggled to compose myself under pressure. Because there was a professional answer somewhere in the back of my useless brain, but a dozen other responses, far more honest than his expectations, were waiting on the tip of my tongue.

Such as:

Waiting at home for my husband because all I do is stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until he walks through the door. I kinda miss when we were in college and could see each other sporadically between long lectures, grabbing lunch at the Wendy’s on South Campus. Now, the most exciting thing that happens is the occasional blow job before we pass out on the worn mattress in our master bedroom.

Sometimes Chan will host dinner parties at the house for his expensive doctor friends. He won’t spare me a single glance while I rush to fill glasses with rich-tasting wine, keeping an eye on Han Jisung because he can’t take more than three refills before he’s trying to dismantle the house. I’ll also have to ignore the really old surgeon who Chan admires because he likes to touch my ass when I pass through the living room. Maybe I was suited to be a sugar baby in another life.

On the rare occasion when Chan actually uses his cock, he’ll pant in my ear the entire time because he’s worn out from long hours at the hospital. Chan will cum before me most of the time and I’m lucky if he’s cognizant enough to eat me out so that I can finally fall asleep from my post-orgasmic haze. Heck, I’ll even take his fingers on my clit if it means an assured eight hours of sleep.

Shit, I miss being young.

I cleared my throat, deciding on the professional answer because I highly doubt Seo Enterprises wanted to hire a desperate housewife.

I was sprawled out on the couch in our living room when Chan came home that evening. I barely acknowledged his rushed greeting, watching through narrowed eyes as he ran into the kitchen. “Babe,” came his anticipated whine. “There’s no leftovers?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking,” I said, turning over to bury my face in the throw pillows decorating the cushions. It really wasn’t that comfortable since Chan insisted we get the stiff, fancy leather futon as opposed to the appealing sectional that could actually recline.

“You didn’t cook?”

Chan’s voice was closer this time but I still ignored him, sensing an impending headache. “I had an interview.”

“That was hours ago,” Chan pouted.

I sighed loudly. “The interview went great, honey, thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been at the hospital since 5 this morning,” Chan went on, weight dipping beneath the couch at the opposite end. “I didn’t even have time for lunch because Jisung almost fucked up a patient’s IV.”

“Remind me again why he still has a job.”

“Because he somehow graduated from nursing school and has a license claiming he’s qualified,” Chan said. “Plus, he’s my friend.”

“You have shit taste in friends,” I said, protesting when his hand landed a firm smack against my ass.

“Minho tried to wreck the Corvette when he ran out of cigarettes.”

“Minho is loyal.”

“He still wants to fuck you,” Chan grumped. “Ten years after college and he’s trailing after your ass.”

“Darling, you don’t have to be jealous when I’m wearing your ugly ring on my finger 24/7.”

“It was my mother’s!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bang Chan,” I snapped while grabbing one of my support pillows from beneath my weight, launching it at my husband’s head. Sadly, Chan dodged at the last minute, much to my chagrin, smirking as he dug his fingers into my sides, forcing loud, high-pitched giggles as we both unceremoniously fell into the spotlessly clean floor. “Channie,” I groaned as he rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head before deciding to offer me a sloppy kiss with far too much tongue. “You’re fucking gross,” I said, biting at his lower lip in revenge.

“Yeah? Well, you’re fucking sexy,” Chan purred, nuzzling his head between my breasts.

“Stop it, you oaf!” I grumbled. “My period starts tomorrow. My tits have been sore all day.”

“Maybe I should have a look,” Chan teased, a free hand working loose one of the buttons on my shirt.

“And what good will that do?”

“Well, I am a doctor.”

“You just want to see my tits so you have something to jerk off to in the shower tonight.”

“Shower with me then,” Chan suggested. “I’ll fuck you against the wall.”

“Will you have the stamina?” I questioned. “You poor thing, how can you get it up when you haven’t eaten all day?”

Chan frowned at my mocking tone. “Are you turning down my cock?”

“You’re only half-hard,” I said, lifting my thigh against the tight bulge of his scrubs.

Chan let out a sigh, but his smile was endearing. “What if I order takeout? Then we can fuck in the shower.”

“Channie,” I cooed. “You always know how to talk dirty to me.”

I stand by my belief that email was now an archaic form of communication, but the number of big businesses that forced their employees to make an account @ their company name was ridiculous. But if I wanted to find a job in this big ass city, then I needed to play by the rules. Surprisingly, my most recent application was progressing with far more success than I could have anticipated, and I had read over the new email from Seo Enterprises at least half a dozen times:

Dear Mrs. Bang,

Thank you for taking the time to interview with our staff yesterday afternoon. After carefully reviewing your file with our CEO, he has asked us to schedule one last consultation. Please let us know your earliest convenience.

“That must be a good thing,” Minho remarked, digging his spoon into my ice cream since his bowl was empty and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him.

“I guess,” I said, formulating a quick reply because I really wanted this fancy, high-paying Secretary job. I mean, sitting at home all day was definitely not high on my list of accomplishments.

“What’s the hurry anyway?” Minho asked as he licked his spoon clean. “Bang has enough money that you could just smooch off him for the rest of your life.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I want us to be equals.”

“Wasn’t that the point of marrying a doctor, Y/N?” Minho asked. “Otherwise, you could still be screwing around with me.”

“Except we aren’t 18 anymore,” I pointed out, frowning in his direction. “And says the guy who works part-time at his sister’s pet shop.”

“Hey!” Minho protested, shoving his spoon in my face. “I’m helping the strays. Population control and shit.”

“So what? You’re snipping some dog penises, good for you.”

Minho sat back with a disgruntled sigh. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I’ll bring Chan some lunch since he didn’t get a chance to eat yesterday,” I said. “Interested in accompanying an old friend?”

“Not really,” Minho said. “But I don’t have anything better to do.”

I maintained a long list of places that I truly despised and the hospital was number one. I always tried desperately not to let it show when I visited Chan because it wasn’t really his fault. I had a bad history when it came to hospitals and the memories lingered like the permanent smell of alcohol that Chan brought home with him on his scrubs.

“Did you see that guy in the waiting room?” Minho asked after I checked us in at the front desk. “He was seconds away from bleeding out on the floor.”

“Don’t talk about blood,” I shivered, hurrying to the elevator while frantically hitting the corresponding floor number.

“This reminding you of Freshman year?” Minho asked since he was a total airhead and missed out on the memo where I specifically told him to keep his mouth shut about that stupid Frat Party.

“There are five reasons why I hate hospitals,” I said, holding up my hand in front of his stupid face. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“Is Freshman year one of them?”

“Shut the hell up, Minho.”

A quiet chuckle resounded through the empty elevator while I impatiently waited for our stop. “You’re feisty today,” Minho remarked once the doors reopened.

I ignored the nasty linoleum floors, heels clicking with every step I took in the direction of Chan’s office. “I’m eating with Chan and then we’re never coming here again.”

“Agreed,” Minho said, keeping pace with me while cringing at the gurneys being pushed through the hallways at an alarming rate.

We had almost made it to the end of the floor when I heard a lazy voice call out my name from one of the surrounding rooms. I closed my eyes because I could recognize that voice anywhere since it basically haunted my worst nightmares. He might not know it yet, but Han Jisung was the last person I wanted to run into because maybe, just maybe, he was one of the five reasons why I hated this place.

“Guys!” Jisung gushed, smiling brilliantly. “I’d hug you but I just finished cleaning piss off the floor.”

“Jesus, Han,” I said, wrinkling my nose against the overpowering smell of ammonia. “Is Chan in his office?”

“He was supposed to meet with our new superintendent,” Jisung said, grinning like a complete idiot when he shoved his gloved hands towards Minho who now looked a few beats away from losing his ice cream.

“You’re really pushing your luck today,” Minho growled at him.

“The meeting room is the last room on the right,” Jisung said, finally proving to be useful for once in his life.

I grabbed Minho’s arm because he was close to decking Jisung in the face and I didn’t need the security guards to tell Chan that I let my best friend attack one of his nurses. “Come on,” I said, urging him away from the potential crime scene.

“He’s this close to finding himself with a bloody nose,” Minho complained. “You know what’s funny? I’m pretty sure Han Jisung wouldn’t even know how to help himself.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, straightening the collar of my blouse as I peeked in through the tight blinds obscuring the glass wall of the room Jisung had indicated. “There’s Chan...” I started, trailing off when I noticed that he was engrossed in deep conversation with an unfamiliar woman.

“Oh, she’s really hot,” Minho remarked, wincing when I shoved my elbow into his chest.

“Commentary is not necessary,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I tapped my foot against the floor. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Minho teased and I swallowed my pride, trying to ignore the way she reached out to touch Chan’s arm.

Thankfully, Chan finally noticed me outside, offering me a cheesy wave which I refused to reciprocate as he said something to the woman. I waited outside the door, attempting my best stern expression even if Chan completely ignored my efforts, encasing me in his powerful arms. “Y/N,” he cooed.

“Chan,” I choked out, struggling against his strength.

Minho snorted at the display. “I’m going to find the cafeteria. Text me when you wanna leave, Y/N.”

I waved him off once Chan eventually released me. I sucked in a few grateful breaths while holding up the takeout bag I had brought. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

Chan nodded, reaching for my hand. “Sorry I took so long, I was meeting with the new superintendent.”

I pursed my lips at that revelation. “She doesn’t look old enough to be a superintendent.”

“She’s around my age,” Chan said and I frowned because that just made everything worse.

The hospital’s staff room was small, the smell of coffee heavy in the air as Chan closed the door behind us. “Nobody should come in.”

“Good,” I said, choosing the only table that looked halfway clean before sitting down with a sigh. “I brought you lunch.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Chan said, gratefully accepting the bag from me while he sat down on the remaining chair. I glared at him from across the table, watching as he dug into the cheap Japanese like it was his last meal on earth. “Is something wrong?” he asked over a mouthful of noodles. Something college Chan would have never done when we first started dating, but I suppose that’s what you get with marriage.

“I saw you were pretty close with your new superintendent,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Chan replied cheerfully, stuffing even more food into his impossibly wide mouth. “She’s super smart. Like, Harvard graduate smart.”

“Of course she is,” I murmured. “Do you like her?”

“As a boss I guess,” Chan said, still horribly naive to the real problem. I cathartically drummed my fingernails against the surface of the table.

“Are you coming home early tonight?” I asked him. “I’ll fix your favorite.”

Chan’s eyes lit up because, despite the food sitting right in front of him, he always got excited at the prospect of another meal. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’ll put the good whiskey on ice.”

Chan sat back with a dramatic groan. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Where is all this coming from?”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I said, taking on a dismissive tone.

Chan grinned. “Do you want something, sweetheart? You know I’ll buy you anything.”

“No reason,” I chirped. “I just want you to remember how good am I to you.”

“Of course I know that,” Chan said, reaching across the table to squeeze one of my hands. “I didn’t just marry you for your beautiful face.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met,” I reminded him cheekily, enjoying the way his ears grew red. “Should I do a reenactment?”

“That’s not necessary,” Chan said, quickly dismissing the topic. “Did you hear back from your interview?”

“Oh I did,” I said. “They want me to come in and meet the CEO.”

“What for?” Chan scoffed, returning back to his meal.

“Well, I am taking on the secretary position,” I said. “Maybe he wants to make sure I have good phone etiquette.”

“Yeah?” Chan grumbled. “Or, he wants to make sure you look pretty for him so he has something nice to look at all day.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked him because I loved it when Chan got possessive.

“I don’t want some rich bastard drooling over my wife,” Chan said, chopsticks clenched tightly between his fingers.

“Yeah? Well, it works both ways, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Chan,” I sighed. “Your superintendent was totally flirting with you.”

Chan put down his chopsticks, eyeing me cluelessly. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was,” I immediately countered, reaching down for my purse. “I watched her the entire time.”

“Were you spying on me?” Chan asked with a smirk.

“Minho’s probably waiting for me,” I replied instead, smoothing down my skirt as I stood up from the table.

“Don’t you think that’s too short?” Chan asked, pointing at my lower section as if personally offended.

“Work hard, honey,” I grinned, leaning over the table to peck him once on the lips, offering a cheeky wave on my way out the door.

My palms were sweaty and, despite my repeated attempts to wipe off the nasty residue on my skirt, the condition persisted. Hyperhidrosis, Chan might tell me, nerdy glasses falling down his nose. I grinned at a distant memory, one of the first dates I ever had with Chan. A younger, less confident version of my husband, frantically peeling his suit jacket from his body, complaining about the heat in the restaurant, only to cower moments later when he realized his armpits were totally drenched.

“Mrs. Bang?”

I looked up at the young man bowing in front of me. “Mr. Seo will see you now.”

I nodded, holding my tongue before I let the intern know that he sounded just like a passage from Fifty Shades of Gray. Oh, shit, what if I was about to meet Christian Gray in the flesh? Some sort of young, hot billionaire with the world at his feet, buying up other companies like they meant absolutely nothing.

It was a believable scenario, and I don’t know how I managed to get my feet to work, but I followed the intern with exaggerated steps. “The boss has been looking forward to this,” the intern told me, pausing outside the office door.

“He has?” I wondered, glancing around the grandiose lobby. Did I really make that much of an impression?

“You can go in now,” the intern smiled, politely holding the door for me as I wordlessly walked inside.

Of course, I was expecting something extravagant, considering the layout of the lobby, but I was still deeply impressed by the spacious, but oddly cozy interior. Could you really call this room an office? Considering how massive it was in size. I mean, was it really necessary to basically live in an apartment when you arrived to work every day? Complete with stylish hardwood floors that looked like something out of an edition of House and Home magazine. I’d bet my entire life’s savings that the CEO hired some kind of fancy architect to design the place because those engravings on the mahogany walls were quite difficult to achieve. “It’s nice isn’t it?” a disarmingly familiar voice asked, and I found the dark figure leaning against the desk in the center of the room, sleeves rolled up to show off his impressive arms. “I was surprised to see your application, Y/N.”

Fuck, Christian Grey would have been way better.

“Changbin?”

He met me halfway across the room, now completely visible beneath the low hanging lights, tan skin washed with a comfortable glow. “Shocked?”

“You could say that,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was 18 again in college, lusting after the object of my affections.

“Have a seat,” Changbin offered kindly, extending his arm towards the matching armchairs neatly tucked around the electric fireplace.

“Okay,” I nodded, unable to take my eyes off Seo Changbin as I stumbled over my heels like a complete lovestruck teenager meeting her musician idol for the very first time.

But, holy fuck, Changbin looked good. Why the hell did he not age or turn prematurely gray? I held back a whimper, eyes looking everywhere around the room except at Seo Changbin. How did I not put two and two together when I first got the notification for the Secretary position at Seo Enterprises? I mean, what are the chances that this Seo is my Seo...Or, at least, he used to be my Seo.

“Y/N,” Changbin said, flipping through my file with lazy movements. Where did he get those pants from? They fit him sinfully good, hugging his thighs and if I look close enough, the outline of his...“How are you?”

I startled at the question, drawing my eyes up to meet Changbin’s familiar gaze. “Oh, I’m uh..” I trailed off anxiously, trying to put meaningful words together because he was making the English language harder than it needed to be. “I’ve been alright.”

Changbin smiled and I crossed my legs because that kind of smile could literally drench a girl if he wasn’t careful. “I was really happy to see your name on my list.”

“Were you?” I asked, fingers digging into the cushion of my chair.

“I’m always happy to see a familiar face,” Changbin said. “It’s been a while.”

“College,” I choked out, completely out of mind with anxiety, like the time Minho stole my phone and made me think someone had stolen it, even encouraging me to call the number only for him to hang up every time.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Changbin...”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past.”

“That’s right,” I said, wondering if now would be an appropriate time to snatch my resume out of Changbin’s veiny hands and flee the premises.

“And you’ve married Bang,” Changbin said, pointing to my wedding band. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“Five years,” I said, trying my best to think about Chan and only Chan despite the literal embodiment of my every erotic high school fantasy sitting right in front of me.

“This would be strictly professional,” Changbin said, holding up my resume. “You were our best applicant, but I thought you should know everything about this place before taking the position. Including me.”

“Is that so?” was all I could think to say in return to his unexpectedly thoughtful comment.

Changbin lowered my resume slowly. “The job is yours, Y/N.”

“I’d still have to talk to Chan first,” I said because there’s no way I could just start working for Changbin without Chan knowing everything about the situation. Unfortunately, I could just about anticipate Chan’s response.

“That’s fine,” Changbin agreed. “You can call us tomorrow.”

I allowed a shaky nod, wondering if Changbin knew how much of an effect he still had on me all these years later.

Chan might be one of the smartest men I know, but he was, at his core, just a man who was quite whipped for his wife. Like all men, he was a sucker for lingerie, which is why I slipped on my best matching set, squeezing myself in the little black dress that I knew he really loved.

The hem barely touched the middle of my thighs.

I was also cooking his favorite meal, the smell filling the kitchen pleasantly as I stood at the stove. My plan was quite simple: dress pretty for Chan and surprise him with his favorite food to soften him up. Maybe then he wouldn’t have a complete meltdown when I broke the news to him about my newest employer.

But I still shivered when I heard the door open. “Y/N!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called back to him, attempting several meditative breaths to try and keep myself together.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, freezing in the doorway as he undoubtedly took in the sight of his wife wrapped in a tight black number.

“I’m making dinner,” I said, flashing him an arrogant smile, amused by the way he openly gaped at me while still wearing his oversized doctor’s coat. A result of an excited, freshly employed Chan filling out his form request with sloppy handwriting.

“You look hot,” Chan told me bluntly, eyes glued to my body as he eliminated the space between us with a few quick-paced steps.

“I got the job,” I said, letting out a nervous giggle as I continued to push around the searing bulgogi with a shaky hand. “Consider this a celebration.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Chan said, standing behind me to wrap his arms around my middle, pressing soft kisses to the back of my neck, roaming hands feeling my body. “I guess the CEO liked you.”

A hellish double entendre. “Yeah, he was really nice.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chan said, voice next to my ear. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to get a job or anything. I’m proud of you no matter what.”

Was it his intention to make me feel guilty? “Channie,” I sighed, turning around in his arms. “I have to tell you something.”

Chan cocked a brow. “What is it?”

“The company I’m working for...”

“Yeah?”

“The CEO is someone we know.”

“Is that it?” Chan chuckled, accent thick as those adorable dimples filled out his smile. “Who is it, babe?”

“He used to go to school with us,” I tried, hoping that maybe Chan could just learn how to read my mind and save me the effort of mustering some kind of courage.

“Minho?” Chan teased.

“We’re not exactly friendly with him,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’m not exactly friendly with Minho.”

“You jerk,” I huffed, half-heartedly pushing against his chest. “You really, really don’t like this person.”

“There aren’t many people I really, really don’t like,” Chan said. “Come on, Y/N, just tell me who it is. Are you afraid I’ll be upset with you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Chan’s smile vanished in a minute. “Y/N.”

“Seo Enterprises,” I said. “The company name.”

Realization dawned across Chan’s face. “Are you saying...”

“Changbin,” I murmured, looking down at my feet. “He’s my new boss.”

Chan let out a rough exhale because he knew exactly who Seo Changbin was and I’m pretty sure he associated the name with deep hatred. “Are you fucking serious?”

I winced at Chan’s tone because he had quickly shifted from sweet, caring husband to angry, sinister Mr. Bang in the blink of an eye. “Yes?”

“The Seo Changbin,” Chan reiterated. “The guy you fucked for like six months Freshman year?”

“That would be the one,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze before immediately regretting the decision.

“Why the hell would you take a job as his Secretary?” Chan demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Normally, I would admire the sight of Chan’s arms stretching the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but now I was just intimidated.

“Because I really wanted the job,” I said. “And I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge fucking deal,” Chan said, glaring down at me. “You think I’m okay with the idea of you working for someone you once told me you were, and I quote, definitely gonna marry?”

“But I’m married to you,” I tried, attempting a sugary-sweet tone that usually broke Chan’s resolve.

Except for tonight.

“Yeah,” Chan nodded, “You are, and I told you I would take care of you. I have enough money to support both of us, you don’t need to work at all.”

“Chan, you know I’m not comfortable sitting at home,” I said.

“I get that, Y/N, but Seo Changbin? I could get you a Secretary job at the hospital.”

“Channie, this is a position at Seo Enterprises. One of their biggest assets is New York Publishers! It’s like the perfect opportunity to get my foot in the door.”

“Y/N,” Chan groaned. “I can’t stand the thought of you working for Changbin under any circumstances.”

“I get it, Chan,” I said. “But it’s different than college. I’m married now, and Changbin is nothing more than my boss.”

“Does he really get that?” Chan asked. “I’m putting my foot down, Y/N. I don’t want you working for him, okay? You can call them tomorrow and say you’ve got something better.”

“But Channie!”

“No, Y/N,” Chan growled. “You can look for something else.”

I frowned once I realized Chan wasn’t going to back down. It didn’t matter that I wanted the job or that I had dressed up and cooked for him. For the first time since we met, Chan was refusing to give me what I wanted. “Chan, you really don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

“I’m your husband,” Chan said, justifying his unfair demands with such patriarchal reasoning.

“Fine,” I muttered darkly, ignoring the way his hand reached out for mine.

“Don’t be this way,” Chan said, following me as I marched to our bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. “Y/N!” Chan shouted against the door, knocking loudly on the wood. “This is my room too!”

“Not tonight,” I informed him tersely, opening the door only to harshly shove a spare blanket and pillow at his chest. “Goodnight, darling.”

“This is Y/N,” I said into the phone. “I’m calling about-”

“One moment, Mrs. Bang, we can transfer you to Mr. Seo right away.”

“But you don’t understand...”

“Hello?”

“Changbin!” I squealed loudly into the phone, wincing at my shrill tone.

“Y/N,” Changbin said pleasantly, voice as deep and gravelly as I remembered. “Is this the phone call I’ve been waiting for?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, making myself comfortable at the kitchen counter since I was a notorious pacer when it came to difficult conversations. “It depends on what you’re expecting.”

“I’m expecting to hear a confirmation,” Changbin said. “This is a perfect position for someone with your qualifications.”

“I know,” I groaned. “But I’m calling because I can’t take the job.”

“Really?” Changbin asked. “Can I ask why?”

“Chan isn’t comfortable with the idea,” I said.

“Is that so?” Changbin inquired, innocently enough. “I hope it isn’t because of college.”

“T-that’s not entirely why,” I stuttered because Changbin was apparently intuitive now that he owned some big, fancy company.

“I hope not,” Changbin said. “It wouldn’t be fair of Chan to keep you from a potential opportunity because of something like that.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” I said. “I haven’t had a job in a year. My last position was really good, but the company went bankrupt and I was laid off, so I’m just trying to be careful.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that here, Y/N,” Changbin said. “This is a great opportunity for someone looking for a fresh start.”

Did he read my Facebook bio?

“I’m sure it is, Changbin, but I can’t do something that would make Chan uncomfortable.”

“But he’s not the one taking the position,” Changbin pointed out. “I can assure you, Y/N, you won’t find another position like this.”

“God, you’re good at negotiating.”

“Take the job, Y/N. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I could blame it on my desperation later, but I actually really liked the position. It promised a lot, especially considering the publishing company attached to Seo Enterprises. That would be my ultimate goal, to spend my days reading promising manuscripts while sipping expensive Starbucks coffee.

“I guess I can’t say no.”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday.”

Message to Channie

I took the job. I’m sorry but the opportunity was hard to pass up.

It only took a few seconds for Chan’s contact name to flash across my screen with an incoming call. I muted the sound like a coward, ignoring him completely while I started the ignition to the Corvette. A one-year anniversary present from Chan who was somehow more excited than I was when he first handed me the car key.

I drove to Minho’s apartment because I didn’t want to go home and I really had nowhere else to go. Plus, at least Minho was a reliable friend who really didn’t care if I crashed on his couch while he shoved cheap wine down my throat. In fact, Minho might be glad to see me since he was constantly complaining about his new hours at the shop.

“You look like shit,” Minho commented when he answered the door, standing aside to invite me inside. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it against the wall before slumping down onto the cheap sofa in Minho’s living room. The only piece of furniture he could afford in his ridiculously small New York apartment. “What happened?”

“I took the job with Changbin.”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did? I can only assume Chan is lying somewhere on his deathbed.”

“No,” I snorted. “I took the job even though Chan asked me not to.”

“Savage,” Minho exhaled and I rolled my eyes at him.

“It’s a great opportunity!”

“When do you start?” Minho asked, feet propped up in my lap as he made himself more than comfortable next to me.

“Monday morning,” I said, mindlessly taking the remote to scroll through his limited TV channels.

“And Chan is mad?” Minho repeated, glancing at me for confirmation. “Can you really blame him though?”

“Why?” I frowned.

“I mean, Chan’s been in love with you since high school. He used to trail after you all the time, but you only talked about Seo Changbin.”

“You’re not being a good friend right now,” I said, remembering with perfect clarity the image of a sixteen-year-old Chan, hair untamed and clothes mismatched. Chan was a constant presence in my life, even if I preened after another boy who certainly had no intention of remaining faithful.

“Go home to him, Y/N,” Minho said with far more seriousness than I was used to hearing from my still immature best friend. The same Minho who couldn’t find work for an entire year after graduation because he was too busy sleeping with any woman that walked on two legs, living with various girlfriends while slowly draining his savings account.

“Since when are you the voice of reason?” I grumbled.

“Well, we all have to grow up one day.”

I hated the rare occasions when he was right.

The house was eerily silent when I unlocked the door, spotlessly clean just as I had left it which made me feel bad because it meant Chan didn’t even try to eat anything. “You always make me worry,” I muttered, toeing off my shoes as I decided to check the bedroom.

When Chan had first bought the house, he wanted it to look as close as possible to the random design I had pointed out at the local fair when we were Sophomore students. The plaque had deemed it the “house of the future” and I was enamored with the idea of the future back when my whole life was waiting right in front of me. A big dreamer who was already making wedding plans the moment Chan got down on one knee and proposed with his mother’s wedding ring.

“Channie,” I whispered into the darkness, cautiously tiptoeing my way to the side of the bed where Chan was facing away from me, sheets tucked in around his waist to leave his chest exposed. “I’m sorry.”

Chan let out a sigh. “What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“I hurt you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I took the job with Changbin and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“I fucking hate him,” Chan said, tone bitter and laced with venom. “I hate what he did to you Freshman year and I hate that he was the first person you loved.”

“Chan,” I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I was really young and stupid back then. I should have never slept with Changbin. But he was just a fantasy, even when we were together, and I certainly never really loved him.” I leaned in closer, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ve always loved you first. You mean the world to me and I’m sorry that I went behind your back to work for Changbin. But he’s definitely nothing more than a mistake from a past full of them. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chan shifted from next to me, rolling onto his back. His eyes were looking at me like I was literally his entire world. “I’ll always worry, sweetie. You drive me insane these days.”

I grinned at the use of his pet name for me, reaching out to run a soothing hand along the defined lines of his stomach. “Don’t worry about me, darling, when you’re the one with a supermodel for a boss.”

“Fuck, we’re both screwed,” Chan said. “Does she drive you mad with jealousy?”

“Of course she does,” I said. “She has bigger tits than me.”

“Well, I like your tits,” Chan insisted. “Don’t even think about bringing up plastic surgery again.”

“It would be to your benefit,” I pointed out.

“And the detriment to my savings account. Plus, I don’t want some old bastard fondling your tits while he pumps silicone in your chest.”

“Of all the things to worry about,” I sighed. “Does this mean we’re okay again?”

“You could probably step on me and I would still thank you for it, sweetie.”

“What if I sit on it instead?” I asked, moving my hand down to squeeze his flaccid cock.

“Makeup sex?” Chan gasped. “You don’t have to sell yourself out like this, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to,” I said while proceeding to straddle his waist, smirking when Chan’s hands instantly moved to my hips. It was almost like a magnet, the reaction automatic after years of marriage. “You’re already hard,” I teased, reaching back to palm him over the sheets.

Chan always slept in boxers which I certainly appreciated because it made the rare nights of our passionate lovemaking even more accessible. Chan lifted my shirt, groaning low when he saw that I was wearing nothing but a pair of satin panties. “This is why I’m already hard.”

“You don’t see me walking around the house in underwear,” I quipped playfully.

“It’s comfortable,” Chan whimpered, moaning when my hand found the smooth velvety head of his cock.

“Something you never did when we were dating,” I said. “I spent weekends with you in the apartment.”

“Wanted to make a good impression,” Chan grumbled, eyes closed as he rolled his hips in time with my careful strokes.

“So you don’t have to impress me anymore,” I said, glancing back at his cock, hot and heavy in my hand. “But I guess you still do.”

Chan moaned even louder at my words, fingers tightening in my wrinkled shirt. “Don’t make me cum yet.”

“Why not, darling?” I asked him cheekily, twisting my wrist just right, watching as a stuttered gasp fell from between his gorgeous pout.

“Wanna cum inside,” he said, biceps straining as he pulled me closer, kissing me with a desperation that only demonstrated just how gone he really was.

“Yeah?” I smirked, tongue tracing the ridges of his full lips. “I guess you deserve it after putting up with my bullshit all day.”

Chan nodded fervently and the sight was oddly endearing. It reminded me of when Chan and I first met in high school, a nerdy sixteen-year-old boy who had just transferred schools all the way from Australia. He had a thick accent, foreign and rich, just like the untamed mass of curls covering his deep brown eyes. Chan wore thick-rimmed glasses and he had a light dusting of freckles like the main character from Freckle Juice, one of my favorite childhood novels. He was nerdy and shy, sitting alone in the cafeteria at lunch and walking between classes with his shoulders hunched like he was afraid one of those horrible jocks would try to steal his bag again.

“Y/N!” he whined loudly, forcing me out of the memory.

“Alright, Channie, you want inside?”

I sat up on my knees to work down my panties, ignoring the way Chan’s fingers tried to interfere, pulling at the fabric like he could possibly make them disappear any faster. I grabbed the hem of his boxer shorts, teasingly pulling them down his thighs before brushing a kiss across the weeping tip of his cock, precum bitter on my tongue. For a moment, I admired his thick erection, remembering how nervous Chan was the very first time we had sex back before we were even old enough to drink alcohol.

I held his cock as I positioned myself over his lap. “I’ll do all the work tonight,” I said, listening to Chan’s sweet moans the entire time I slowly lowered myself onto his cock, enjoying the way he always filled me so deeply.

“Oh yeah, sweetie,” Chan grunted, hips moving messily as he tried to find a rhythm. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

“Really?” I asked, swallowing down a moan when Chan hit just right, movements growing more and more confident as I returned every thrust. “I thought I was in charge tonight.”

Chan’s hands gripped my waist firmly, eyes wide open as he focused on where we were connected. “I’m always in charge.”

“Definitely,” I said, bracing my hands against his firm chest for balance because I was weak for this version of Chan. A complete contradiction to the one I first started dating, sweetly doting as he did everything in his power to make me happy. An image of a beautifully innocent Chan looking up from his position between my thighs. “It’s good?”

“So good,” I whispered aloud, peppering kisses across the pale expanse of Chan’s creamy skin, laving my tongue against a sensitive nipple which forced a temporary break from his regular tempo.

“Don’t play dirty, sweetie,” Chan said, giving me no warning before he was pushing me onto my back, hovering over me with his irresistible bedroom eyes. His hands spread my thighs wide, giving himself more room to fuck inside, movements growing faster with every step closer to what was beginning to feel like an intense orgasm. I’m talking about the kind that I could feel between my legs for days after I tried to walk straight again. “Do I need to touch you?”

“Fuck, I think you’re doing just fine,” I said. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“You woke up my competitive side,” Chan said, hitting deep like we were suddenly 20-years-old again sneaking quickies between lectures. Back then, Chan could literally fuck me against a wall, my legs wrapped around his gorgeous hips while he knocked the breath out of my lungs. Thank god, Chan decided that college would be his glory years, working out aggressively in the gym until he had muscles filling out the places where he had previously been soft. But I would always miss his pudgy stomach, even if his ass was now something out of a porn magazine.

“Well fuck,” I moaned. “I’ll have to do this more often.”

“I’d do it all the time if I wasn’t working until 3 in the morning at the hospital,” Chan said.

“Good point, should I come in at lunch then? You can lock us in one of the empty rooms.”

“Oh shit, sweetie, you shouldn’t talk that way,” Chan growled and it was one of the sexiest sounds I had ever heard.

“I’m close,” I warned him, digging my fingers in his scalp as his teeth teased against my collarbone.

“Me too,” he said, breaths uneven as he punctuated his words with a series of harsh ruts that sent my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. His fingers found my clit, thumb pressing down hard enough to trigger one of the best orgasms I had experienced in a long time.

I tightened around his stuttering cock, moaning when I could feel his cum deep inside, warm and wet. “Shit, you’re so good at that.”

Chan pulled out slowly, eyes growing wide at the sight of his cum leaking down my ass. “Left a fucking mess though.”

“We can shower later,” I said, grabbing his arm to encourage him to lie down next to me, burying my face against his chest, scarlet-red from the exertion.

“Was the dick that good?” Chan teased, running his fingers soothingly along my spine.

“Your dick is that good,” I replied. “The genetics are strong.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my parents,” Chan said, giggling as I shot him a warning glare. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Mmm, I love you more.”

1 Week Later

Lee Felix is the spawn of the devil and nobody could convince me otherwise. Because ever since we first met, when Chan invited me over to his house for a project, Felix had decided that I was his number one enemy, deeming me “Medusa” because he was enamored with Greek Mythology. But the unfortunate nickname had stuck throughout the years, even when Felix visited our college between breaks, forcing me to sleep on the couch while he shared the bed with his step-brother.

Recently, Felix had just finished his Master’s program for some kind of fancy Philosophy degree that would probably do him absolutely no good in the real world. But Chan was proud of his baby brother, inviting him to stay with us after graduation until Felix could stand on his own two feet. The decision was met by my instantaneous protest leading to an argument that I inevitably lost because Chan was still using Changbin as a winning point. However, even before my employment with Seo Enterprises, Felix was the cause of at least 95% of our arguments and I was not exaggerating in the slightest.

The sound of the doorbell ringing was suddenly a lot louder than I remember. “Death is here,” I said solemnly, ignoring the way Chan scoffed at my claim. I followed behind him somberly as he opened the door, letting out an excited cheer when he saw Felix waiting on the other side. Felix dropped his bag and practically screamed, which would likely wake up the entire neighborhood, jumping into his brother’s arm as the two embraced right in the middle of my foyer.

“Could you be any louder?” I snarled at the younger Bang.

“Maybe I could, Medusa,” Felix shot back, eyes narrowed as he picked up his bag.

“Come on, Felix,” Chan said, nodding at the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Felix nodded, putting on his best smile for his ignorant brother, shoving his bag harshly at my chest as he walked by. “You can take care of that for me, right Medusa?”

“You little bitch,” I muttered, meeting his glare with one of my own.

The only thing worse than going out with Felix was including Han Jisung in the equation. For whatever reason, Jisung and Felix always riled each other up, chugging down alcohol like it was fucking water or something. However, Felix wanted to see Jisung again and Chan never said no to his little brother. This is why I was currently seated next to Chan at a cheesy bar in downtown Harlem, listening to Felix and Jisung try to talk over one another as Chan looked on with fond eyes. The only good part of the night was the fact that even Chan had allowed himself to get a little tipsy which meant he was doing his absolute best to feel me up in public. I always found it amusing, knocking his hand away when his eager fingers started to trail up my skirt.

“Felix,” Jisung whined. “How can you say that?”

“Oi, there’s no way you can put Nickleback and Green Day in the same fucking category.”

I rolled my eyes at the stupid argument, smacking Chan’s hand when he started to finger the waistband of my skirt. “Chan!” Jisung pouted. “Tell him that he’s wrong.”

“Tell the philosophy major that he’s wrong?” Chan asked, accent on full display as he reached out to playfully ruffle Felix’s hair. “You can’t even answer the phone at the receptionist’s desk.”

Felix loved the attention and I hated it when he came over only to occupy Chan’s every waking hour with his never-ending thirst for affection. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it tonight. I cleared my throat, stretching my arms back behind my head because I knew how good it would make my breasts look in the rather low-cut shirt I had chosen for tonight’s affair. I glanced over at Chan, smiling victoriously when I saw the way his eyes had glued themselves to my chest. Even Han Jisung was looking, which would normally annoy me to no end, but I was putting on my best behavior tonight. “Chan!” Felix shouted, trying to regain his brother’s attention. “Did you hear that I scored the highest honors on my research project?”

And just like that, Chan’s attention was redirected to Satan, eyes glowing with pride. “That’s amazing, Felix!”

“I can tell you all about it,” Felix said arrogantly, tossing me a cocky smile which left me absolutely incensed. “The board was so impressed, they offered to publish my results in the University’s magazine.”

“Are you serious, Felix?” Jisung asked which was an even bigger blow because the only two things occupying Jisung’s thoughts were women and alcohol.

So I decided to push my luck, tugging down my skirt before shifting over in the booth to plant myself directly on Chan’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck before nuzzling into his warm chest. “Channie,” I cooed while glaring at Felix from the corner of my eye.

“Do you want something, sweetie?” Chan asked, smile blinding as one hand wrapped around my waist, leaving the other to tease the bare skin of my thighs.

I reached for Chan’s beer, shoving the glass at him because nothing made Chan hornier than thighs and alcohol. “Should I come to see you at work tomorrow? Like we talked about before?”

Chan’s eyes lit with recognition and I smirked victoriously when I felt him grow hard in his tight jeans. “I’d really like that.”

And to seal my victory, I leaned forward to kiss my intoxicated husband, ignoring the sloppy way he reciprocated, breath musty with the taste of beer. Felix growled lowly from across the booth and Jisung let out a wolf whistle at our blatant display. But I was on cloud nine, satisfied to have won Chan’s attention because it meant Felix was going to be quite unhappy for the rest of the night.

“Medusa, aren’t you going to make me breakfast?”

I groaned as I glanced over at the alarm clock which informed me that it was only 9:00 AM. “Fuck, Felix, go back to sleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” he whined, reaching across the bed to tug on my arm.

“It’s Saturday,” I hissed, barely clinging to the wonderful promise of more sleep which would do wonders for my hungover state.

“Chan wouldn’t be happy with you,” Felix reminded me. “Should I call him at work?”

“Get out of here you little maggot,” I snapped. “I’ll fix you some damn breakfast.”

“Now!” Felix ordered like he had every right to make demands of me, but I didn’t want Felix to say anything to Chan because that would only lead to another needless argument.

“You’re a fucking menace,” I said, throwing off my bedsheets while briefly mourning the loss of my precious sleep. But I don’t want anyone to ever say that I was a bad wife, especially when I put up with Lee Felix just to make Chan happy.

Felix was already seated at the counter when I finally drug myself out of my bedroom, groggily reaching for a clean pan from the cabinet. “You get eggs and bacon,” I told him. “I’m not a gourmet chef.”

“Whatever,” Felix said, ignoring me completely in exchange for his cell phone. Which Chan was now paying for to help “lessen Felix’s financial burden.”

“Chan,” I remember telling him. “You’ll spoil him if you keep doing things like that. He’ll never want to leave!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Chan had shot back as if the idea of living with his younger brother for the rest of our married life was perfectly acceptable.

“A million things,” I muttered now, cracking one of the eggs against the side of the pan.

“I hear you’re working for Seo Changbin,” Felix abruptly spoke up, and I could practically feel his eyes on me. “He cheated on you, right?”

“It’s really none of your business,” I informed him brusquely, grabbing a spatula while wondering if I could teach Felix a lesson if I hit him a few times.

“My brother isn’t happy,” Felix continued as if my warning meant nothing to him. Probably because it didn’t. “I think it’s a bad idea, but your satisfaction always comes first, right?”

“Why the fuck did Chan tell you this?” I gritted out while aggressively slamming the fridge closed, pack of bacon gripped tightly in my hand.

“He tells me everything,” Felix said smartly. “Because he trusts me.”

“Good for you,” I huffed over my shoulder. “I’m glad you have such a close relationship with your brother.”

“Jealous?” Felix taunted, expression smug when I roughly placed down a glass in front of him.

“Is orange juice, okay?” I asked him in a faux sweet voice.

“It’s fine,” Felix shrugged. “But whatever is most inconvenient for you.”

“What a sweet little boy you are,” I said, pouring him a generous amount. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

“Chan says I can stay for as long as I want,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “Two Bangs are better than one.”

“That’s right,” Felix said brightly, taking a sip from his glass. “Ugh, does this have pulp in it?”

“Drink your fucking orange juice, Felix!”

The invention of video games was a godsend because they could occupy Felix’s attention for hours, leaving me in relative peace as I tried not to let him destroy every last bit of my resolve. I was currently having a bath alone in the sanctity of my bathroom, shoulder-deep in soothing bath salts which I kept well-stocked in the cabinet underneath the sink. The aroma was pleasant, sending me to a place somewhere far away to where Felix’s were strictly prohibited.

For the entirety of the day, Felix had been doing his best to get on my nerves. I cooked him breakfast and lunch, cleaned his disgusting laundry, and even held my tongue when he requested I drive him to the mattress store because the guest bedroom was unsatisfactory. But it had always been like this between us, ever since the day I first met Felix and tried my best to make a good impression. Unfortunately, Felix idolized his older brother, deeming any girl unworthy of his time and efforts, including myself. Of course, above anyone else, Felix thought I was the worst possible choice, reminding me every second that his brother deserved someone smarter, richer, and prettier.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated loudly on the edge of the bathtub and I hesitantly glanced at the screen, half-expecting to see Felix’s name displayed like a caution sign. Surprisingly, it was Chan who had sent me a message to ask where I was, which meant Felix had lied through his teeth and said I’d gone somewhere.

To Channie

Bathroom.

It was only a moment or two later when the door opened and Chan stuck his head inside, offering me a pleasant smile as he locked the door behind him. “You’re home early,” I remarked, vacantly staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s Saturday night,” Chan reminded me. “I thought the three of us could go out to eat.”

I groaned in protest. “What about takeout?”

“You love going out,” Chan said. “I’ll even let you pick the restaurant.”

“I have way too many problems right now,” I said. “I’m avoiding them by staying in the water for as long as I can.”

“Sweetie,” Chan said, taking a step closer. “You should’ve waited for me.”

“Why?” I asked him airily. “You’re one of those problems.”

“Me?” Chan asked, choosing to sit down on the edge of the tub. “What did I do wrong?”

“No arguments tonight,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all day.”

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Chan asked, reaching down to flick a trail of water in my direction. “I was in surgery for 6 hours today.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve dealt with Felix since 9 this morning.”

“Ah,” Chan sighed. “I figured it had something to do with my brother.”

“Just forget it,” I whined. “You know we don’t get along.”

“I do know that,” Chan said. “But I wish you both made a better effort. We’re family after all.”

I shivered at the idea of Felix belonging to any family of mine. “You can keep him on your side, then. I grew up as an only child, look at how much better I turned out for it.”

“You told me you had imaginary friends growing up because you were so lonely,” Chan teased.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “That’s sensitive information that I told you in confidentiality. You should know all about patient-doctor confidentiality. Didn’t you have a whole lecture on it?”

“Y/N,” Chan lightly chastised, reaching for a towel on the rack next to the counter. “Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour.”

“You’ve condemned me to death,” I complained, watching through lidded eyes as he stretched out his arms.

“I’m serious, Y/N, at least try to get along for my sake.”

“That’s all I ever do,” I muttered to his retreating form.

Hwang Hyunjin is a willing accomplice to the devil himself who never misses an opportunity to throw out some lascivious comments about my appearance. He was Felix’s best friend and partner in crime, sharing his goal of making my life as miserable as possible. He was also coming out to eat with us tonight and no matter how much I whined to Chan, he remained adamant that Felix should spend some time with his friends. “He’s only young once,” Chan told me, ignoring the way I glared at him with every ounce of hostility that I could muster.

“Did you paint those pants on, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked the minute he sat down in the backseat next to Felix.

“I did, actually, thanks for the unnecessary observation,” I told him shortly, still focused on the staring contest I was having with Felix in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t mind her, she’s probably on her period,” Felix said and I took in a deep breath because I was very close to turning around in my seat to choke the life out of Felix’s pencil neck.

“How have you been, Hyunjin?” Chan asked, one hand on the steering wheel as he calmly navigated us through the permanent traffic of New York.

“I applied for a job with Amazon,” Hyunjin replied. “I don’t wanna brag, but I definitely nailed the interview.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered under my breath. Hyunjin had the worst people skills in the history of mankind. He was almost as incompetent as Han Jisung, but ten times worse because of his sarcastic attitude.

“You’ll get me Amazon Prime for free, right bro?” Felix giggled and I resisted the urge to mock the sound.

“I’m proud of you, Hyunjin,” Chan said. “I know you worked hard.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Hyunjin said. “But the chick who interviewed me was really hot and I think I appropriately swept her off her feet.”

“Big tits?” Felix asked because that’s all those stupid boys cared about.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “But I’m still waiting for you, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Felix scoffed. “You could do better than Medusa.”

“How about some music?” I snapped loudly, reaching down for the radio knob to block out the sounds of Felix and Hyunjin’s voices.

Monday mornings were the worst thing to ever happen to mankind next to Lee Felix. I was sipping at my morning coffee, cold now because Felix had spent way too much time ordering me around the kitchen before I left home. But it was better than nothing and I desperately needed caffeine to get through the day. “Morning, Y/N,” Changbin greeted me smoothly, suit well-pressed and fitted to hug his arms and thighs just right.

“Sure,” I said in reply, trudging to my chair in slow motion.

“Are you always this lively in the mornings?” Changbin remarked, leaning against my desk as he looked through his mail.

“Just on Mondays,” I said, booting up my computer so that I could answer the dozens of emails likely waiting for me, most of which would come from annoying sponsors who wanted Changbin to be on their dumb podcast.

“Well, you still look gorgeous,” Changbin said.

My cheeks flushed at his comment. “You still need to call Mr. Kim back, he’s left another voicemail.”

“Just one call?” Changbin smirked, eyes dancing dangerously. “Have you been scaring everyone off, Y/N?”

“I did just as you asked, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Changbin chuckled, carefully engrossed in his cell phone now as he graciously returned to his own office.

I shivered as I glanced at my computer screen. Changbin was still as notoriously flirtatious as he had been when we were younger. In fact, it might be worse now that he had finally grown into his sharper features which made him look ridiculously attractive. “I love Chan, I love Chan,” I quietly repeated to myself, even as a distant memory suddenly forced itself back into consciousness.

An 18-year-old Seo Changbin walking inside my lecture hall wearing a dark button-up tucked into the tightest pair of skinny jeans he probably owned. Every eye in that lecture room had suddenly turned to him because he was an irresistible force, impossible to ignore. “Y/N?”

Be cool Y/N, I softly chastised myself as I offered him a friendly smile. “Hi, Changbin.”

It was purely coincidental that Changbin had ended up at the same University as me, but that didn’t stop my fragile teenage heart from declaring it as something akin to fate. “It’s been a while,” Changbin said, pulling out the chair next to mine.

I swallowed hard because my mouth was as dry as a desert. “I didn’t know you were enrolled here.”

“It was my first pick,” Changbin said. “My father is an alumnus.”

“Really?” I asked, ignoring the arrival of the professor in exchange for mapping out every single one of Changbin’s gorgeous features.

“This class is just for gen ed,” Changbin said, pushing a hand through his neatly styled black hair.

“Oh, same for me,” I nodded. “I heard it was pretty easy.”

“Is that right?” Changbin asked while flashing me an award-winning smile. Roll out the red carpets because this boy was cool enough to be in an action film co-starring Tom Holland and Ancel Elgort.

But what were we talking about? “I’m majoring in English.”

“Political Science,” Changbin returned. “And Business.”

I deflated a little because, in comparison to my lousy arts degree, Changbin seemed like a certified genius. He would be educated in the art of entrepreneurship and big money while I struggled to comprehend the meaning of Great Expectations. “Have you met anyone else from high school?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “What about you?”

“Well, Bang Chan’s enrolled here too...” I started, only to trail off when I realized that Changbin probably had no idea who Chan was since he never paid attention to him in high school. Actually, Changbin would have been more likely to join the football jocks who liked to steal Chan’s stuff only to tie his underwear to the flagpole outside the gym.

“The nerdy Australian kid?” Changbin chuckled. “That sucks.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage since Changbin obviously didn’t know that Chan and I were friends.

“You don’t hang out with him, do you?” Changbin asked, peering at me closely like I was seconds away from losing the honor of his company.

“We have lunch sometimes,” I said, which was only partially true since I did like to meet up with Chan in the dining hall around 2:00 because it was never crowded. But Changbin didn’t need to know that I had spent the night in Chan’s apartment listening to him record one of his mixtapes because Chan had a newfound interest in music.

“You could do better,” Changbin sighed. “Hang out with me instead. I’ll treat you to the nicest fast food joint on campus.”

My heart was racing, palms clammy as I nodded my head rapidly. “Lunch?”

“Whatever you want, love,” Changbin said, close proximity knocking every rational thought clean out of my head.

It was like my best fantasy coming to life right before my very eyes, and after our lecture ended I asked Changbin to wait for me while I made a phone call to Chan. “Y/N!” came his cheerful voice from the other end. “Guess who got to dissect a liver today?”

I wrinkled my nose at the nasty image. Chan was studying to enter the medical program which meant a lot of his daily life centered around the human body and all sorts of things that could go wrong with it. “Chan,” I whined. “You’re talking to someone who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“I know,” Chan sniggered. “Does this mean you’re not gonna want to eat lunch with me today? You know I’ll pay, of course, I got a raise at the cafe.”

“Well,” I started, desperately searching for the right words. “I actually have to meet with my professor for this essay I’ve been having trouble with.”

“No problem,” Chan said. “I’ll bring you takeout for dinner. Doesn’t your roommate have practice tonight?”

I glanced back at Changbin with a guilty conscience. Why did Chan have to be so sweet all the time? “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“No liver talk, I promise,” Chan giggled and I hung up the phone before he could make me feel even worse than I already did.

“You want to get some lunch?” Changbin asked with his hands dug inside his pockets as he stood in front of my desk.

“Like, with me?” I asked warily because I wasn’t sure where the line stood on professionalism when it involves eating with an ex-boyfriend.

“Who else?” Changbin said. “I figured we could use a break from the phone calls.”

“I don’t know...” I answered hesitantly because Chan would probably lose his shit if he discovered I went out anywhere with Changbin.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” Changbin said. “My job is to make sure my employees are well taken care of.”

“I guess,” I sighed, reaching down for my purse on the floor. “One lunch together won’t hurt anything.”

But Changbin seemed awfully smug, patiently waiting for me to gather my belongings, stuffing my phone with an unanswered text from Chan inside my side pocket. It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against me, doing its very best to try and force me into the worst situations possible. Here’s an irrational thought: what if Chan happened to decide to go out for lunch today? He might find me with Changbin and I couldn’t think of a worse scenario. Of course, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily have to be Chan who finds us. For example, if his younger step-brother was to suddenly wander in the building at this very moment...

“Medusa!”

Curse you, universe!

“Felix?”

“I brought us lunch!” Felix chirped brightly, holding up a picnic basket as he waltzed right up to my desk with far more confidence than necessary.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, unable to process the idea that Felix was standing in the middle of the company’s lobby. “Is it poisoned?” I asked, trying not to alert him to any possible wrongdoing.

Felix ignored me, turning around to face Changbin with a critical gaze. “Seo? Is that you?”

“Felix,” Changbin acknowledged, frowning as if he was the last person on earth he wanted to see, and I could share the sentiment.

“Fuck,” Felix cursed, taking a step back. “You still look really young. I was surprised when Y/N told me you were her new boss.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” I said, opening the flaps of the basket only to let out a disgruntled sigh when I realized he had only brought a bag of chips and a tray of cookies.

“And what are you doing these days?” Changbin asked.

“Freelance work, mostly,” Felix replied as if he really needed to lie to Changbin about his lack of a suitable occupation.

“I forgot what you majored in,” Changbin said. “It was hard to keep up since you changed your concentration like a dozen times.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh, even when Felix sneered in my direction. “Philosophy.”

“Interesting,” Changbin said, nodding his head. “I’m actually surprised to hear that. You never settled on anything.”

Seo Changbin needed to be careful because his charm points were dramatically increasing the more he mocked my husband’s step-brother. “I actually just finished my Masters.”

“Really?” Changbin said. “This coming from the same boy who used to party with Hwang Hyunjin at all the Fraternities, even if they were on a different campus.”

“It was just Freshman year,” Felix defended himself.

“Well,” Changbin started, “I’m glad to hear about your graduation. Y/N and I were actually just about to head out to lunch.”

I winced at his words, withering under Felix’s accusing watch. “Is that so?”

Changbin carefully studied the two of us. “I’ll be waiting in my car, Y/N.”

I grabbed my bag while pushing the picnic basket back in Felix’s direction. “I swear to god if you tell Chan about this, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“We’ll see about that,” Felix growled, and that was the moment I realized that I was treading very dangerous waters.

Changbin drove us to a charming restaurant about two blocks away from the main company building. He pulled right up to the sidewalk, handing his keys to the waiting carhop as if he had done this about a thousand times. But I guess that was pretty likely considering just how well-off he was ten years later. “Impressive,” I remarked to him, reluctantly accepting his outstretched hand as he helped me out of his car.

“Yeah?” Changbin said, offering me a wink. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Seo Changbin,” I told him, bowing slightly to the waiting doorman who kindly ushered us inside.

This was why the pretty girls always lusted after Changbin. When we were both still in high school, Changbin epitomized the phrase #BoyfriendGoals because he was super attractive, incredibly smart, and athletic enough to earn himself a shining record after an impressive baseball season. And I was just as mindless as the rest of the zombies chasing him down in the parking lot at school or squealing his name in the hallways between classes.

“I eat here all the time,” Changbin assured me, flashing the hostess a dazzling smile while handing her his card.

“Right this way, Mr. Seo,” the hostess curtsied, ignoring the long line of waiting patrons who apparently didn’t matter as much as my new boss as she led us to a private table. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, eyes wide as I took in the gorgeous chandelier dropping from the high-domed ceiling.

“Close your mouth, Y/N,” Changbin said. “You act like you’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“Not exactly,” I said because the nicest place Chan had ever taken me was an Olive Garden and that had ended poorly after Chan accidentally knocked his shoulder against a poor server on his way back to the table causing an avalanche of salad and breadsticks.

“Bang should be taking you to places like this all the time,” Changbin commented, perhaps a casual observation to anyone else.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Chan and I prefer to keep things low-key.”

“Should I have taken you to Applebees instead?”

“How funny.”

“I’m kidding, Y/N,” Changbin said, reaching down to adjust the buttons on his coat sleeve. “You’ve changed a lot since college.”

“Since we dated you mean?” I asked with an arched brow.

“Well,” Changbin started, “if you want to think of it like that.”

“Hmmm,” I briefly meditated, studying Changbin’s expression carefully. “How else should I think about it.”

Changbin tsked, raising a hand to signal for a nearby waiter. “I don’t mean to suggest anything.”

The waiter approached our table with purposed steps. “How may I help you, sir?”

“A wine menu?” Changbin asked, nodding generously when the waiter returned with his requested selection.

“You make a beautiful couple,” the waiter gushed while he pulled out a thick leather wallet, flipping to a fresh page.

“Oh! We’re not-”

“-A bottle of pinot noir, please,” Changbin said, returning the menu without bothering to correct the waiter’s observation.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter agreed.

I held my tongue until he was further away, bothering an older couple who were probably complaining about something to do with their food. “Changbin,” I warned him. “You should be careful.”

“It was a harmless mistake,” Changbin said. “How can I possibly come between you and Bang?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth because it sounded less like a dismissal and more like a challenge.

The sun was already setting by the time I returned home thanks to one of Changbin’s business partners who refused to leave the office building until they had a chance to speak to him. I was low on patience, tired from an exhausting day of dealing with telemarketers insisting our company needed the latest software for our clientele. There was only a limited number of times I could tell somebody to fuck off before inevitably shouting into the other end that I was in no way interested in whatever useless product they were trying to shove down my throat, complete with some kind of scammy discount and an opportunity to be represented on their website.

To make matters worse, my feet were blistered from wearing heels all day and my shoulders ached from slouching over my computer to answer emails and monitor the progress of Changbin’s latest project. My only saving grace was the message Chan had sent me earlier telling me that he had already clocked out at work, which meant I could probably guilt him into giving me one of his trademarked messages. I mean, all I wanted to do was curl up next to Chan in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

But it looked like my desires would have to wait because as soon as I unlocked the door to the house, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously walked into the living room to find Chan and Felix busy with some kind of video game on our HD TV, volume high until I walked in the room. Chan waited until I called his name, reaching for the remote to mute the TV before tossing his controller onto the coffee table. From across the room, Felix’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“How was work today?” Chan asked with a tone that I only ever heard when my husband was feeling particularly pissed off about something, and I had a sneaking suspicion it involved me in some capacity.

“It was fine,” I said, deciding to play it safe while I kept my complaints to myself.

Felix smirked in my direction, whistling to himself as he reached for his game controller. “Felix told me something interesting today.”

“Oh did he?” I asked, wondering just how much pain Felix could tolerate if I marched over to him right now and hit him with an umbrella.

“He said he tried to have lunch with you.”

“I was busy.”

“With Seo Changbin?”

Felix was definitely going to die tonight. That little snitch deserved every ounce of punishment I was starting to formulate inside my head. “He invited me out instead.”

“I got that,” Chan snapped and I knew my husband was in a foul mood. I’m talking about the kind of mood that usually sent me scampering for the safety of the bunkers. Like the time some drunk asshole rear-ended Chan’s precious convertible while we were sitting in downtown traffic. Or the time when we were Freshmen in college and Chan confronted Changbin after finding out that he had been cheating on me.

But this time the problem was me which meant I couldn’t just hide from Chan and wait for things to go back to normal. “Honey,” I attempted to reassure him. “It was just lunch.”

“Yeah? But that doesn’t seem like keeping things strictly professional to me, Y/N.”

“He’s my boss now, I can’t just tell him no.”

“Actually, you can,” Chan disagreed, now refusing to look at me. “How would you like it if I ate with my new superintendent?”

“Depends on if she offered to pay or not.”

“Y/N.”

“Chan,” I pouted. “I’m really sorry! He just surprised me.”

“It makes me wonder what else you might be doing with him,” Chan snarked.

Meanwhile, Felix calmly continued to play his video game while wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Are you accusing me of having an affair?”

“Why not?” Chan shrugged. “Since we’re keeping secrets from each other.”

“It was just one lunch,” I shouted. “He’s never done anything like this before. Most of the time I’m alone in the lobby taking his stupid phone calls.”

“And that’s all I should ever hear about,” Chan growled.

“You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes before remembering just how much Chan hated it when I did that to him.

“Y/N,” Chan addressed me sternly, deciding to abandon his seat on the couch to crowd me in the foyer. “If this was anyone else, I wouldn’t make it into a bigger deal, but this is someone you used to fuck while running around campus bragging about it to everyone who would listen...which was usually me!”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. “I already told you that!”

“You’ve said a lot of things recently,” Chan said. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your brother’s fault since he’s always looking to cause a fight between us,” I said, glaring at Felix while he continued to play the part of the perfect little angel that Chan always considered him.

“Don’t drag Felix into this, he has nothing to do with anything!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Chan,” I huffed. “We fight more about Felix than we do about Changbin.”

“Stupid?!”

Oh, Jesus, Y/N, when are you going to learn to watch your big mouth? “Channie, I’m tired of fighting all the time. I feel like we’re always fighting.”

“Yeah? Well, you give me a lot of reasons to stay mad at you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “We never fought this much when we were dating.”

“Is that so? You think our marriage is the problem?”

I froze at his implications. At this point, Felix might as well drag out a bucket of popcorn because this was probably the most interesting drama he had watched all year. “Chan, you can’t honestly believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Chan said, shaking his head. “But maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

“Chan!” I whined, fighting back tears as I watched him turn his back on me. For the first time since we had met, Chan was leaving an argument unresolved, choosing to lock himself away in our bedroom while I struggled to keep myself together in the middle of our foyer.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Felix whispered into the silent room, waving his fingers at me because he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Felix’s birthday often turned into a multiple-day affair because he always wanted the best that money could buy. Since Chan and I still weren’t speaking to one another, Chan was taking the brunt of party preparations which meant Felix was practically over the moon with excitement. And why shouldn’t he be? He hit the metaphorical jackpot because he somehow got me in the doghouse while he soaked up all of Chan’s attention.

“Y/N,” Felix whined. “My toast is burnt!”

“Sorry,” I murmured softly, taking his plate even though the bread looked perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Chan chose not to say a word, heavily engrossed in his laptop and doing his absolute best to pretend I was invisible.

“What about this, Felix?” he asked, tilting his laptop screen so that his brother could see whatever it was that probably cost hundreds of dollars. On the other hand, I couldn’t even find the courage to ask Chan for his credit card so that I could replace the broken stool at our counter.

“That’s perfect, Channie!” Felix grinned, hanging off his brother’s shoulder like the little pest he was.

Our Amazon shopping cart was steadily filling with Felix’s party supplies. But I guess it was just Chan’s account now since he had changed the password without telling me. I tried to order a new curtain for the bathroom, only to repeatedly watch the warning screen pop-up with every refresh of the page. “Who do you want at your party?” Chan asked Felix.

“Hyunjin, Jisung...” Felix started, listing out each name while I winced every time because our house would probably end up completely trashed at this rate.

“Whatever you want,” Chan said, apparently forgetting the last time Jisung came over only to break one of my grandmother’s expensive vases. Since it was my stuff, he probably didn’t care. “I have to leave soon,” Chan said, wordlessly clicking on the ‘place your order ’ button before logging off.

“Will you be gone all day again?” Felix pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and offering his very best puppy dog eyes.

23-years-old my ass.

“I’ll do my best,” Chan promised his brother. “Do you need anything while I’m out.”

“More chocolate cereal?”

10-years-old more likely.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Chan cooed to Felix, ruffling his hair before snatching his coat from my outstretched hand, refusing to even acknowledge my existence.

Felix waited until Chan was gone to lean in across the counter. “You two are so cute, Medusa.”

“I fucking hate you,” I said, aggressively attacking the grease stain on the stainless steel pot I was currently washing.

“Whatever,” Felix shrugged. “Will you ask Minho to come to my birthday party?”

“There’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’m asking him,” I snapped.

“Why?” Felix posed the question as if he felt absolutely no shame. “I like Minho and I want him to be there.”

“Fuck off,” I retorted, drying my hands against the rough texture of the dishtowel.

Felix sniffled, reaching for his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Channie? Yeah, Y/N was being really mean to me-”

“-Jesus, fine, I’ll ask him,” I quickly interrupted the little Devil. “How old are you turning again?”

“24!” Felix grinned.

“Then act like it,” I muttered while dialing Minho’s number.

There were only two rings before he answered. “It’s too early on Saturday for this bullshit, Y/N,” came Minho’s pleasant voice from the other end.

“You sleep too much anyway,” I returned. “I have something to ask you.”

“It better be pretty fucking important.”

“Will you come to Felix’s stupid birthday party this Friday?” I asked him, ignoring Felix’s bright smile as he tried to listen in on our conversation.

“Did you buy booze?”

“I’m sure Chan will buy the little bastard all the booze he wants,” I said, pushing Felix out of the way.

“What time?” Minho asked. “I’m a very busy man, Y/N.”

“The hell you are,” I snorted. “9:00 PM. Don’t be late! I’ll be the pathetic piece of trash sitting on the couch alone.”

“It’s about time you learn, Y/N,” Felix remarked, giggling when I threw the dishtowel at him.

“Still in trouble with hubby?” Minho asked. “I hear you have to stay separated for a year before the courts grant divorces these days.”

“You’re an asshole,” I said. “Should I put you down on the guest list?”

“Of course,” Minho said. “Underlined because I’m a VIP”

I hung up on him before he could dig his grave any deeper.

“Don’t burn that,” Felix scolded me, hovering by my side to play the part of Gordon Ramsay while I sweated my ass off to cook everything on his stupid party menu.

“It’s not burnt,” I grumbled.

“I hope you’re not wearing that to my party,” Felix said, casting a critical eye over my outfit.

I reached down to adjust the waistband of my skirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“This is a classy party, Y/N, and you look like a hooker.”

“Go help your brother or something,” I said, doing my best to be nice since it was Felix’s birthday. I could manage some form of kindness even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Chan’s fine,” Felix waved me off even though I was certain I saw Chan struggling to hang up lights on the balcony just moments ago when I went to change my clothes.

I glanced at the clock above the stove. “Your fellow party animals will be here soon.”

“You’re not cool enough for those references,” Felix told me as he straightened his tie.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I said, wiping my forehead with a nearby towel. My makeup was probably smeared but I didn’t care. Who was I hoping to impress anyway? The only person I dressed up for was Chan and he could care less about my appearance.

And it was only a few minutes later when the doorbell started to ring. I took a deep breath to try and reassure myself that I could make it through tonight without another Advil. “Someone’s here!” Felix squeaked, knocking his shoulder against mine in his haste to answer the door.

“No matter who it is, I’ll still be in hell,” I muttered, closing my eyes when I recognized Hyunjin’s voice mixing with Felix’s.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin sang, poking his head in the kitchen as if he owned the place. “There you are! Looking all pretty for us.”

“That was the goal,” I half-heartedly quipped back, turning off the stove once I declared Felix’s stupid Tteok-bokki cooked enough.

“Your legs look good,” Hyunjin said, abruptly leaning in closer. “Are you even wearing anything under that skirt?”

“Hyunjin!” Felix shouted his friend’s name from the living room. “Come check out the decorations.”

Hyujin blew a kiss in my direction, tossing me a poor excuse for a wink. “Bye, Y/N!”

Maybe one more Advil wouldn’t hurt.

The party was in full swing by the time Minho finally arrived, greeting Felix with some kind of cheesy handshake. It was too late for me and I had already resigned myself to the futon of isolation in the living room, mourning the loss of one of my good dishes thanks to Han Jisung deciding to request something fancier than our regular set. “Sorry, Y/N,” Jisung had apologized. “I’m sure you can easily replace it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my dead grandmother has another lying around somewhere,” I snarled in his direction, ignoring his wide-eyed look of disbelief as I searched for the broom.

Minho eventually finished his conversation with Felix, offering me a sympathetic look while occupying the last remaining chair. “Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” I told him.

“You look miserable,” Minho informed me, throwing up his feet on my glass coffee table even though I had told him countless times before to keep his dirty socks on the floor.

“Chan hates me,” I said. “Felix is happy.”

“Ah,” Minho nodded. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s all Felix’s fault,” I sniped. “He found out I went to lunch with Changbin and told Chan because he knew it would lead to an argument.”

“He still doesn’t like you?” Minho snorted as if the idea were amusing.

“Felix has hated me since the beginning of time. He was brought to this Earth to cause me misery.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Minho said. “Where is Chan, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “If he wasn’t with Felix, then you might want to check the balcony. I think I saw him sneaking the Advil bottle out there earlier.”

Minho snickered. “You don’t even realize it, but you two are grossly similar. I’m sure Chan would have preferred a quiet dinner out somewhere.”

“Well, Felix always gets what he wants,” I said. “It’s been this way since high school.”

Minho considered me for a moment. “In his defense, Chan has always been Felix’s best friend. They’ve been attached at the hip since they were kids, but then you came into the picture. Suddenly, Chan isn’t as interested in spending all his time with Felix any more.”

“Are you saying I need to find Felix a girlfriend?”

“Y/N,” Minho said softly. “I’m just saying, maybe you need to think about things from Felix’s perspective for once. You were an only child, so you can’t understand what it means to share a close relationship with a brother.”

“Hmm, well you’re like a brother to me,” I teased him.

“Ugh,” Minho gagged. “You’ve had my dick in your mouth before, Y/N, please never say that again.”

“I was trying to be sweet,” I said. “But you ruined it.”

“Did I?” Minho smirked, glancing up at something behind me. “Are you having a good time, Felix?”

“We’re out of beer,” Felix interrupted, face suddenly mere inches from mine.

“You shouldn’t drink like a fish.”

“Medusa,” Felix tried again, holding out a ring of car keys. “Make yourself useful and buy us some more beer.”

I rolled my eyes but acquiesced. “Whatever you want, your majesty.”

I hated winter in New York City because the sidewalks were icy all the time and I was constantly in danger of rolling my ankle. Nevertheless, I tolerated the snow and wind by trading my heels for rain boots and wrapping my body in the thickest coat I owned. Normally, I might consider walking to the convenience store, but tonight I knew my fingers would be nothing but frozen icicles if I attempted that perilous journey.

Thankfully, the traffic was fairly light this late at night which allowed a relatively quick drive to the store, parking my corvette at the sidewalk. I walked inside with a muffled greeting to the store attendant, searching down the aisle to where the beer was stocked in the freezers. “He didn’t even tell me what he wanted,” I scoffed, deciding on the expensive Corona from the bottom shelf since Felix always liked things more when they cost a lot of money.

“Having a party?” the store attendant joked, accepting my debit card after ringing up the cases.

“Something like that,” I said, wondering if that was always his assumption if someone bought more than one bottle of the nasty smelling beverage.

Meanwhile, it had started snowing again when I walked back outside, popping the trunk to store the beer until I finally returned home. I switched on the ignition and turned on the heat to its fullest setting before sitting back in my seat to wrap my arms around myself, fighting off a series of chills. The action reminded me of Junior Year when Chan and I used to make late-night trips to the gas station near his apartment complex. We’d buy all sorts of unnecessary snacks, driving back together because we had planned a movie marathon of Harry Potter. Chan always complained about the films I liked, but he watched them anyway because he knew I enjoyed them.

I came to a stop at a red light, frowning when I noticed that nobody was coming in either direction. “Change already,” I ordered the traffic light as if it could possibly accommodate my request.

“I’ll teach you patience, Y/N,” Chan once told me after we waited nearly an hour in a heavy downpour outside the comic book shop because he just had to have some kind of rare edition figurine.

The traffic light eventually turned green and I rolled out into the intersection, never noticing the reckless SUV until mere seconds before it crashed into the side of my car.

I had the worst luck in the world when it came to relationships. First, there was my tired rendezvous with Minho in high school, blowing my best friend in the bathroom because he’d always fuck me with his fingers afterward. Then, there was that slimy bastard Seo Changbin who I willingly gave my virginity to, thinking he was the love of my life. That was before I found out he was cheating on me with some sleazy cheerleader thanks to a couple of photos surfacing on Facebook. My heart was instantly broken, pride in shambles as I spent an entire week hiding out in my dormitory ignoring all phone calls and text messages as I cried over a boy who never deserved my attention in the first place.

I plucked a few strands of grass from the ground next to my feet, savoring the first taste of sunlight I had allowed myself since that unfortunate discovery. Who the hell did Seo Changbin think he was anyway? Playing with my heart like that as if it meant absolutely nothing to him.

At least I wasn’t sad anymore, having spent enough time crying over the destructive boy. Now, all I could think about was smacking that stupid smug grin off his face while thoroughly purging my built-up frustrations...“Y/N?”

I turned around quickly at the sound of Chan’s voice, rising to my feet to brush the loose grass and dirt from my jeans. “Channie,” I said, nervously wringing my hands in front of me. Chan was probably mad at me since I had been ignoring him all week.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, tone surprisingly gentle as he stopped in front of me.

“Not really,” I told him honestly.

“I didn’t think so,” Chan said, features hardening. “I’ll beat the shit out of Seo for you.”

I shook my head. “That won’t do any good.”

“But if it makes you feel better,” Chan said, reaching out to delicately swipe his thumb under my eyes. “You aren’t sleeping.”

It was more of a statement rather than a question, but I still felt the need to reassure him. “I promise that I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Chan said, offering me a kind smile. “I can tell, you know?”

“Yeah you’re good at that,” I groused.

“I’m pretty good at a lot of things when it comes to you,” Chan admitted, eyes holding a pure kind of affection as they appraised me.

“I’m glad I have you,” I said, letting out a sigh as I allowed my head to rest against the center of his chest. “You don’t think I’m stupid for trying things out with Changbin?”

“You’ve always liked him,” Chan said with a bitter tone that sounded more like a jealous lover rather than a friend.

I chose not to say anything. “I hope the two of them make each other miserable.”

Chan chuckled. “Is this your form of revenge?”

“I don’t think it’ll work out in my favor,” I said, pressing myself even closer to Chan, pausing when my hand drug across his stomach. “Holy shit, Channie, you weren’t kidding about the gym.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“Who are you trying to impress?” I grinned, propping my chin against his sternum to make it easier to look into his eyes.

“It’s always been the same person,” Chan said vaguely, dimples on display as he considered me. “I hope Seo didn’t destroy your faith in relationships.”

“It wouldn’t be entirely his fault,” I sighed. “All my relationships have been complete failures.

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, brushing a light kiss across my forehead. “Maybe it’s because you’ve never tried the right guy.”

The memory was laced with something warm, an association that stood in stark contradiction to my current condition, slowly opening my eyes to a pulsing room, somehow much too bright for my pupils to adjust. Was I alive? I wondered because I couldn’t really feel anything which was certainly disarming. But then there was a familiar smell, rancid and burning, and it made me feel like I was definitely not in any sort of happy afterlife. There was also the problem of the blurry figure slowly coming into focus next to me, fiddling with an array of wires twisting together with the sounds of a machine distantly clicking in the background. I watched through hooded eyes as the now perceivable person in question handled an impressively large needle, pinching my skin painfully at the juncture of my elbow.

“Han Jisung,” I began, startling him from where he was checking the IV. “Just put a fucking needle into my arm. What hellish realm have I descended into?”

“Y/N!” Jisung squealed loudly, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss against my forehead.

“What the hell was that for?”

“For not dying,” Jisung sighed in relief. “When you came in, there was nothing but blood and glass everywhere!... Oh, and Chan may or may not have a fine against him for beating the living shit out of the asshole that hit you.”

“Why are you so loud?” I groaned, palming my forehead because the room was still swimming into focus. “What happened?”

“You probably don’t remember,” Jisung said. “It was a pretty bad concussion, but you were in a car accident.”

“I was?” I questioned, struggling to recall anything past a few minutes ago when I first realized that incompetent Han Jisung was sticking pointy objects into my veins.

“Chan was so upset,” Jisung said. “He wanted to do the surgery, but the superintendent wouldn’t let him.”

“Surgery?” I repeated. “I had surgery?”

“Cuz’ of your ribs,” Jisung said quietly as if finally realizing that he probably shouldn’t be saying all this to me at once, especially if the persistent beeping of the heart monitor was something to be concerned about.

“What’s wrong with my ribs?” I asked, somewhat panicking as I felt down my chest, noticing the thick bandage wrapped around my upper body.

“Chill, Y/N,” Jisung placated, reaching around me to adjust the monitor. “Now I can’t get an accurate reading!”

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” I said with a hoarse voice, reaching up to quickly wrap my hand around my throat. “Is there something wrong with my voice?”

“Well, you’ve been out for three days so...”

“Three days!”

Now I was definitely panicking, full-on hysteria as the heart monitor loudly detected the irregular contraction of the muscle thundering aggressively against my chest. It was enough to alert the doctor on duty, walking into my room to check on his patient, scolding Jisung harshly as he filled a syringe with a clear liquid. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said kindly, injecting the fluid into my IV. “Just relax.”

My eyelids fluttered closed, overwhelmed by a disjointed sense of calm that gradually pulled me back under the current of drug-induced bliss.

“Sweetie.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, the best wake-up call in the whole world. I slowly turned my head to the side, taking in the sight of my disheveled husband, eyes blood-shot with heavy dark bags haunting tight circles against his pale skin. “Channie?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Chan sniffled, fresh tears swelling his cheeks as he leaned in closer to grip tightly to my hand. “It’s all my fault.”

I considered him closely, wondering what he could possibly mean by accepting blame for whatever was causing him obvious pain. I faintly remember Jisung telling me about am accident, but it was difficult to really think back any further, like a wall had enclosed around my brain, refusing to allow anything else to come into consciousness. But Chan didn’t need to cry, he was usually the best part of my life, waking up in bed together to share sweet kisses or eagerly waiting for him to come home and swoon over my newest K-Drama obsession. “Why are you sad?” I asked him, reaching out to do my best and wipe away those nasty tears.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Chan cried, heart-wrenching sobs that broke my heart with every heavy inhale. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” I asked, wiping away a few mischievous curls that had wandered into his eyes.

“I found you in the intersection,” Chan whispered. “And the car...” he trailed off with a choking gasp as if the details were too horrific to describe.

“I’m here now, Channie,” I said, desperate to relieve his sadness. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Chan nodded furiously, pressing a wet kiss to the back of my hand. “I can’t lose you like that, sweetie.”

“Well, I plan to stick around for a while,” I said, earning me a half-smile in return. “Channie,” I whispered, glancing around the room conspiratorially. “Is there anything good to eat in this place?”

This time Chan did laugh and it was the best medicine I could possibly have.

“Vitals?” Chan asked, lingering around the poor nurse who clearly wasn’t expecting this much attention over one patient when she clocked in this morning.

“I already checked them,” the nurse informed him, writing down something on the chart clipped to the edge of my bed. I sipped my water as I watched the two of them, wondering if Chan had been this overbearing the entire time.

“Temperature?”

“98 degrees.”

“Blood pressure?”

“122/75”

“Respiration?”

“Chan,” I whispered softly, immediately drawing my husband’s attention who was at my side in an instant. “I think the nurse knows how to do her job.”

The poor woman shot me a grateful smile as she re-clipped my chart, hurrying out of the room as if she couldn’t possibly escape fast enough. “Sorry,” Chan said, taking his seat next to me. “I’m just worried.”

“I get discharged tomorrow,” I told him. “Pretty sure that means I’m just fine.”

“But your leg,” Chan whined, fussily messing with the large cast, tucking the blankets in securely.

“It’ll heal,” I said, frowning as I picked at the squishy jello the nursing staff had brought in earlier. “Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Chan tsked. “That’s good for you, Y/N. It’s full of necessary vitamins.”

I should have known better than to ask my doctor husband if I could possibly have something that actually had flavor to eat. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, Chan refused to waver from the nasty daily meals I was brought, much to my disappointment. “I’d kill for a burger.”

“Too much fat,” Chan said, turning down the idea before I could possibly try to negotiate.

“It physically hurts me to eat,” I tried. “I think they’re secretly plotting my death.”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded lightly. “There’s a reason why we serve this to patients, alright?”

I frowned at him but shoved a spoonful of the nasty substance in my mouth, earning me a pleased smile in response. “Happy?”

“You can have better food tomorrow,” Chan said, pausing as he reached down to check his phone notifications. “Minho is here,” he grumbled. “I guess I’ll go get him from the lobby before he gets lost.”

“Thank you, darling,” I chirped, accepting his brief kiss.

“I’ve seen worse,” Minho declared, ignoring Chan’s disbelieving scoff.

“You obviously weren’t here when she was first brought in,” Chan growled to him.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Minho asked, disregarding Chan who had gone back to check the dozens of machines somehow monitoring my every possible bodily function.

“Hungry,” I grimaced, pointing to my discarded container.

Minho lifted it curiously, bringing it his nose before he let out an unattractive grunt. “Is this garbage?”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chan said, reaching for my chart for the millionth time that day. “I’ll be right back, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, rolling my eyes once his back was turned.

I waited until Chan was gone before desperately reaching out for Minho. “You’ve got to help me, Minho! I can’t stand another day of jello and mashed potatoes. Get me a Big Mac and I’ll give you the number of one of my work acquaintances.”

Minho raised an interested brow. “Scale?”

“Oh, she’s definitely an 8...please!”

“That’s impossible to turn down, Y/N,” Minho grinned. “Give me ten minutes.”

I snatched his sleeve before he could walk away. “Make sure Chan doesn’t see.”

“So ask Han Jisung to fuck something up, got it.”

“You’re my best friend in the entire world. The rest of my life will be spent in your servitude.”

Minho offered me a brief salute and I solemnly nodded my head while ignoring the way my stomach growled.

It was growing dark outside and I’m pretty sure Jisung had accidentally given me too much of whatever pain medicine I had been prescribed. I could barely keep my eyes open as Chan settled next to me on his chair. “Y/N,” he said softly, picking at an invisible string on his suit pants. “I want to talk to you about the fight we had.”

My exhaustion vanished in a flash. “Okay,” I said, even though I had been hoping Chan would just forget that the fight even happened.

“I owe you an apology,” Chan said. “For acting like a jealous prick. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s my fault too,” I said. “I know how you feel about him, but I still went out anyway.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chan said, swallowing down the lie even though I could always read him like a book. “But every time I think about Seo Changbin, I can’t help but remember Freshman year.”

“You act like he broke your heart instead,” I tried to joke, but Chan was everything but amused.

“Yeah, he did break your heart, Y/N, and I’ll never forgive him for it. He was an arrogant bastard back then, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed much.”

“Not really,” I agreed, recalling our prior lunch arrangement.

“And I’ll never be okay with the fact that you work with your ex-boyfriend, but since you love the job so much, I can’t possibly fight with you anymore,” Chan said. “I should trust you as my wife.”

“I’m not remotely interested in Changbin,” I said. “It just sucks that he’s got good connections.”

“But if he tries anything on you...”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, even if his thighs look super good these days.”

“Y/N.”

“I know, Channie,” I giggled, reaching for his hand. “Trust me, alright? I don’t plan to work there forever. Fingers crossed for a promotion to the publisher.”

“I’ll pray every night if I have to,” Chan said. “As for Felix...”

“Don’t worry about him,” I said. “I know that I should try harder to get along with Felix.”

“It’s a two-way street,” Chan countered. “I’ve spoken to him about everything.”

“You have?” I wavered. “What did he say?”

“Well, he feels really bad about the accident,” Chan said. “I think he realizes how much better things would be if you guys were on friendlier terms.”

“He really looks up to you,” I said, recalling Minho’s words from before. “I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m trying to steal you away.”

“Felix and I have always been close,” Chan said. “We both had a hard time moving here from Australia. But at the end of the day, we could rely on each other..”

“High school wasn’t very good to either of you,” I said.

“Well, except for you of course,” Chan said, attempting a smile.

“They were mean to you, Channie,” I said, “and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’ve gotten over that,” Chan insisted. “But Felix always took everything harder than me. He wasn’t very social until college.”

“He should have stuck to being an introvert,” I said. “Look at the kind of friends he ended up with.”

“Are you saying Hyunjin is a bad influence?”

“Have you been around for our interactions?

“I’ve definitely noticed, Y/N. Remember what happened that one time when we went camping-”

“Anyways,” I loudly interrupted. “It seems like we both have a lot of things to work on.”

“But that’s why we talk about it,” Chan said, pressing a soothing kiss to the wrinkled crease of my forehead. “That’s what married couples do, right?”

“Ah, Channie, when did you become a walking cliche?”

“Should I be more serious, then?”

“You’re getting there with the doctor’s jacket.”

“Really?” Chan asked, sitting back in his chair. “Is this your way of asking us to try some kind of kinky roleplay?”

“I don’t know, but it might be interesting. Can I call you Dr. Bang?”

Chan was positively beaming. “You can always call me Daddy instead.”

“Darling, I think they accidentally gave you my prescription of morphine.”

If anyone were to ever ask me, then I’d tell them that signing hospital discharge papers was about as difficult as applying for a loan. “How many more are there?” I wondered, scribbling a messy signature at the bottom of the last sheet Jisung had brought for me to sign.

“I think that’s it.”

“You think?” I snorted, watching Jisung sort through each page carefully like he really had no idea what he was holding.

“Each year they add more shit for the patients,” Jisung explained. “I’m pretty sure they do it just to confuse me.”

“Everything confuses you, Jisung,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically. “Has Chan come in yet?”

“He’s on his way with Felix.”

“Goodie,” I grumbled. “Are you working late today?”

“Someone has to help since Chan insists on taking the day off,” Jisung said.

“I hope they aren’t planning on letting you do the surgeries.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

I kept my mouth shut, deciding to let Jisung live in his deluded fantasy world where he could somehow manage to cure patients of their ailments as opposed to causing them. Unsurprisingly, since the moment I had first met him, Jisung had always been completely sure of himself even if he was whole-heartedly wrong. For example, when we were all seniors in college, Chan refused to speak to Jisung for an entire week after the two of them received an F on their group project. Apparently, Jisung forgot to submit the lab report on time and waited an additional week before approaching the professor to politely ask if he could still bring it to her after class.

“Channie,” I tried to console him. “You know Jisung didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but my GPA will still suffer the consequences,” Chan had sulked, whining about how difficult it was to maintain a friendship with Han Jisung.

Yet, when Chan was first hired by the hospital, Chan sent in a very persuasive reference for Jisung, encouraging the higher-ups to offer him a nursing position. The three of us went out to celebrate Jisung’s new job offer, nursing shots of bad vodka while eating rather terrible sushi. “Chan,” a very tipsy Jisung had said. “I love you so much, man.”

“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” Chan had grouched despite wearing the biggest grin on his face...

“Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my recollection. “I think Chan just got here.”

“Finally,” I sighed. “I thought I would never be able to get the smell of alcohol out of my nose.”

“Thank God you’re here,” I said the moment Chan and Felix walked into my hospital room. “I’m pretty sure I had to sign my life away to leave this place, but it’s totally worth it.”

Chan rolled his eyes playfully. “I see you’re feeling better this morning.”

“I’ve been better for days,” I said. “But my doctor wouldn’t allow me to so much as breathe the wrong way.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, reaching down for my discarded bag. “Your doctor sounds like a real asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s pretty hot. I’d totally fuck him if I wasn’t already married.”

“It sounds like you have a thing for doctors?” Chan asked. “Does this husband of yours know that?”

“He probably does,” I said. “But I feel like he’ll probably leave me to masturbate on my own for months because of this dumb cast.”

“Y/N,” Chan scoffed. “It’s important for you to heal properly.”

I groaned loudly. “Why are you so responsible?”

Chan carefully handed me my bag. “Make sure you have everything. I’m going to talk to your surgeon one more time before we leave.”

It was difficult to prevent myself from protesting, finally realizing just how quiet it was with just me and Felix in the room. “Hi, Felix,” I said, awkwardly adjusting my blankets once Chan had disappeared from sight.

“Y/N,” Felix said, gaze focused on some unidentifiable point on the floor.

“What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to sound cheery because I didn’t like the look of despondence on Felix’s normally bright visage.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N,” Felix said with a vulnerable tone I had never heard from him before. “It’s because of me that you got hurt.”

“Felix,” I hesitated because this was uncharted territory for the both of us, a distant cry from our usual taunting banter. “You don’t need to do that. Everything’s fine now.”

“Your leg,” Felix whispered as an unexpected tear slid down the side of his face.

“It’s just a fracture,” I shrugged. “I’ll be just fine in a few months.”

“Just a fracture,” Felix parroted back, voice thick with emotion. “Why aren’t you mad at me? Because you should be. I’m always getting in your way.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked, surprised to hear Felix’s true feelings. “Felix, you aren’t in anybody’s way. You know I don’t really care that you’re staying with us, especially after you just graduated. I just wish you’d be a little bit more respectful.”

“Because I’ve always been jealous of you, Y/N,” Felix said. “Especially since Chan likes you more than me.”

“Felix, you know that Chan loves you. He would do anything in the world to make you happy.”

“He’s always chosen you over me,” Felix said. “He stopped hanging out with me on weekends in high school, and he even went to the same college as you even though he was accepted into Harvard and Yale.”

I was shocked by Felix’s true feelings, a rare moment of vulnerability that he was choosing to share with me. “Lixie,” I said. “Why have you never said anything before?”

Felix shivered at my use of his nickname. “I didn’t want to. You guys are so happy together and I didn’t want to hurt Chan.”

“Ya! Felix,” I frowned, “your feelings matter too. And if you really feel that way, then we need to talk about it together.”

“I’m just a burden,” Felix gruffed.

“No, you aren’t,” I insisted. “You’re part of our family, and if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, then you deserve to be heard.”

“You don’t really mean that do you, Y/N?” Felix asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t want you to say these things just to make me feel better.”

“Felix, when have you ever seen me lying to someone just to protect their feelings?” I asked. “I always speak my mind, and this time I’m putting my foot down. When we get home, we’re having a movie marathon, just the three of us. And this weekend, you and Chan can go somewhere together out of town. I’ll have Minho stay with me instead.”

“Really?” Felix asked, swiping a sleeve under his bright red nose.

“We’re in-laws you know,” I said. “That means we look out for one another.”

“Y/N,” Felix giggled and, for once, I didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed.

“Lee Felix, don’t you ever let me catch you crying like this again, understand?”

Felix nodded, smiling so brilliantly that I was reminded of when we were much younger and he was just an innocent little boy who idolized his older brother.

“Careful,” Chan said, holding the door wide with one hand while keeping a firm grip around my waist.

“I’m not gonna break,” I grumbled, pausing in the doorway as I let out a grateful sigh. It was a huge relief to be back at home and not stuck in that hospital room surrounded by questionable smells.

Chan carefully led me into the living room and I gave him my crutches before collapsing on the futon, ignoring the rigid fabric because I had never been happier to hug one of the matching throw pillows. “Comfortable?” Chan asked, helping me prop my leg up on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Felix lingered in the doorway, grasping my bag tightly between his hands.

“Come join us, Felix,” I said. “You’ll let out all the heat.”

Felix nodded, eyes wide as he locked the door behind him. Chan sent me a curious look as if he wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish by inviting his younger brother into the same room. “I have something for you.”

I clapped my hands together eagerly. “Is it something loaded with carbohydrates and fat?”

“Not quite,” he said, handing me my cell phone. “Seo Enterprises called earlier today. I already contacted them about the accident, but I guess they need to hear from you.”

“Great,” I grimaced, dialing the number from memory. It rang for a few moments, and Chan and Felix were both messing around with the TV, probably trying to figure out what to watch. Because the only thing the two brothers argued about was whether action movies were better than romance.

“Seo Enterprises, this is Eliza speaking how can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I immediately cringed, wondering how many cool points I could possibly lose in one day. “This is Y/N, can I speak to Mr. Seo please?”

“I can transfer you right away,” Eliza spoke promptly as if she had already been prepared to receive my call.

“Y/N!” Changbin’s voice now answered. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having a lot of bad luck recently,” I said. “I guess you know about the accident.”

“I heard,” Changbin said. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I said. “But I might need some time away from the company. Apparently, a broken leg is a pretty big deal.”

“Take as much time as you need, Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’ve hired a temporary secretary until you’re ready to come back.”

“I don’t know, Changbin,” I said. “It might take several weeks. Maybe you should just hire a replacement.”

“There’s no need for that, Y/N,” Changbin countered. “I still believe you’re the best person for the job.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” I trailed off, shaking my head furiously at Chan when he held up our used copy of The Notebook.

“I’m definitely sure,” Changbin said. “Call me when you want to come back. We still have a lot of things I want to do together in the future.”

“You’re too indecisive,” Chan said, finally taking a well-deserved seat next to me on the futon.

“And you have terrible taste in cinema,” Felix retorted.

“Yeah? Well maybe we should just let Y/N pick,” Chan suggested, mouthing a sweet kiss against my temple.

“I think Felix should decide,” I said, cuddling up closer to Chan’s side.

“Really?” Felix asked, appearing entirely surprised that I would allow him such freedom.

“Why not?” I sighed happily. “I’ll even watch that weird anime movie if you want.”

Felix scoffed but a faint smile remained as he grabbed the remote. Chan chuckled and leaned down to press another kiss to the top of my forehead. “I’m proud of you, sweetie,” he whispered.

“It’s only because I love you so much,” I said while shrugging indifferently, but Chan could always read through me.

“Hmm, well I love you more,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair as the opening credits rolled across the screen.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #chan #chan fanfic #bang chan fanfic #chris bang #chan smut #bang chan smut

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me-is-i-stuff · 3 years

Text

PERSONALITY

The truth about Ricky is that even though he’s been through some shit, he can barely be bothered to give a fuck about it. He’s a bit disconnected because he’s learned over time that it’s safer to be. He’s not friendly unless you earn it, doesn’t smile or laugh freely unless he already knows you’re a safe person to care enough about to give such things to, and he’s not what you’d consider an easy person to get to know. The real truth about Ricky is that 95 percent of the time he’s afraid to acknowledge the good shit people might think about him because he’s too busy believing the bad shit he’s been fed all his life through experiences and dealings he’s had with other people. The fact is, it’s not you and it definitely is him.

He: definitely bounces from job to job often as he has a habit of saying and doing things that other people might not care too much for (in other words: he has a mouth and he will use it), has periods of time where he simply will not talk because not talking is his immediate response to stressful situations, and smokes and drinks way too much just to cope with his own messes inside his own head. He should probably see a therapist but well, talking to people is not always his strong suit (at least not in a way they’d find enjoyable). He’s a grump, but somewhere in there he’s got a decent heart.

It just takes some prodding.

THE PAST

He’s a kid that was born into a shitty situation, taken out of it at the age of four, and put into the foster care system just a little too late. He was stubborn, wouldn’t let anyone love or care for him when they wanted to, and accepted it when his foster families didn’t want to. He grew up feeling alone and because of that, he kinda made it come true. He did not see adoption papers. He aged out, grew up, and got the fuck out of dodge. His education was not seen to, he dropped out at sixteen but the people he lived with were too oblivious to even care. They got their money and he, well, he got to do his own damn thing. He’s worked a series of minimum wage jobs, bouncing from one to the other after he inevitably pissed someone off (his current job is his longest one and it’s only been a few months).

The only good thing to come out of his growing years was the youth center he was often stuck in, where he met a girl named Pia. Pia, his ride or die. Pia, his bestie.

The rest, well...the rest is whatever. Or at least that’s what he tells himself whenever he thinks he might want more.

CONNECTIONS

Foster siblings (his last home was his longest and there were about five or six other kids there dealing with similar if not the same scars that the system landed him with).

People from the small friend group that kinda accidentally formed from that youth center. Pia was one of them, the rest are open. Maybe like two or three others.

Ricky might not be sociable in the usual sense, but he has a sex life. An active one. He tends to kinda compartmentalize here so it isn’t likely any past things held any feelings - or maybe they did, i dunno but yeah. Past and present stuff in this area.

Ricky’s got a temper, so people he’s brawled with in the past over whatever kinda useless shit people get mad about. If it’s gonna lead to violence, it’s in.

Ricky’s an artist - a hidden one. He paints and sketches beautiful, terrible, morbid things to express feelings he often has difficulties with expressing verbally. He’s talented, but it’s raw so maybe someone to kinda ‘discover’ and help ‘foster’ that talent further (and convince him that his art is not actually the trash he thinks it is and to tell him to stop painting only to toss it in the dumpster).

People he’s delivered pizzas to that have turned into more than just clients as Ricky has a habit of making accidental friends more than purposeful ones. Or even enemies, hey, I’m down for petty fights over stupid shit as it’s very within his character to have them!

Clients. Ricky does small time sex work in the form of selling certain worn garments over the internet, nudes and some light cam work. He might not be comfortable in person but on screen it’s easy for him to interact (even if he’s usually at least a little high when he does it). Sometimes, but only sometimes, he scams the dudes that hit him up. So like, yeah anything in this range would be great - even a client that maybe ends up as more.

A future boyfriend. Ricky’s bi, but he has a preference for the boys and even though he mostly thinks he’s unloveable, he has a lot of soft points hidden in there so someone who can poke and prod him into more would be great! Myself and the player of Pia have kind of this love triangle idea sorta deal but honestly anything works here!

If you wanna hit me up on discord cuz you might wanna deal with this idiot (or any future idiots), you can find me at SirLanceAThot#3334 on discord!

#cruelrp #characterintro #devchallenge

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stormysapphic · 4 years

Note

1, 2, 5, & 7-12??? (sorry if these r alot, u can skip some of these if u want too fhfhfjfj) (also ur one of my fave moots too!!! im glad when i see u in my notifs n on my dash too n i hope u have a good day dhdbdb💖💖💖)

1. 3 fears? death, not having enough money to pay my rent/bills/food/stuff my cat needs and so on, and everyone forgetting about me/secretly hating me/abandoning me/etc.. :( 2. 3 things you love? chocolate cake, queer punk/rock music, and my best friend!! <3 5. your best friend? my best friend is my ex boyfriend (we broke up around 2 years ago and realized we’re both gay) and i love him so much! he’s super funny & we have the same sense of humour. and we also have similar interests, but not too similar so we can still introduce each other to new stuff and widen each other’s horizons. my favourite thing about our friendship is that we fluidly go from memes/joking around to talking about queer theory and discourse and politics to super deep personal conversations. and i can talk to him about anything! we’re both kind of strong personalities so we’re probably awfully annoying to be around when we get each other hyped up, but we also keep each other in check in some ways! :’) plus he’s super smart and artistically multi-talented, especially when it comes to music! i love singing with him/when he accompanies me on his instruments. we joke about being a bit codependent but i honestly couldn’t imagine my life without him. <3 7. how tall are you? 166cm, or about 5′5′’! 8. what do you miss right now? i kind of miss summer - but not the season, just the vacation aspect. i usually enjoy school starting, but remote learning/in-person learning with strict limitations isn’t that fun. :( if i have to stay home, i’d rather spend the time doing smth other than studying. 9. favourite color? blue! like a primary colour blue! 💙 10. do you have a crush? nah, i kinda wish i did though. :( 11. favourite place? one of my faves is one of the reading rooms at the library near my school! i’ve hung out there since my 1st year - it’s always pretty empty and cozy and quiet, good for concentrating on reading. <3 and since a lot of my school friends (even those who have graduated) still sometimes go there too, you never know who you might run into! 12. what are you listening to right now? i’m watching a game grumps video on my phone while i do stuff (like scroll tumblr) on my laptop. :’)

#tysm for asking! <33 #ask game #sapphic-kiwi

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reddeadmort · 5 years

Note

Hmm dunno if you do modern Arthur ones but I'd love a modern or time-travelling Arthur reacting to snapchat filters. Can includes other gang members too, whomever you feel like writing.

Thank you for being so patient @nordic-breeze ! This started as just a general Arthur and social media, but then kind of accidentally evolved into a slight commentary of issues that women sometimes face. Not too sure on this one, but I hope it’s along the lines of what you were hoping for :)

If anyone wants a bit of background reading/scene setting, I wrote some HC’s for my take on Modern Arthur - they can be found here.

Btw, the catcalls/comments are real ones, taken from videos on youtube. And, tbh, they are some of the milder ones that feature.

Modern Arthur x f! reader | “Surely that’s enough photos now….”

Guidance: Minor fluff, protective Arthur, catcalling/sexual comments/threats

Words: 2.1k

“I just….. I don’t understand? Why do I need to be in the picture, surely it’s the skyline they want to see?”

Arthur was standing in the doorway of your balcony, facing away from you, looking out over the city. He was topless, leaning against the door frame with his arms and ankles crossed.

“Arthur, they’re following you to see YOU, not some boring modern buildings” you chuckled, as you took yet another photo.

You’d waited a while before introducing Arthur to the concept of social media; you didn’t really use it all that much yourself. You quite enjoyed using Snapchat, it was an easy way to keep up to date with your friends back home. Arthur had asked what you were doing during one of your selfie sessions sat next to him on the sofa; you’d shown him some of filters, but they completely befuddled him.

When you’d flicked on the flower crown, he’d looked frantically between your head and the face on the screen, muttering “but there’s nothing there…” to himself. He’d practically jumped over the back of the couch when you’d done a face swap with him; it was all a bit too much. He’d spent the rest of the evening in a bit of a confused grump, occasionally pausing Netflix to ask a question - “why do people want to take so many pictures of their own face”, “why do they change how you look so much” “why would you want to look like a dog”. You tried explaining that it was just a bit of fun, but knew when a concept was a lost cause.

Arthur was much happier to help you out with your Instagram. You didn’t post that often, mostly nice photos you’d taken on your treks. But Arthur enjoyed helping you with pictures, and the man did have an artistic flair; he’d gotten pretty good at framing the photos. He’d even started taking some pictures of his work building treehouses, mostly just to show you. Eventually, you managed to persuade him that posting these to Instagram might help promote his business; he’d agreed, but only under the proviso that you dealt with the actual posts/timings/hashtags etc. You had got a few good leads for his work through Instagram, but those jobs were mostly for rich families that had more money than sense. Arthur didn’t love doing these projects, they always ended being more 4 bedroom houses on stilts than rustic treehouses, but they did mean that he could afford to do builds for local charities at less than cost price.

But you knew that the main reason people followed Arthur was for Arthur, no matter how beautiful his work was. And so here you were, once again making him reluctantly pose for yet another picture.

“There we go, plenty to choose from now. You’re free to go now Arthur.” He let out an audible sigh of relief as he walked over to you to have a look at what you’d taken.

“I really don’t see why this is a good picture. All you can see is me pretty much.” Arthur shook his head. “Those ones that fella took of animals back in my time were much better”.

“Arthur, I’ve got 4 words for you: shoulder to waist ratio.”

“I’ll pretend I know what that means” he grunted as he pulled his t-shirt back on over his head. It had a Thor design on it; Arthur had become quite keen on Marvel. That photo you’d posted on your Instagram of him messing around, pretending to pull something out of the ground (copying the first Thor film), had got thousands of likes, despite you only having a few hundred followers. It was at that point you’d decided to set up his own account.

“Anyway Y/N, we best be goin’ to the gym if we want to eat before bed.”

“Yeh, good point, I’ll go grab my stuff.” You went to grab your workout bag with your clothes in from your bedroom as Arthur went and got changed into his, then started the short walk to the gym. As you walked, you chatted, then Arthur asked you a question.

“Here, Y/N, how come you don’t wear your gym clothes? Why’d ya always get changed there? We only live a few streets away.”

“Because, Arthur, I don’t like the attention I get. It’s not so bad when we walk together, but if I’m by myself…. It makes me uncomfortable. It can be pretty bad even if I’m not wearing my workout stuff.”

“I don’t understand? What attention?”

Sighing, you came to a stop, looking around.

“Look, Arthur, see that group of lads sat outside that shop?” you pointed up the street. “I see them a lot. I hear them a lot. Just walk behind me a bit, close enough to hear what they say, not so close that they think we’re together.”

“Alright, but I don’t really know why. They usually don’t say anything to me.”

“Arthur, that’s because you’re not a… never mind, just follow and listen, okay? And only listen. Whatever you hear, DON’T do anything, promise?”

Arthur grunted as you walked off, then followed behind as instructed. As you suspected, even though you weren’t wearing your gym leggings and sports top, the lads quickly took notice of you.

“Hey what’s up girl, how you doin’!”

“Smile baby!”

“That’s a gorgeous ass, I’d like to hold you down while I slap it”

“Hey bitch, we’re complimenting you, you should thank us!”

You controlled your breathing and continued to walk at a steady pace, stopping in a doorway further up the street so Arthur could catch up. When he did, he looked furious.

“I’m gonna kill ‘em.” He muttered through clenched teeth.

“Arthur, you can’t. And anyway, there’s like 6 of them and one of you. Let’s not get you arrested or killed, alright?”

“But…. they shouldn’t be sayin’ those things (Y/N)! It ain’t right.” You could see him clenching and unclenching his fists.

“No Arthur, it isn’t. And I hate that because of men like them I’ve changed my behaviour and changed what I wear. But I do it to try and make myself feel safer, cause one day, someone may do more than just say things.”

Arthur wrapped his large arms around you and hugged you tight. “I’m sorry (Y/N), sorry that I didn’t understand.”

“It’s alright Arthur, now come on, we want to get to the gym while it’s not too busy.”

Arthur was quieter than normal as you walked the rest of the way – you could tell he was mulling things over. Being yanked from his time into the modern world had made him a bit naïve; it baffled him that 100 or so years later, some of the same issues still existed.

——-

Arthur was indeed thinking about what he’d heard, but he was also thinking about what he himself had said in the past. Some of those off-hand comments to prostitutes in the saloons, things he’d said to Karen when she’d been drunk…….

You thought he was a good man, and here and now he’d done nothing to prove you wrong, but every so often a memory of his past would float up, reminding him of the things he used to do. But he’d been given a second chance - this time, he was determined to do better.

—–

You had a good workout; you always did with Arthur. You would chat and laugh together, and he was always great at motivating and encouraging you. You helped out each other’s routines where you could, but one thing you could not do was spot him. For god’s sake, the man benched way more than you even weighed. When it came time for this part of his workout, you left him with some of the other gym guys he’d grown friendly with and went to do your cardio. You didn’t love running on a treadmill, but in the city it was really the only option.

You were in your own little world when you noticed a man stood to your side talking to you. He was smiling at you; you took your headphones out, assuming he wanted to ask how much longer you’d be.

“Hello gorgeous.” Those words, from someone you didn’t know, gave you chills. “I’d love to give you some tips.”

“I’m alright thanks” you said as you gave a slight smile. It was one that you’d carefully crafted over the years; not quite big enough to encourage someone, not too small as to risk being called rude.

“No, sweetcheeks, you realllllly need my help. Here…..” As the man said it, he stepped even closer and put his hand on your back, while you were still jogging.

You slammed the stop on the machine and turned as quickly as you could away from him.

“I said I’m fine, please don’t touch me.” You were forceful, but not loud – you really didn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of the gym.

“Bitch, you need my help. You need teaching a thing or two.” The man grabbed at you again, this time managing to get your wrist. He was big, strong, you tried to pull away but you couldn’t. Sod not causing a scene, you thought, I’m getting this fucker banned.

You were about to scream at the man when suddenly he let you go. This had something to do with the fact that an enraged, sweating Arthur had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and was practically lifting him off the ground. Arthur wasn’t much larger than him, but much stronger; Arthur wasn’t a poser, he worked out for strength, relaxation, not definition.

“I think the lady said she’s fine without you goddammit” he snarled into the man’s face.

“What the fuck do you care buddy” the man retorted back, pushing Arthur away. “Me and this bitch need to do some more talking.” This man either had balls of steel or was a complete moron. You suspected the latter; a case of more muscles than brain cells.

“No, mister, me and you need to do some talkin’. And I think my friends might want to help with that.“ The man paled as he finally looked past Arthur.

Turning, you saw what he’d just seen; 3 of Arthur’s gym friends, each of them the same size or even larger than Arthur. You knew these guys, they were always polite, always happy to help you when some other arsehole had left some massive weights on a stand you wanted to use. And, as an added bonus, one of them was the gym’s manager.

“I’ll finish this with you another time girly” the man hissed at you, before quickly turning and walking away as Arthur took a step forwards.

“No he bloody won’t. Y/N, I’m so sorry about this, I’ll go and get him revoked right away” said the manager. “I’ll also make sure that the office send round his picture to all the local gyms, try and stop him doing it elsewhere. If you want me to ring someone, just say.” You nodded and smiled, as the others went back to what they were doing. Arthur stayed with you, checking your wrist.

“You alright (Y/N)? I’m sorry for intervenin’, I know ya could’ve handled him, I just saw red. Especially after what you showed me earlier.”

“Yeh, I’m fine, thanks Arthur” you smiled at him as he rubbed your bruised wrist. “I just wish it wasn’t something I had to deal with, you know?”

“Yeh, I know. I just don’t understand why nothin’ much has really changed. At least back with the gang I could deal with someone that did stuff like this properly.” As you looked into his eyes, you could see that glimmer of animalistic rage that appeared occasionally. Arthur had done well to adjust to modern life, but you knew that sometimes he struggled with not being able to fight his way out of situations. It had worked well for him for years back in his time - to a point anyway.

“Come on Arthur, why don’t we go and do a little bit on the punching bags to cool off. We can take a few more pictures.”

Arthur groaned. “Surely we’ve got enough pictures already?”

“Stop your whining, I know you secretly love the attention.” You jokingly stuck your tongue out out him. “Tell you what, I’ll treat you to dinner on the way back after, to say thanks for being my big burly cowboy.” You knew Arthur liked it when you called him a cowboy, it always made him laugh and think of some of those ridiculous films.

“Sound’s like a plan, Y/N. As long as I getta choose.”

“So, Five Guys again then.” Arthur grinned as you sighed, smiling, and went to finish your workout.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x f reader #arthur morgan #modern arthur morgan #arthur morgan fluff #my work #arthur morgan fic #fanfic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader

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paigenotblank · 5 years

Note

nine/rose, secret admirer

tagging @doctorroseprompts for providing the prompt list.

prompt: secret admirer

pairing: nine x rose

AO3 TSP

A Not So Secret Admiration

Rose was browsing through the sci-fi new releases at her favorite bookshop, when she heard a whispered argument from the brother and sister who’d recently taken over the shop from their grandfather. She didn’t want to intrude, but at the same time she couldn’t help overhearing.

“What crawled up your arse this morning?”

“Donna!”

“No, seriously. You’ve been a right prat since I got in this morning.”

There was a heavy, masculine sigh.

“Did you eat breakfast? You know how you get when you don’t eat.”

He mumbled. “Didn’t have time.”

Rose heard a feminine snort. “Mr. I Don’t Need More Than 4 Hours of Sleep, didn’t have time for breakfast? An’ what were you doing this morning instead of eating? Shagging that ex of yours that’s been sniffin’ around, tryin’ to convince you to sell the shop and take her traveling?”

Rose couldn’t resist peeking around the bookcase. John, Donna’s brother, ran a hand down his face. “Was goin’ over the books again last night and fell asleep upstairs. Didn’t wake up ‘til 15 minutes before we opened. An’ for the record, I haven’t seen Reinette since she eloped with Louis.”

“Right. Sorry.” Donna’s expression softened and she patted her brother on the arm. “But you’ve got to take better care of yourself. That’s the fifth time in two weeks that you’ve slept here. You can’t keep-”

“I brought in a camp bed. It’s fine.” He ran his hand over his close cropped hair. “I’m missing something. I know we can turn this place around and bring in a lot more money, I just have to figure out how.”

“John…” Donna bit her lip. “Er, so how bad is it?”

“We managed to turn a small profit this month, but with all the debt Gramps managed to get into, we still don’t have the money to make any new hires. Sorry, I know you’d rather spend more time at home with Gramps and the kids.”

“A profit’s good, yeah? A step in the right direction at any rate. I know how you get when you put your mind to something. If you think we can turn it around, then it’s only a matter of time. An’ don’t worry about me, I can stick around a bit longer. I mean after I get back from my holiday. I’m still plannin’ on going-”

“No. I know. I wouldn’t ask you to cancel. And thanks.”

“That’s me, best sister in Chiswick. Now get your arse next door, and get somethin’ to eat before I have to leave for the school run.”

Rose’s eyes widened and she blindly grabbed a book from the shelf. With a bright smile on her face, she walked around the tall, bookcases toward the front of the shop.

“Rose! Didn’t see you there.”

She shrugged. “On my lunch break and you know I can’t resist checking the new releases.” She handed John her book and credit card and rested her elbows on the counter. “Also, I just wanted to tell you how much I loved the Madman in a Box that you recommended.”

John’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, before his eyes took on a glint of mischief. “So much that you wanted to read it again?”

“Oh, yes! Definitely plannin’ on it.” She smiled at him with a hint of tongue poking out the side.

His eyes darted down to her lips and he had to clear his throat. “You know you can reread the copy you bought last week.”

“Huh?”

He held up the book that she’d handed him. The very same Madman in a Box that she’d purchased the week before.

She gaped at it for a second and blushed. “Uh, oh, this one’s for a friend. A, erm, a…a gift for her birthday.”

He grinned a lopsided smile, one that might have looked daft if he wasn’t so bloody handsome, that caused another flush to appear on Rose’s face - although this time it had nothing to do with embarrassment. “I was just teasing.”

“Right. Yeah. I reckoned.”

He handed her the book and credit card back. “I hope your friend enjoys it as much as you did.”

“Thanks. Laters.” She gave Donna and John a small wave and headed out the door.

“My God, just ask her out already.”

John startled and crossed his arms over his chest. “What? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Donna crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes.

John shook his head. “Just leave it. She’s not interested in me.”

“She absolutely fancies you. Ask. Her. Out.”

John moved to fiddle with the buttons and levers of the antique cash register. “I’m too old for her. An’ even if that wasn’t enough, she’s…she’s like a ray of sunshine. An’ ’m a storm cloud. She’d never-”

“John, Rose is one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met. She had a rough childhood, but she fought all the stereotypes and people telling her she wasn’t good enough and made something of her life. She’s exactly the type of woman you need, one who can understand everything you’ve been through.”

“But what about her? What does she get? A broken old soldier? She deserves better.”

“Oi! That’s my brother your talking about. He’s a brilliant, hard-working, adventurous, and fantastic man. Any woman would be lucky to have him.”

John flushed at his sister’s praise and mumbled, “Thanks.”

“Now get your arse next door, and let Miss Tyler butter your scone.”

“Donna! What- I- What’s that even mean?”

Her peal of laughter followed him from the shop.

–

The few mornings later, John was rushing to open and found a steaming cup of coffee and a white bag of freshly baked croissants complete with little jars of assorted jams waiting in front of the door. He looked around but the early morning street was deserted. He picked up the treats and noticed a message written underneath the Bad Wolf Bakery logo: Hope you have a brew-tiful day! xx

He pushed the door open to the bookstore and scratched his head. Who on Earth sent him breakfast? Oh! Breakfast! Must be Donna’s doing. Knowin’ she can’t keep an eye on me while in Egypt. An’ she always signs her texts with ‘xx.’ I’ll have to remember to thank her when I talk to her later.

In his rush to prepare the store for opening, the thought was soon forgotten.

–

All week, it was the same. He’d taken to sleeping in his office while Donna was away, but without fail, every morning, just before opening, there was a coffee and something freshly baked waiting for him by the front door. Sometimes there was a funny little coffee pun or joke about books written on the cup, other days a simple ‘xx.’

He was sipping that morning’s said coffee, when the bell over the door signaled a customer.

“Rose! You’re here early today.”

She bit her lip and gave him a small grin. “Yeah. My mum got caught up in a work emergency, so I’ve got to pick up my little brother from his créche during my lunch break an’ I didn’t wanna miss our, erm, out on any new releases.”

“Blimey. You must be my best customer.”

“Oh…” Rose blushed and lowered her eyes to the floor.

“Love me an avid reader.” When she’d garnered the courage to look once more at John, he was giving her a soft smile. “I’m the same. ‘S why I run this place.”

“I thought you got it from your granddad?”

Running a hand along the close cropped hair at his nape, his grin turned sheepish. “Aye, but coulda sold it. I love books though, me, and running this place is a dream come true.”

Rose smiled up at him. “Nice neighborhood too.”

John swallowed as his eyes narrowed in on her lips. “Yeah, like the neighbor a lot.” Rose’s lips formed a perfect ‘o’ and his gaze flew up to hers. “I mean, the neighbors! All of them. I didn’t mean to imply- Not that you’d be- I, er, I meant that everyone’s been really great since I got here. You included, of course. Don’t know what I’d do without your breakfasts. Probably starve. Or scare away all the customers. I’m a right grump when I haven’t eaten. And I’m gonna stop talkin’ now.” He covered his eyes with his hand.

“I, er, I’m just gonna go check on those…” She pointed toward the book cases.

Rose ducked into the first aisle she came to and leaned against the shelves trying to calm her fluttering heart. What’d he mean by- Was it a Freudian slip, or just a mistake? I thought he might- An’ he was staring at my lips, but then… Ugh. Get a grip. He’s obviously not interested or he would’ve already asked you out and the sooner you get that through your stupid-

“Rose?”

She pushed off the bookcase and smiled brightly. “Yeah?”

“Biographies today?”

Rose glanced over to the books on her left. “Oh, uh, yeah. Thought I’d change it up a bit.”

John stepped right into her personal space and reached up to one of the upper shelves. One whiff of his cologne and it set her heart back to hammering wildly in her chest. God, he smells good. How does he have any right to smell…that good? She bit the inside of her lip to keep from embarrassing herself with a moan or sigh.

“Then I think you’ll really enjoy this one.”

Rose took the book he’d pulled down for her and stared at it. She couldn’t make her eyes concentrate on the words of the title - his nearness was overwhelming all her senses.

“Y-yeah. Looks great.”

He tilted his head and examined her face. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Yup! Never better.” She forced a big smile and tried to hold her breath without being obvious about it. Seriously, what kind of cologne is he wearing? It made her want to push him against the stacks and snog him senseless.

He took a step closer to her, and-

“Well, don’t you two look cozy?”

A squeak of surprise from Rose had John turning around.

“Donna! What are you doing back? I thought you weren’t due back ‘til-”

“Cut the trip short.”

“What? Why?”

“Egypt wasn’t what I expected. You know how I was gonna go barefoot? But it was all bus trips and guidebooks and ‘don’t drink the water.’”

“Let me guess, Lee drank the water?”

Donna sighed and nodded. “He was miserable. I was miserable. So we decided to just come home.”

“Sorry.”

Rose stood clutching the book, trying not to attract the notice of John’s sister. Not that she didn’t like the other woman, quite the opposite. It seemed, though, that more often than not, she was around when Rose was making a fool of herself in front of John. And she always gave her such a knowing glance. God, I must be so obvious.

“Eh, it’s okay. Missed the kids anyway.” Donna turned her sights on Rose.

Shit.

“Hi, Rose. You’re in awfully early today.”

“Hi, Donna. Sorry to hear about your trip.”

Donna waved away her concern and her mouth tilted into a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m more interested in whether my idiot brother finally asked you-”

“Donna!” He hissed at his sister, before grabbing the book from Rose. “C’mon, Rose. Let me ring you up.”

Rose looked from John to Donna and back. “Asked me what?”

The tips of John’s ears turned a delightful shade of red. “Oh, er, whether you, erm, might like to…” Her eyes shone with hope. “Erm, I’ve been thinking about…oh, having a book signing here, if I can manage it, I’d like to get Davis T. Russell.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, you know, the author of Madman in a Box.”

She smiled as she handed her credit card over. “Yeah. That sounds amazing.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He handed her back her credit card and watched as she walked out the door.

Donna slapped him upside the head.

“Oi!”

“You really are an idiot. Book signing?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “‘S somethin’ I’ve been thinking about doing. What?”

“Just ask her out.” Donna picked up John’s coffee cup and took a sip. She nearly gagged. “Ugh. Cold coffee.”

“Well, yeah. It’s from this morning.”

Donna’s eyebrow rose as she noticed the ‘xx’ on the side of the cup. “Two kisses?”

“Yeah? It’s how you always sign off on texts.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you’ve been buying me breakfast all week.”

“What? No I haven’t.”

“Donna, all week since you’ve been gone, breakfast has been waiting for me at the door with your two little x’s sign off.”

A cheeky grin blossomed over Donna’s face. “Wasn’t me, sunshine. Sounds like someone’s got a secret admirer. Though, come on, not really all that secret, is it?”

“What does that mean? Who?”

Donna rolled her eyes. “It says it right on the side of the cup. Who do we know that owns a place called Bad Wolf Bakery?”

“You can’t mean Rose?”

“She has a huge crush on you to the point that she comes in every single day to see you.”

“Donna…”

“The same Rose that you just let walk out of here even though she was waiting for you to ask her out!”

“She wasn’t.”

“She was.”

John glanced at the door. “You really think…?”

“Yes! Now go after her.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. John rushed out the door and toward the bakery entrance.

He pulled open the door. “Rose!”

She squeaked, hands at her back from tying her apron back on. “John?”

He walked up to her and with his intense stare asked, “Have you been sending me breakfast all week?”

“Er, yeah.”

“Why?”

She bit her lip and her eyes darted nervously around the shop. “Oh, well, I knew that with Donna away that you probably wouldn’t have time, and then when you didn’t come in at your normal time for your coffee… I, erm, just wanted to make sure you had breakfast.” She blushed under his scrutiny. “‘S the most important meal of the day.”

The way he was looking at her had her pulse racing, and she jumped when he finally spoke. “Would you like to go out for dinner with me?”

“Wha’?”

“I, er, a date? I…really like you an’ ‘ve been wanting to ask you out for a while. Just too big of a coward, me.”

“Yeah? I’ve been hoping you’d ask me out for a while. And I’d love to.”

The two stood grinning daftly at each other until Amy threw a dish towel at them for blocking the register.

–

One year later:

John took a sip of his coffee and savored the last of the morning’s quiet moments. He’d be unlocking the shop’s front door in a matter of minutes.

Rose walked through the newly built archway that connected their two stores carrying two mugs. She handed one to Donna and snuggled into John’s side holding the other.

“Thanks, Rose.” Donna took a sip of her tea and asked, “How was the honeymoon?”

“Barcelona was beautiful.”

“Did you two even make it out of the hotel room to see any of it?”

Rose shook her head and raised herself onto her toes to kiss her new husband.

John chuckled. “There may’ve been one or two days of sightseeing.”

Rose slapped his chest. “Oi!”

“Is it my fault I have the most ravishing wife on the planet?”

She stuck her tongue out the side of her smile. “Well, yeah, but Donna doesn’t need to know all the dirty details.” She turned dancing eyes to her new sister-in-law. ��And believe me, they were very, very dirty. Filthy even.”

For once in her life, Donna blushed. “Oh my god, you’re as bad as him! Too much information!”

Rose shrugged and primly stated, “You’re the one who asked.”

John stole another kiss from his radiant wife. “Ready, love?”

“Ready.”

Rose walked to the front door of the bakery as John prepared to open his own. They’d merged their lives as they had their livelihoods. Bad Wolf Bakery & Booksellers was open for business.

#nine x rose #doctorroseprompts #human au #bookstore #bakery #mutual pining #idiots in love #secret admirer #prompt #fleurdeneuf

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noonmutter · 5 years

Note

*Grinch grin* Make me admit something... DO THEM ALL.

Pff like I haven’t had to do this rodeo before come at me scrub

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

That’s either my realtor or my mom, so no.

2. You talked to an ex today, correct?

No? Why on earth would I?

3. Have you taken someones virginity?

Not to my knowledge.

4. Is trust a big issue for you?

Absolutely. Trust is the core of a relationship, without it you’re just acquaintances who maybe make eye contact sometimes.

5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?

From the phrasing I assume this means “like-like” and since I live with my fiance, yes.

( I really did answer all of them at once but I’m not enough of a turd to fill everybody’s dashboard so the rest are behind the cut! )

6. What are you excited for?

Boring work stuff that makes little sense to anybody who doesn’t work with me but is going to be just as jazzed about it as I am because they’re FINALLY FIXING SOMETHING I SAID WAS A PROBLEM A YEAR AGO–AGAIN

7. What happened tonight?

Um… it’s four in the afternoon here.

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?

I think it’s disgusting when anybody gets wasted. You aren’t even conscious of whatever fun you might be having and you sure as shit aren’t tasting whatever you’re drinking anymore. Quit that.

9. Is confidence cute?

Only in the context of someone who’s about to get the living shit beaten/embarrassed out of them for being confident against all advice to the contrary (”He’s gonna go punch a tarrasque in the nads! How cute!”). Otherwise confidence is just a good thing and generally rad.

10. What is the last beverage you had?

I just finished my second coke of the day about ten seconds ago and am debating a third.

11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?

“Fully” is the operative word and that number is zero of any sex.

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?

Probably. It’s hard not to get them when you’re at a certain size.

13. What are you gonna do Saturday night?

Work, go home, either raid or RP, and sleep. I do that basically every Saturday night.

14. What are you going to spend money on next?

Ideally a house that isn’t being sold by an idiot, but probably something less interesting like Starbucks.

15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?

Hey @dwyndel would you consider what we’re doing “going out”?

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?

I mean, I hope so? Growth is important.

17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?

My fiance and my mom.

18. The last time you felt broken?

hahaha “last time”

19. Have you had sex today?

hahaha “today” I haven’t gotten laid in years. plural.

20. Are you starting to realize anything?

what the hell kinda question is this that’s not something you admit to, that’s a question that answers itself and the answer is either “no” because you aren’t or “yes” because the question made you realize it

21. Are you in a good mood?

Pretty good, yeah

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?

Yes but I’ll be peeing literally the entire time

23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?

Probably. I got a lot of my looks from him, which aggravates the shit out of me since he’s a terrible person

24. What do you want right this second?

A nap

25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?

‘Can I watch’‘Were they hot’‘Do they like sharing’‘Your breath smells like infidelity’

26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?

Yep, white streak included

27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?

Probably not, but there’s a huuuuuuge difference between “doesn’t make me laugh” and “does not have a compatible sense of humor with mine.” Some people just aren’t funny. Like me. I’m not funny at all. Jesus am I ever not funny. Wow.

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?

A fucking Spanish Inquisition reference from Dan Avidan in Game Grumps that I’m still mad at myself for laughing at

29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now?

Eh, not really. I don’t have homesickness pangs or people-aren’t-here pangs unless I know I can’t get to them because they’re not in a place where I can go. Otherwise I’d be a sad puppy every time I went to work

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?

No. Some people are not worth anyone’s time or effort and often they know it and abuse people’s willingness to forgive or try.

31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?

Hatred is hard to pull out of me unless you personally did something really offensive and permanent to me. I get tired of people but I very rarely hate them. The last “boy” (he is very much an adult, calling him “boy” is fuckin’ wierd) I talked to was my supervisor and I rather like Phill

32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?

I am engaged. You tell me.

33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?

Not only did I just say I’m contemplating a third Coke at 4 in the afternoon, I have a bucket to collect pull tabs in for the fiance to make chainmail out of

34. Listening to?

My coworkers chattering in the office around me. I could listen to music if I wanted, but the office headsets suck ass and can’t handle bass of any kind

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?

Not often. My handwriting is awful and I try not to write by hand at all, but if I do, it’ll probably be in pen

36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?

Either at home or running errands

37. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Shit no

38. Who did you last call?

Not counting work calls, I try not to call people if I can possibly avoid it. Uhhhhhhh…probably my mom.

39. Who was the last person you danced with?

hahaha “dance”

40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?

Because she was there and smoochable

41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake?

Haven’t had cupcakes in a VERY long time, have had very good muffins from Costco this week though

42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?

Nope, they live in Virginia and I don’t

43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?

Am I misunderstanding what you do to attract a mate?

44. Do you tan in the nude?

I don’t tan.

45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?

Nope, that’s my smooch and I’m keeping it

46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?

Sorta. RP is kinda like talking, right?

47. Who was the last person to call you?

Realtor.

48. Do you sing in the shower?

Not really. If anything I hum; being able to hear myself too well makes me get quieter

49. Do you dance in the car?

Drum stuff out, finger-piano on the steering wheel, occasionally headbang.

50. Ever used a bow and arrow?

Once, and I’d love to again. The first/last time I fired a bow I took ten shots and bullseyed six.

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

College. Never doing that shit again.

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?

That’s sort of the point of them. The question isn’t are they cheesy, it’s are they good.

53. Is Christmas stressful?

Of course it is. The only time it’s not is when you’re too young/old to have conscious thoughts, because even young children worry endlessly over what they’re getting or if they’re getting anything or what if santa thinks they were bad

54. Ever eat a pierogi?

I fucking love pierogi but I’ve only ever had the frozen ones from Mrs. T’s, Dwyn and I keep saying we should find time to make some and see how much better it is

55. Favorite type of fruit pie?

Don’t really do pies of any kind except for French Silk. Fruit pie filling is a wierd texture I don’t really enjoy

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

Architect and animator

57. Do you believe in ghosts?

Enough to be unsettled late at night by noises I can’t identify, not enough to be unwilling to sleep in an allegedly haunted house

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

All day every day. No joke somedays I wonder if people who think they have psychic powers are just people with really persistent deja vu, it feels like magic

59. Take a vitamin daily?

vitamin coke or vitamin coffee

60. Wear slippers?

Technically the shoes I wore to work today could count as slippers. I call them my crazy-people shoes because they have no shoelaces and no fittings

61. Wear a bath robe?

only when it’s really cold in the house

62. What do you wear to bed?

Nothing

63. First concert?

Blind Guardian at the Pop’s in Chicago when I was 13. It was their first US tour and my parents are boss people who really wanted to humor their kid. People at the show realized this tiny barely-teenager in the back knew every word to every song and pulled me to the front, and there was no barrier between crowd and stage, so I got to lean on the stage and got smirked at by the guitarist. After the show I shook Hansi Kirsch’s hand and got my copy of Imaginations From The Other Side signed. Good times

64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

Target

65. Nike or Adidas?

Neither, they’re both overpriced shit

66. Cheetos Or Fritos?

Cheetos

67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?

Peanuts, although I’d rather have cashews

68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?

I don’t know any taylor swift songs nor do I care

69. Ever take dance lessons?

Nope

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

Hadn’t given that one any thought beyond helping her job hunt in the immediate sense. I can see her doing costuming on a professional level eventually, though

71. Can you curl your tongue?

I never know what people mean by this. I can make an “O” shape with my tongue but that’s it, I never figured out that clover shape

72. Ever won a spelling bee?

Multiple. I almost went national in …something-before-sixth-grade-because-I-remember-beating-sixth-graders but refused to go because I wanted to stop being stared at (seriously, I just didn’t want to go because I hated being on a stage). I’m sure that frustrated my mom

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

A few times, but not often

74. What is your favorite book?

One of the Discworld novels, but the answer is ever-changing because they’re all pretty goddamn great. Picking one out of a hat, Unseen Academicals is pretty rad just because it’s got such a great take on [thing that spoils the plot if I say it]

75. Do you study better with or without music?

I was not a studying kid, I was a “retains everything as long as nobody stops me from doodling while they’re teaching and it’s not about numbers” kid. Thinking about it I was probably doing some eidetic memorization tricks without realizing it, my fact retention is/was top notch when I cared

76. Regularly burn incense?

Nope, I have over 100 allergies and a lot of them are to plants so I’m not risking that bullshit

77. Ever been in love?

I am engaged to be married right now

78. Who would you like to see in concert?

Does Critical Role count?

79. What was the last concert you saw?

H…alestorm? I think? It’s actually been a while

80. Hot tea or cold tea?

Hot plz

81. Tea or coffee?

Tea if it’s just the drink itself, coffee if I can put a ton of shit in it so I can only barely taste the actual coffee

82. Favorite type of cookie?

Does Not Contain Raisins

83. Can you swim well?

I can swim, Iunno about well? I’ve never been in danger of drowning for lack of swimming ability, I guess

84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

What an interesting question, it hadn’t occurred to me there are people who can’t until now

85. Are you patient?

When I choose to be

86. DJ or band, at a wedding?

If it’s affordable and the right band, band. Otherwise DJ and karaoke because HELL YEAH GET YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY DRUNK AND LET THEM SING

87. Ever won a contest?

A smattering of spelling bees, a couple art contests, summer reading competitions. Nerd shit, yanno? Although I’ve won those water gun shooting gallery games at Six Flags every time there’s enough people to play, too

88. Ever have plastic surgery?

Nope

89. Which are better black or green olives?

Olives are gross

90. Opinions on sex before marriage?

It’s sex, who cares

91. Best room for a fireplace?

Living room and/or bedroom

92. Do you want to get married

I am engaged right now

@theengraver EAT ME

#prompty things #munday #theshadowborn

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years

Note

some prompts for u dear: a fun twist on king au, gav as king and some of the others of his court? whatever ship you’re feeling but idk king gav is always a favorite. boy is smarter and more competent than others give him credit for

Okay, so I’ve been thinking about this one for the last couple of days and it’s a whole ~universe. (Mainly because I am such a sucker for the whole trope of the evil chancellor/coup/DRAMA in a kings au setting, but yes.)

It happens when Gavin’s a child, seven or eight, and his father allows himself to be captured to give his mother and him time to escape.

They use hidden passages and such under the castle that let out near the stables, take his father’s war horse and ride as far as they can before the poor thing needs to rest, but it’s not far enough. So they leave it tethered to a post in a small village, taking care to remove its tack and whatever else might give them away too soon and his mother steals a horse.

She gives him a look when he makes a noise, swallowing up any protests because this is not the time for things like that, knows these are unusual circumstances.

They keep traveling like that for days until they manage to cross the border to a neighboring kingdom through a treacherous mountain pass. They finally stop in some sleepy little village far from the border and while the people there are curious, they have manners, don’t pry too much when news reaches them of what’s taken place. Assume they’re refugees for one reason or another and leave them to their own business.

Gavin’s mother has sold off bits of jewelry and other finery along their way here so they have a little money, enough to get them a room from someone in town long enough for her to find work in a tavern, and things are fine for a little bit.

She works hard to keep them both fed and clothed and when she’s not at work she tells him stories about their kingdom, his father, and so on in their tiny bed while the rain falls outside. Makes sure he continues his schooling with the local children, tells him not to mind them when they look down on him and his threadbare clothes, hand-me-downs from their parents who feel sympathy for this widow and her son.

But then she becomes sick a few years on, and there’s no cure. (Heartbreak, someone tells him, because sometimes a loss is too great.)

There’s no one in the village willing to take Gavin in – too poor, and he’s likable enough, yes, but not one of theirs – so he’s take to a larger town nearby with an orphanage.

Underpaid workers there with too many mouths to feed, too many children to clothe and care for and it’s made them not unkind, exactly, just not caring.

There are children there who are mean and cruel, bully those weaker than them and at first they think Gavin is like that.

He isn’t, though. Small and quiet, far too clever for his own good, but not weak. (A good king is never weak.)

Too small to fight off the larger boys – nearly teenagers – on his own, but there are others who don’t care for bullies. A pair of boys who look enough alike at first glance it would be easy to think they were twins, who fight dirty and whisk Gavin away to some hiding spot of theirs before the adults take notice.

And that’s where Gavin first meets Trevor and Alfredo.

Alfredo loves him immediately, but Trevor is a harder sell. Wary of new people and the like, but it’s not long before Gavin and Alfredo win him over and they become close friends as they grow up in the orphanage together. (Think he’s a bit odd with his accent, the way he speaks – no commoner, Gavin – but he’s quiet and clever and quick to offer a suggestion when they’re up to some small mischief.)

A few years later there’s word of bandits getting bolder, attacking villages and the like. No one knows what they’re after because it’s obvious they’re looking for something – someone – and Trevor and Alfred worry about Gavin when they find out his old village was one of the first attacked.

Gavin makes ~secret plans to leave because he knows they’re after him – doesn’t want to get Trevor and Alfredo caught up in this whole mess.

Doesn’t realize that Trevor’s making similar plans and doesn’t explain why when Alfredo catches him at it, refusing to let him go alone and all that both reluctantly agreeing it would be best to leave Gavin out of it. Think he’ll be safer at the orphanage and that he’s bright enough to look after himself when he ages out.

Before they can put their plans in motion their city gets attacked.

It’s pretty obvious that the attackers aren’t your typical bandits, more organized, better equipment and so on, and Gavin goes missing in the chaos.

Everyone thinks he’s been killed – he’s just a kid and the orphanage was one of the main targets in the attack, burned to the ground and such – so they assume one of the bodies is his.

Trevor takes it hard, thinks it’s his fault even though he doesn’t tell Alfredo why

Trevor and Alfredo run away, get lost in the city’s underbelly and become thieves and the like, dragged in deeper and deeper until someone notices them and thinks they have ~potential and before you know it they’re part of an assassin’s guild.

(Trevor tries to convince Alfredo to stick to thieving, or learn a trade, but Alfredo won’t hear of it. Worried about Trevor after Gavin died because he’s grown colder, more distant and so on.)

There’s also this budding...something between them, which honestly has always been there but neither of them act on it. (They both know something it missing and don’t dare talk about what – who – it might be, because Gavin’s dead, so...)

A few years go by where they get a reputation for being able to pull off assassinations thought to be impossible – they step on a few toes in the guild in the process.

This pair of upstarts the guild master found picking pockets in the marketplace who don’t know their place, have upstaged senior assassins who have too much ego and nowhere near enough skill so the guild master hands them an assignment, someone with a grudge against a storekeeper in the capital city.

Trevor and Alfredo are a little offended at first because this is the kind of assignment handed to the novice assassins, but the way the guild master’s acting and the nature of the assignment itself is super suspicious, right?

She warns them to be careful, something she never does, and gives them the pick of the armory and whatnot and something it definitely up.

They gear up, grabbing weapons and such they didn’t have access to before and head off on their assignment. Go through cities and villages, small settlements the bandits have attacked – the attacks don’t happen as frequently anymore, and Alfredo wonders why that is, Trevor musing about the number of assignments their guild has gotten since they joined. Senior assassins who weren’t threatened by them mentioning there have been more than usual, and maybe the two are connected?

And then they reach the capital city and check in with the assassin’s guild master there (all of them thinking it a bit odd if not wholly unusual their client didn’t go to them directly) and spend the first day there familiarizing themselves with the city.

Wait until night of the second day to see to their assignment, but when Trevor sneaks in the storekeeper is gone.

His son, however, is not, and proves to be something of a capable fighter. The two of them trading blows in the near darkness and Trevor reluctantly impressed with his ability to keep up with him – until Alfredo steps in to put an end to it.

And it’s a terrible idea, sudden impulse that makes Trevor reach for the candle on the table to see the face of the person who’s been able to fight on an even level with an assassin of his ability as long as he did – and it’s Gavin.

!!!

This look on his face, in his eyes, they remember from the orphanage when the bullies caught up to him before Trevor and Alfredo let them know what a bad idea that was.

Defiance and bravery and all that, and clearly he’s expecting them to kill him. Don’t know it’s them with the scarves and masks over their faces, so – against guild rules and all common sense – Trevor pulls them away, and watches the disbelief on Gavin’s face.

Sees the way he glances immediately to Alfredo like of course that’s who Trevor’s partner would be and all three of them are caught in this standoff not knowing what to do next.

So of course that’s when the storekeeper arrives, startling all three of them.

“Friends of yours?”

Gavin looks back at Trevor and Alfredo, blade to his throat and clearly in some form of trouble – it’s clear the storekeeper is armed, will act the moment he gets a chance.

“I’d like to think so,” he says, but times change. (People change.)

Alfredo clears his throat, shares a look with Trevor and puts his blades away, Trevor following suit a beat later, and then it’s all-over awkward.

Gavin is still staring at Trevor and Alfredo, and they’re still staring at him, and the storekeeper just sighs as he goes about making tea because clearly it’s going to be a long night?

Trevor watches him closely – it’s clear the man knows they’re there for him but he doesn’t seem at all ruffled by the presence of two assassins in his kitchen.

After a moment Gavin goes to help, placing four mugs of tea around the small table and looking at the two of them expectantly.

He’s nervous, scared, Trevor knows. Small tells he learned when they were in the orphanage together, but he’s placing some level of trust in the two of them. (Still makes sure to keep himself between the storekeeper and the pair of assassins, though, and that makes him smile a little because it’s very...him.)

The storekeeper gets things rolling, tells them he knows they’re here for him and guesses their client correctly – and instead of sounding worried or even afraid he’s just annoyed.

“Bastard doesn’t have the balls to come after me himself,” he grumps, and Gavin hides his grin behind his mug, because Geoff.

Trevor and Alfredo are like ??? because not the usual reaction to someone sending assassins after them?

But then Geoff looks at Gavin – full-on Dad mode and asks if this is why Gavin wanted him to pay visits to some of their associates in the city earlier.

Gavin can’t meet his eyes, hems and haws and answers the question by not answering it.

“Idiot,” Geoff mutters, and Gavin shoots him a look, which he ignores as he studies the two assassins.

Young, just stupid kids. And he’s heard Gavin’s stories about his childhood, the friends he had at the orphanage before this and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out these are the same people. (In name at least.)

“Well, this changes things, doesn’t it.”

Trevor and Alfredo have no idea what the hell that’s even supposed to mean, but Gavin clearly does.

Looks startled, sitting up with this strange expression on his face.

Geoff sighs, odd smile gracing his lips.

“If they’re getting this desperate, we’ll have to move things ahead.”

Which is how Trevor and Alfredo end up discovering Gavin is the missing(presumed dead) prince to their neighboring kingdom???Geoff is a former castle guard who ~fled to this kingdom with his husband not long after the coup.

Realized the man behind the coup suspected Gavin was still alive and started searching for him following vague clues and whatnot to the orphanage the night it was attacked and used the chaos to spirit Gavin away. (Because plot reasons.)

The made it to this city thinking it would be a better place to hide him than some border village or what have you. Bought a small store to bring in money and set about training Gavin and inadvertently start up a resistance cell???

Gavin snorts at that because there was never a chance they wouldn’t get involved in things being who they are, but Geoff and Jack insist Gavin would have done something stupid that forced their hands, so. Yes.

Jack comes home while Trevor and Alfredo are processing everything they’ve learned, and Geoff sends him to help because Jack’s got packages – foods and whatnot that were given as gifts.

And Geoff, okay. Geoff.

Leans forward, making sure to keep his voice low so Gavin won’t hear him and threatens to kill Trevor and Alfredo if they even think of betraying Gavin. Tells them he’s trusting Gavin right now, but he doesn’t know them. Doesn’t trust them, and they’re assassins.

A respected profession, to be sure, but there are always weasels in any walk of life. The ones who are good at faking morals and the like, and he might be old now, but he’s smart.

Trevor doesn’t seem overly impressed by the threats, but he swears he won’t betray Gavin, as does Alfredo – and when Gavin comes back he knows something happened but no one’s talking, so.

Yes.

They agree to fake Geoff’s death, reporting to the assassin’s guild in the city they’ve completed their assignment and send word to their guild master via carrier pigeon or whatever to prevent arousing suspicion anything is wrong.

And then they get roped into helping with the resistance cell, realize it’s larger than expected as they leave the city and meet with more along the way because it’s past time they retook the throne and all that.

Gavin and Alfredo reconnecting quickly while Trevor takes longer to warm up – partly at the surprise of Gavin being alive after all these years, partly because of the fact he’s the prince? (And a little of Trevor’s own secrets.)

It takes time setting everything in motion. Getting word out to various cells that they’re finally ready to act without revealing themselves.

A lot of time spent traveling, shenanigans in which they run into bandits – real and not – along the way. Gavin, Trevor, and Alfredo getting separated from Geoff and Jack after an attack and having to take shelter in an old farm somewhere until the weather lets up.

Trevor got hurt in the fight while watching Gavin’s back and so Gavin fusses over him while Alfredo looks on in amusement (really, he’s the best adjusted out of everyone in this AU and think Gavin and Trevor are the dumbest smart people he knows).

Trevor studying Gavin and talking quietly, Alfredo standing guard and piping up as they talk about their lives after the attack on the orphanage. Gavin sharing what happened with him, guilty about keeping his secret from them but not wanting to endanger than he already had.

Tells them about his plan to sneak away before the attack happened and Alfredo giving Trevor this look because Trevor has secrets of his own, right? And Trevor stiffly telling Gavin about his plans to sneak away and they’re both just like, so stupid?

Trevor reveals he’s from Gavin’s kingdom as well, has an older brother who was some kind of scholar, a researcher in service to the new king – he scoffs at the title, bitter twist to his mouth because the man is no king, merely a petty bully – who sent Trevor away when things became too dangerous.

Intended to send him to stay with relatives in this kingdom, but there was a bandit attack or something and he ended up in the orphanage where he met Alfredo and later Gavin. (How long he spent thinking Gavin died because the bandits might be looking for him instead and thinking he might be able to do something about the baddie if he became an assassin, sneak into the castle and kill him, reunite with his brother and so on.)

They reconcile, Alfredo a little too smug about things, so of course he gets his comeuppance hen Trevor and Gavin share a look. And Gavin grabs Alfredo into play fight, giddy laughter and this relief that they’re not completely changed by their experiences and Trevor and Alfredo fully throwing their lot in with Gavin and the others.

They meet up with Geoff and Jack a few days later and both of them sense something’s changed in their time apart. See the way Trevor’s cool demeanor towards Gavin has softened, the way he and Alfredo are always at his side and decide to let the three of them figure the rest out for themselves. (Idiots that they are.)

Once they cross the border the extend of the tyrant's abuse of the people is more evident, abandoned farms – some because the farmers couldn’t afford the taxes, some simply burned to the ground when they dares speak out.

It gets worse the closer they get to the capital city, Gavin more and more determined to put things right. (And scared, because what if he fails?)

Trevor getting quieter as he watches Gavin, and Alfredo watching both of them.

They join up with the main resistance cell and spend some time going back and forth deciding a plan of attack, and Gavin speaks up when someone brings out a map of the castle showing hidden passageways and the like.

Asks for a drawing implement and adds to it, the passageways he and his mother used when they escaped. Half-remembered but a better way in to the castle than other routes and it’s decided a small party would be best.

Gavin, Geoff, Jack. Trevor and Alfred – a pair of assassins of their ability will be valuable in this. Jeremy, who smuggled the map out of the castle to the resistance cell given to him from an inside source, and a few others.

They infiltrate the castle and get caught up in an ambush – because of course they do – and Gavin ends up separated from the others while the baddie monologues.

There’s a one on one fight where Gavin manages to hold his own, but then the baddie plays dirty – calls in hidden guards he has to fend off and in the fray he gets hit with a throwing knife that’s been dipped in poison.

Just as the baddie is about to kill Gavin, the others break through the barricaded doors for a last minute rescue.

Trevor and Alfredo take up protective positions around Gavin while Geoff and the others deal with the remaining guards and the baddie.

Geoff gets into a tight spot and suddenly Trevor’s there, killing the guard before he can kill Geoff and then he’s gone again, going after the baddie while Alfredo helps deal with the riffraff.

No one notices Gavin following Trevor and the baddie up to one of the castle towers, especially not Trevor or the baddie. So when the baddie corners Trevor who’s lost his weapons, back to a window, both of them are surprised when Gavin appears.

Distracts the baddie long enough for Trevor to snatch up a dropped weapon and kill the baddie with, the two of them staring in shock when they realize they’ve done it.

Killed the tyrant and cleared the way for Gavin to retake his throne, start setting the kingdom to rights and all that.

Go back down to where the others are to find them mopping up, Geoff and Jack running over to Gavin who collapses. (Still poisoned, btw.)

They fuss over him before Alfredo comes over with the dagger used on him that Alfredo pocketed before the real fighting started. He and Trevor figure out which poison was used and the antidote needed to counter it (plot reasons) and Gavin recuperates with Geoff and Jack taking care of things in the meantime.

Trevor or Alfredo can be counted on to guard over Gavin, and thwart a few assassination attempts while he recovers. (Leave their guild, although neither of them mention it to anyone, especially Gavin.)

Shenanigans, in which Gavin is recognized as the missing (presumed dead) prince and a coronation ceremony happens.

Everything looks like it’s going to have a happily ever after, but Trevor is distracted.

Gavin too busy to notice at first, but Alfredo mentions he doesn’t seem himself and Gavin goes to talk to Trevor. Realizes Trevor’s brother is missing and he’s worried.

Afraid he’d been caught or killed before now, that Trevor’s been wasting time that could have been spent looking for him. (A mole for the resistance within the castle walls for so long, surely he would have been discovered by now.)

So Gavin looks around, all these loyal guards – Geoff’s taken up position as head of the castle guard grumbling all the way. (Has his eye on this particular guard, mouthy brat who could be incredible with more training.)

Knows Trevor, that eventually he’ll sneak off on his own to look for his brother now that things are starting to settle, the people realizing that things are changing for the better, and acts first.

Arranges supplies and equipment, money, for Trevor and Alfredo to go find his brother, because of course Alfredo will go with him. (Leaves a note, telling them to come back when they’re ready to and all the documents that will allow them to travel freely in the kingdom until then. Acting as his personal agents or what have you.)

They’re gone for a long time, following what small clues and whatnot they find along the way. The three of them sending letters back and forth, and finally, finally, they come back, Trevor’s brother in tow.

He’d fled when the baddie realized he was the mole, handed the map to Jeremy and acted as a decoy to allow him to get it to the resistance. Gotten caught up in various shenanigans of his own – fake bandits and the like and thrown into a prison on false charges when Trevor and Alfredo caught up to him.

Got him out using their positions in Gavin’s court and spent some time waiting for him to recover before making back for the capital and the castle.

And in the meantime, Gavin’s installed Jack as his main advisor, takes his counsel seriously as he builds up his staff of advisors and whatnot.

Finds suitable candidates for most, but the role of head researcher/what have you is proving difficult – until, of course, Trevor and Alfredo return with Trevor’s brother.

Clever man with a fascination for redstone and its potential.

There’s a bit of unease within the court at first, people recognizing him as someone who was close to the baddie. Worked his way up the ranks until he became the baddie’s most trusted advisor, privy to sensitive information he funneled to the resistance when he could.

Worked with operatives like Jeremy and Michael and other key resistance members who vouch for him.

Still, to avoid the appearance of favoritism Gavin sets up a competition between the people vying for the position, and Ryan (because of course it’s Ryan) winds handily. (And while there’s still grumbling, it’s more thoughtful now, and as time passes it fades away when he doesn’t reveal himself to be the traitor his detractors think he is.)

And then, you know.

Trevor becoming Gavin’s spymaster while Alfredo fades into the background, carrying out assassinations and aiding Trevor in his work.

People thinking Gavin’s too young, inexperienced at being a king, but he has Jack and Geoff helping guide him and several others besides. Makes mistakes, yes, but he’s learning, doing his best and his people learn to love him.

Trevor and Alfredo continue to thwart assassination attempts, sniff out dissenters who have plans to start another coup before they gain any traction.

Geoff is clearly training Michael up to take over as captain of the castle guard with Lindsay as his second in command there.

Jeremy shows an interest in redstone - and Ryan, which is absolutely mutual and entertaining to watch play out for everyone else.

(Gavin goes down to their workshop when his duties get to be a little too much, gets drawn into explanations of their current projects and volunteered as an extra pair of hands. Ryan’s tolerant of his questions and curious about the other brazen fool who’s won Trevor’s head so completely. Jeremy just likes having a similarly minded partner in crime.)

After an assassination attempt that comes a little too close, Trevor insists Gavin pick up his training again. (Terrified about what could happen if he doesn’t, if Trevor and Alfredo are too slow, or away dealing with Gavin’s enemies.)

Which of course leads to close quarters combat, and Trevor pinning Gavin who cheats outrageously by kissing him. Takes advantage of Trevor’s surprise to reverse their positions, smug grin on his face and face bright, bright red.

From the exertion, yes, but also at his boldness. Little bit of fear that he’s overstepped, that things have changed between them – but then Trevor’s kissing him back and it’s all very lovely, indeed.

Until Alfredo complain about being left out of things. (He’s been gone for the better part of a week on a mission for Trevor, and this is what he comes home to? Come on, guys.)

Gavin and Trevor sharing a look before they gang up on him, and manage to make up for being so unbearably inconsiderate of him. (Thoroughly.)

And then happily ever after for everyone, because of course it is.

#shadeofazmeinya #prompt fills #gavredo #gavfredo #background pairings #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #this got away from me so quickly?#but i have a lot of feels about the whole minecraft kings aus #and super dramatic storylines #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Replies

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iiimber · 6 years

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Hey, so unusual request, I think! Could you write some heacanons or something for All Might, Present Mic, Aizawa, Deku, and Todoroki with a fem roommate who isn't romantically involved with them? A super excitable woman who stands at 5'8 even, is chubby, loves baking and is unashamed of being Quirkless? She'd be an artist, too (paintbrushes in a messy bun, paint splatters constantly on her hands and clothes, etc.). Also she's a literal mom friend, beware~ (thanks a bundle, you're amazing!!!!)

ah not at all unusual! i actually love platonic relationships, i don’t write them as much as i should-- they’re really fun!!!

Toshinori Yagi

You’re such a bundle of joy and excitement in his overall busy and chaotic life-- Toshinori really appreciates having someone like you in his life. He needs something stable, and your comforting and kind presence offered that stability.

Being his roommate, it’s highly likely that you come to find the truth about All Might. He trusts you, and as one of his closet friends he counts on you when he feels down about his body, or upcoming retirement. Your comfort in being quirkless was odd-- in a good way. It was nice to see someone so unashamed about it; it helps him after One for All is gone.

He has a strict diet due to his condition, and you’ve always been nothing but helpful when it comes to sticking with it. You cook him his meals and make sure he eats and take his supplement pills; sometimes he’s forgetful and your nurturing nature is welcomed. Often, he’ll come home to find you baking, covered in paint and flour; it’s a nice sight to come home to.

Hizashi Yamada

Honestly? You and Hizashi are like platonic soulmates. Your personalities fit so well together, he knew as soon as you moved it how perfect it would be. You’re so upbeat, all the time-- so is he! He loves being able to share that level of joy with someone. His best friend is an introverted grump, he needs you.

You’re quirkless, and so unashamed of it. Hizashi finds you to be strong for this, and really, deeply admires it. It’s not often that he gets down, but when he does you’re right there-- hyping him and his quirk up without ever sounding bitter and jealous. You’re kind and motherly, quirky and fun and he really, really digs that!

Your hobbies are just as fun as you too! He can’t cook or bake for his life, but he’ll never waste an opportunity to learn and make something with you-- it’s fun and a good way to wind down after a long day. Hizashi is an artist-- more in a musical sense but still actually has quiet in eye for the more physical aspect of art. Catch the two of you, on his days off, painting away together and flicking each other with paintbrushes. It’s just a really fun, healthy friendship!

Aizawa Shouta

He’ll admit it; he was nervous about how excitable you were when you first moved in. He’s surrounded by loudmouth friends and chatty children all day-- he didn’t know if he’d be able to handle a roommate like that. His worry was proved wrong though-- your excitable nature never pushing his boundaries or annoying him. You were happy, in a kind and relaxing sort of way-- he grows to really enjoy it.

Aizawa, while making sure to drink protein shakes and eat just enough to give him strength through the day, is not very healthy. He hardly gets a good, full nights sleep anymore-- and you’re motherly instincts go quite crazy with him. You’ll bake him food-- full of energy and protein and send him off for the day. On his rare days off you make sure he goes to bed early and wake up late-- helping out with the chores as much as you can so he doesn’t have to worry as much.

This man enjoys simple things. You’re quirkless-- nothing showy that he has to worry about and he likes how unashamed you are of it. You have a talent though, painting in your little studio quite often and trailing paint around the house. When he’s actually able to sleep but can’t, he’ll come in and watch you after making two mugs of tea. Your strokes against the canvases calm him.

Midoriya Izuku

When he was starting as a sidekick, he was quite low on money. Getting a roommate was almost a most, but a female roommate made him nervous. It was only after you moved in, and the almost instant easy nature between the two of you, did Midoriya realize his nerves were silly. While he couldn’t tell you, you being quirkless sparked an immediate bond on his side-- you were so fine with it, something he never was and he had to admire you for that.

Midoriya is honestly a mom friend too-- always making sure everyone is okay, if they need someone to talk to; you two together make the Ultimate mom friend, Dekusquad beware. In all seriousness, he has a lot on his shoulders; having a friend like you be there and comfort him and make him feel important is a must.

Midoriya used to draw a lot! He says he wasn’t the best, but he was better than most in his class. He never dabbled in paints before, so he’s always so intrigued when your bring out your tools and start on a new piece. There’s a lot of questions on his part; why you choose those colors, why you used that certain technique...he may take notes. Lots of notes.

Todoroki Shouto

While he’d never outright say it, your presence in Todorokis’ life is extremely important to him. Except Midoriya and co. he hasn’t had a lot of friends. He finds platonic relationships to be very crucial.

You’re fun and joyful, never failing to make him feel a little lighter with your happy-go-lucky attitude and make him smile. He’s not a very cheerful person, but being surrounding by people who is really nice. You’re so kind, always making sure he eats or gets enough sleep-- a motherly feeling that he’s missed for quite a large portion of his life.

Todoroki feels stress a lot more strongly than others may, and it was you that suggested baking or painting to calm down. He liked the feeling of making and preparing food, the steps to everything taking his mind off so many problems and anxieties; you’re very helpful, guiding him through it and complimenting him as his ability to bake gets better and better. Your friendship is very valued, and he only hopes you get as much out of it as he does.

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lonelypond · 5 years

Text

Jingle Bell Jazz, Ch. 2

Love Live, NicoMaki, 2.8K, 2/?

Bibi hits the rehearsal room, but the mood is less than jolly...

Chapter Two

Nico was running late. She hated that. And too darn pretty and smelling like money and musk would probably be ten minutes early, having been dropped off by the family chauffeur. Nico couldn’t stop imagining what that would do to the redhead’s already snooty attitude. But Nozomi had put all of her comfortable winter wear in the wash, leaving her with a very form fitting pencil skirt and a pretty white blouse with a holly pattern scattered over it. Nico had draped a gray shawl over her hair before putting on her pea coat.

Maki was at the piano, shuffling through sheets of music, Eli running through scales on her sax at the window.

“Good morning, ladies. Let’s get to it.” Nico announced brightly as she opened the door.

“You’re late.” Eli grumped, interrupting her warm up.

“That’s Nozomi’s fault. She decided to mix Nico’s laundry with hers so Nico had to improvise.”

Maki had guessed wrong. No pants. Today, Nico had opted for a form fitting skirt, black, and a white blouse, three quarter sleeves, with a seasonal holly branch pattern scattered all over it. Maki wondered if the singer had opted for stockings again, stretching out a little as she settled into the piano so she could get a better view of the lower half of Nico’s outfit. Nope, black tights. Probably warm. Maki had leaned back from the piano to catch her glimpse, which when Nico noticed, her hands went to her hips and she met the curious purple gaze with a discouraging scowl. Maki put her nose back into the music propped in front of her.

Maki had dressed down as far as she was willing, gray turtleneck and one of her favorite black pleated skirts. Ayase, as seemed to be her habit, had opted for a flashier style than anyone else, in a green and blue windowpane shirtwaist dress, shorter than what was considered fashionable.

“All right, ladies, let’s get to it.” Nico did a quick shuffle, spinning, “I’m tired of picking the next train wreck. How about you, Eli?”

“I was working on “Silver Bells.”" Maki would have given half her trust fund for her voice to sound more confident, “It’s new. People will probably appreciate the novelty.”

Nico twisted her lip, glancing at Eli, who nodded.

“All right ki…”

“MA…”

“Maki,” Nico corrected herself with an apologetic tilt of her head and Maki felt hopeful that this session might be both more productive and friendly. ”At least it’s not in French.”

There went Maki’s optimism.

###

"Silver Bells" clanged. Badly. Even Eli’s temper was fraying. Nico had been stomping around the room during Eli’s solos, all of which Maki had interrupted, starting to rejoin the melody too early.

“Do you even know how to listen?” Nico snarled, on the divan, head in her hands, no longer able to look at the piano or its mistress.

“Yes…”

“We can’t play a show like this, Nico…” Eli sounded panicky, “That audience’ll eat us alive. It’ll ruin our reputation. And your chances with Tsubasa.”

“Nico knows.”

Nico looked tiny, Eli sat next to her, sax in one hand, the other around Nico’s shoulders, “What are we going to do?”

Maki knew the gloom in the room was her fault. But it wasn’t her fault that jazz piano was so different from classical piano. Or that she had never played with a group before. Her initial arrogance was taunting her now, undermining any empathy she might express for Nico and Eli’s distress. Nico stood, somehow elegant in her simple skirt and blouse, twisting her hair up again with a graceful gesture, then tapping Eli on the forehead, “Nico can do anything. We’ll do what Maki suggested. After all, It’s only one night.” Nico’s forced enough confidence in her voice to share with Eli, “You play, Nico will figure out a way to signal the rookie, and no one will have enough time to catch on.”

Eli glanced up, hopeful, “That could work.”

“It’s going to have to.” Nico had her hands behind her neck, as she wandered, “Nico will sell it, no one will be the wiser.”

Eli nodded.

“What kind of signal?” Maki’s voice was soft, but snapped the other two musicians out of their private moment.

Nico tilted her head back, eyes closed, hands still behind her neck. “Not a wink, maybe Nico will wrinkle her nose or flick a finger or something.”

“There could be a few.” Maki suggested.

“Yeah.” Nico put her hands on her hips, chin tucked down, blowing out a long breath as she reshuffled the cards she had available for this show. “But you just play, Eli, and don’t fret. Nico will work out a system.”

The saxophonist relaxed, her shoulders easing down, and her grip on the sax becoming less like holding onto the rail of the Titanic.

Eli was relieved, but Maki sensed Nico steeling herself, armoring up inside. How could jazz be this hard? Music was supposed to be orderly and organized, notes and measures solid foundations for art and culture. Jazz seemed to take that and paint mad notes and crazy colors all over, a slapstick mural of innovation. Maki had only a rudimentary knowledge of the genre and was a fan of a few singers, Ella Fitzgerald and Nancy Wilson for two, but she had never really considered the mechanics of the music they produced, how each singer, each quartet or quintet could take the same song and deliver it with such individual flair.

“Nico, Eli?”

Both of the women looked toward the piano, surprised at Maki’s contrite tone.

“I’m sorry.” Maki half smiled.

Nico waved off the apology. “You’re doing us a favor, actually, Maki, so don’t sweat it. We’ll cope. You don’t have to worry either.”

Eli nodded, “We appreciate you taking time away from your family during the holiday season.”

“Let’s try a new song.” The atmosphere in the room had eased and Maki decided to try to be more of a team player, “Winter Wonderland is one of my favorites. And works just as well post Christmas.”

“Especially if we get the first snowfall by then.” Eli’s eyes brightened.

“Eli’s part reindeer.” Nico chuckled, “She prances once there’s enough snow to make everything Christmas card perfect.”

Eli, as best she could with sax still in hand, swept into an Arabesque.

Nico was leaning on the piano, “Too many Nutcrackers as a child. Ruined her for the season.”

Maki, emboldened by the increasingly friendly vibe, started the “Waltz Of The Snowflakes.” Eli handed her sax to Nico, who accepted it with a respectful bow, and then the blonde began to dance across the rooms, arms smoothly transitioning from first to second position as she spun to the pace of the waltz.

“If you like that, try Ellington’s.” Nico was drumming her fingers to the tune, watching Eli, but finally comfortable in casual conversation with Maki. “He just released a version for Christmas. Nico is a little sorry there’s no lyrics.”

Eli stopped, with a graceful curtsey, “Thank you, Maki. I needed that.”

“And now we need lunch.” Nico announced, “I packed sandwiches and a Thermos of coffee. You like sandwiches, right?”

Maki nodded, trying not to salivate. Breakfast had been burnt toast. She’d expected to be in Maine by now so she’d run through the meals prepared by the now vacationing chef and been forced to rummage in the pantry.

Eli perched on the windowsill, loosening her ponytail, “Nico is the best cook. Nozomi and I are spoiled when she has the time.”

“Nico looks forward to not spending hours hustling drinks when this Tsubasa deal goes through.” Nico handed Maki a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, “Ham and cheese, okay?”

“Sounds great.”

Maki bit in, savoring the warmth of the clove that had spread through the ham and the slight tang of mustard where the sharpness of the cheese met the airiness of the bread. The Nishikino chef could take notes. "This is delicious.”

Nico gleamed at the praise, eyes sparkling.

###

Maki went back to the piano slowly, reluctant to touch the instrument for the first time in her memory. Nothing musical Maki had done on purpose had worked yet and she did not want to be responsible for dispelling the air of camaraderie lingering in the room. Nico had been to the piano first, pulling the "Silver Bells" music off the stand, staring at it for a minute like she was going to tear it into pieces.

“What do you want to try, Nico?” Post break, Eli sounded much cheerier.

Nico was sorting through sheets of music, “"White Christmas""? Kinda slow, but maybe that’ll help us.” Nico offered pages to Maki, “Unless there’s something else you’re interested in?”

Maki slid into the bench, near enough to Nico that they were leaning over the music together.

“What do you think, Maki?”

Maki propped the music on the stand. “"White" Christmas it is. We are supposed to get snow sometime, so might as well get ready.”

“Harasho!” Eli blew a herald’s greeting on her sax.

Maki glanced up at Nico, who shook her head, “Winter weather brings out her Russian blood.”

And a "White Christmas" began.

###

Things were going marginally better than ‘Silver Bells.’ Nico was working on a system where she touched her hair or her ear for Maki to get ready to go back to accompaniment. Maki almost had the knack of it, but she found herself thinking that her playing clunked, her fingers were too timid, not leading. But Nico didn’t want her to lead, Nico wanted her to respond, or just support. But the music in front of her wanted her to play it as written, although both Nico and Eli had scribbled notes about altered chords above the bars holding the traditional melody.

Just as Maki thought they were going to make it through once without a stern tap on the piano from Nico, the door flew open and Nozomi strolled in, carrying her trumpet case, white coat over one arm, pretty satin black swing dress glinting like patent leather.

“Hello, ladies. How’s the harmony?”

Eli played a few bars of “Let It Snow” as Nozomi’s hand found the saxophonist’s waist to pull her in for a kiss on the cheek. Eli’s tune got even more playful; Maki envied Eli’s ability to translate her mood so instantly into music.

Then Nozomi’s attention turned to her, so Maki concentrated on the music in front of her.

“NICO-CHI!” Nozomi sounded upset with Nico. Maki looked up, but Nozomi was heading straight for her. Maki pushed the piano bench back, arms in a protective posture, not sure what to do as Nico and Eli both seemed confused. “No wonder things aren’t going well. This...” Nozomi grabbed the music off the holder, “is not how we learn.” Nozomi bent over, face too too close to Maki’s, green eyes searching for agreement, her hand heavy on Maki’s shoulder. Maki fought the urge to shake it off. “I’m sorry they did this to you, Maki. I won’t let them do it again.”

“What...what...what’s going on?” Maki was starting to panic. Why was there all this drama about Christmas music in her life suddenly? Christmas music should be a way to herald in harmony, kindness, and Santa, pleasant instrumental exercises in shared cultural traditions, and yet, Nozomi was literally in her face, making music in potentia, on the page, seem like a murder weapon.

Nozomi was pulled away from Maki, tossed back to where Eli caught her before she could stumble. Nico, looking tired again, didn’t bother to glance in Maki’s direction, just turning to confront Nozomi, “She’s not ready for…”

“She’s a classically trained musician, Nico. And a good one, if the rumors in the halls are right. You should give her a chance. This...” Nozomi raised a sheet of music she’d retained, holding it by one corner as if it had been dragged through a storm water runoff drain, “is an insult.”

Insult? Maki stood up. What hadn’t Nico or Eli told her? Was there another way?

Eli put her sax to the side, “We don’t have the time, sugar.”

“No.” Nico voice had dropped, like the sash when a window was slammed shut. “And she isn’t picking up on…”

“MAKI!” Temper, lost, “MAKI isn’t picking up on…” vocal fury dwindled as Maki actually heard what she was quoting.

“See.” Nico sounded kinder, tapping her temple, eyes slanting in Maki’s direction, “there’s a delay up there. It’ll kill us.”

“Yeah.” Eli’s agreement was somber, dragged out. Nozomi actually paused, brow wrinkled.

Maki grabbed Nozomi, dragging her out of the room, “Tell me…” a pause as Nozomi focused on her, “what you’re talking about.”

Nozomi’s hands were together, palms touching, in front of her mouth, as she thought. Speaking, she shook them at Maki, “If you don’t learn the music by ear, you’ll never keep up.”

Maki was processing, considering performance versus practice, how a piece by Saint-Saëns looked on paper compared to how it flowed through her fingers, what altered between reading a piece and hearing it.

“Maki?” Nozomi prodded, gently. “Do you understand what I mean?”

Maki could hear Nico grumbling on the other side of the door, but she had her weight against it and the doorknob stopped between her hands. Nico wasn’t getting through unless Eli helped her and Maki would have bet that Eli was back at the window, babying her sax.

“I think so.”

“But can you feel it?” Nozomi sighed.

“Huh?”

“Your eyes on the music alter how you think, your ears stop working as well as they could.”

“No, they don’t.” Maki’s denial was instant.

“Really? Have you ever even considered it might before?”

Maki was suddenly fascinated by the wear on the floor.

“Didn’t think so.”

“Why don’t you play with them?” Maki counterthrust.

Nico had gotten to cursing as the door bounced a little back and forth in Maki’s hands. Maki was still smirking with amusement, but If Nico didn’t give up soon, Maki was going to have to let go. No sense in risking fatigue damage to her hands.

Nozomi giggled, “Eli loves performing; I love watching her perform. She and Nico have amazing chemistry. A trumpet just doesn’t fit their sound. And Eli just adores…” Nozomi paused as Nico could be heard…

“Let me out you snobby stupid ass.”

“That midget gremlin.” Nozomi practically cooed while speaking with enough volume that Nico could hear over her struggles.

Maki snorted as Nozomi smiled angelically and Nico continued finding insults that built off snob.

“You heard me, super snooty...arrrgghh.”

“Try listening. You can always go back to the page if you need.”

Maki nodded, then let go of the door knob at the same time as she stepped to the side, to watch Nico come stumbling out in the hall, “what the...are you TRYING TO DAMAGE NICO.”

Nozomi softened Nico’s potential head injury as the singer rammed into breast not corridor wall. Before Nozomi could say anything, Maki went back into the room, Nico pivoting immediately, rushing to keep up, ignoring Nozomi. Maki stood, waiting for Nico to catch up, and met Nico’s glance, stunned by all the reactions twisting like threads of crimson, hope, worry, suspicion, frustration, hesitation.

“I can do "Silent Night" from memory. Let’s start there.”

“Oh good, it’s a holy jam. Nico’ll need a different dress. And a veil.”

Eli snorted. Maki wondered exactly what about Nico’s dress made it inappropriate for religious carols.

###

Infuriating. It was infuriating that Maki couldn’t stop her piano playing from running away from her intentions and running over Nico’s vocals, unable to keep an even tempo. It was infuriating how Eli had taken to sitting next to Maki on the piano bench, and nudging when a solo was about to start or finish. It was infuriating that after the first ten times when Nico stopped to glare enough that Maki could feel her fight or curl up in a ball response kick in, that pity began to dilute the rage in Nico’s eyes. And when Eli stood up and called the session, after Maki had somehow stabbed "Silent Night" with chords stolen straight from "A Night On Bald Mountain", Maki just kept ripping into the holiday solemnity, ferociously pounding keys. Nico and Eli let her play it out, Eli putting away her sax, Nico taking a drink of water and silently watching the seemingly possessed redhead.

Maki stopped, panting into the silence, the torrent and torment of the notes she’d just played still reverberating everywhere. She hung her head over the keyboard, hair falling in front of her eyes, sweat dripping, heart pounding. No one said anything and then she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and the vibrations stilled.

“We’ll figure it out, Maki.” Nico squeezed. Maki, suddenly tired, let her head fall to the side, until it collided with Nico’s forearm, “Take it easy.”

Maki shook her head. No taking it easy, She was going to figure this out. If it took until her fingers bled.

A/N: Clothes from the 50's, music from the early 60's, Nico and Maki being timeless Nico and Maki..cheers.

#nicomaki #Jingle Bell Jazz #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Ayase Eli #Bibi #Tojo Nozomi #jazz #Christmas #Holiday #fanfic

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chasholidays · 6 years

Photo

With Flowers on the Window Sill

A Gilmore Girls AU for @prsephonies and @blakebrother! Graphic by @bgonemydear

"Okay," says Clarke. "Here's what I don't get about Unity Day."

"It's a made-up holiday," Bellamy grumbles, automatic. "You don't get anything about it." He eyes her mug, which she's been nudging closer for the last few minutes, hoping he'll get the hint. "You've had enough."

"It's coffee, not crack."

"Caffeine is still a drug. It should be controlled like tobacco and alcohol."

"Have you ever considered that if you didn't want to give people coffee, you maybe shouldn't have opened a diner?"

"People are fine, it's you I'm worried about," he says, but he refills her mug.

She takes a deep sip and then focuses her attention back on him. "Here's what I don't get," she says, drumming her fingers on the counter. "You grew up here. You've lived here for your entire life. And yet every year, when we hit a weird Arcadia celebration, you're still angry about it."

"Sorry, are you telling me I can't be angry about things? You?"

"No, not that. I'm just trying to figure out the history here. You've lived in Arcadia for your entire life, these things have been going for your entire life. Did you like Unity Day when you were a kid, and then at some point realize it was shitty and stop liking it? Like how some places are renaming Columbus Day because Columbus was racist. Or were you, like, eight years old and picketing against local holidays? Paint me a word picture."

He snorts, and she feels a small swoop of triumph in her stomach.

Clarke still thinks of herself as a new addition to Arcadia, even though she's been here for almost ten years. It's a town with the kind of memory that doesn't quite make sense to her, as a girl from the rich part of the big city. Her parents had moved there only a year before she was born, and even living in the same place for her whole childhood, Clarke never felt rooted, not the way people feel rooted in Arcadia. There are feuds that go back generations here, property disputes that span centuries.

She's still figuring out how things fit together, and Bellamy is a part of that mystery. He seems to have decided his place in Arcadia is the town grump, but he's only thirty-four, not that much older than Clarke herself. And he's been the town grump for as long as she's been here, and had already settled into the role by the time she moved in, which means he must have started pretty young. And now that Clarke can, on occasion, make him laugh, she figures it's time to press the advantage and see what she can find out about him.

"When I was a kid, I was always planning to get out of here," he admits, watching her sidelong. "I hated all this--small-town bullshit."

"You say, like you don't still hate it."

"Not like I used to. Before my mom died, I just didn't do any of this stuff. When I was a kid I just stayed inside and read during town holidays." She has to laugh, and he glares. "What?"

"I'm just imagining it. Sulky teenage Bellamy reading--" She thinks it over, clucking her tongue. "Greek tragedies. Alone in your room while the rest of the town celebrates."

"Pretty much. I was so ready to leave all of this behind."

Clarke sobers a little; she knows this part of the story. "And then your mom died."

"And then my mom died. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I live here. I want to. After O left, I thought about going too. I could have sold the store and taken off."

"So why didn't you?"

He looks out to the middle distance, really thinking over the response. "Because I wanted to leave just to leave. I didn't have anywhere I wanted to go. I made up my mind when I was a kid that I wasn't going to end up like my mom, stuck in some dead-end town. But once I wasn't stuck, I realized I like a lot of stuff here."

"Just not the weird holidays and traditions?"

"I'm a conscientious objector," he says. "Reminding people that you can be part of the community without buying into every single one of Mrs. Kane's weirdo traditions."

"And you are, aren't you?" she says, with a smile.

He just cocks his head. "I'm what?"

"Part of the community."

"The curmudgeon," he agrees, and she laughs.

Madi comes in before she figures out a follow-up, taking the seat next to Clarke and beaming at Bellamy, and that's kind of a relief. It takes some of the pressure off her.

"Got an A on my Latin test," she tells Bellamy. "So, free coffee?"

"Like I ever charge you for coffee," he says. "No refills, though. Just because your mom has bad habits doesn't mean you have to. Let me see the test."

She was clearly expecting the question; she already has the sheet out, and she and Bellamy trade mug for paper, like she really is paying him. Bellamy leans back against the wall, scanning the text.

Bellamy's affection for Madi was the first thing that started changing Clarke's mind about him, once she noticed it. For the first few years in Arcadia, before she'd settled in, before she'd gotten used to her new life, she didn't come to the diner much. It wasn't until Madi was eight or nine that she realized that she was in here all the time after school, working on homework, and that Bellamy not only didn't object but encouraged her, helped her with homework questions and gave her free cookies sometimes.

Clarke hadn't dealt with it particularly well at the time, and the argument about how he was butting into her daughter's life and how he wouldn't have to do that if she was around more had kept the two of them at odds for a couple more years.

Now, she's finally settling into liking him, and it feels like where they should have been all along. She thinks she was meant to be friends with Bellamy Blake.

"How was school?" she asks Madi, while Bellamy reads. "Aside from the Latin test."

She shrugs. "Fine. Kind of boring. We started doing soccer in gym, that's fun. I'm a pretty good goalie." She narrows her eyes, suspicion creeping into her features. "What are you doing here, anyway? Don't you have work?"

Bellamy looks up from Madi's test. "She makes a good point. Did you come here just to make fun of me about Unity Day?"

"What's wrong with Unity Day?"

"Don't get him started," says Clarke. "I actually wanted to ask if you'd partner with me for it."

"For Unity Day," he says, dubious. "Which we've just established that I hate."

"I can't cook," says Clarke, and Madi snorts.

"Wow, understatement of the decade, Mom."

Clarke ignores her. "I want to have some food to offer for the Unity Day walk, and I need someone to cater. I figured I'd rather pay you than someone I don't know, but if you hate it that much--"

"You want me to make you food for Unity Day?"

"It's a good opportunity to get people into the gallery," she says. "From outside of Arcadia. I need to put my best foot forward, and that means--I don't even know. Hot chocolate? Maybe some cookies?"

Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest, jaw tight. "What's in it for me?"

"Besides money?"

"Money isn't everything, Clarke."

She rolls her eyes, but it's not as if she didn't see this coming. Stubborn asshole is his brand. "You have somewhere else to be for Unity Day."

"You're going to give me a paid vacation?"

"You can hang out at the gallery," says Clarke. "In the back, if you want. Say you're cooking, read a book. Whatever you want. But you won't have to be here, dealing with tourists and wanting to murder them."

Bellamy shifts a little, clearly weighing the appeal of this idea, and Clarke sits back, letting him process. She does, for the most part, understand his perspective. She doesn't love all of the quaint little Arcadia traditions, and Unity Day is a particularly bizarre and misguided one, a town-wide equivalent of the phrase happy holidays, where they try to honor all the various winter festivals by creating a non-denominational day to just celebrate coming together as a community.

She can see the appeal, but overall, she thinks the execution is lacking. Still, it's basically a holiday fair, and this is her first holiday season with her own gallery. She wants to do it right, which means bringing people in the door.

"You don't bake?" he finally asks her.

"What?"

"I feel like you'd be a good baker."

"Based on what?"

"You're--" He glances at Madi and apparently rethinks what he was going to say. "Detail-oriented. My sister always hated baking because she had to follow the recipe exactly. She liked just throwing stuff together to see what happened."

"I guess I never tried much," she says. "My mom never cooked, neither did my dad. We had people to do that for us."

"And instead of developing life skills, you decided to live off takeout and caffeine. Sounds about right. You have to help me bake the cookies," he decides.

"What?"

"I'll do your Unity Day catering if you help me with the cookies."

"I'm taking out the cost of my labor out of what I pay you."

"Honestly, you should be paying me extra for teaching you to bake. You can help too, if you want," he adds to Madi, and she shrugs.

"I don't know if I really want to witness Mom's first attempt at baking. Maybe, like, the fourth batch, once someone else eats some first. So I know it's safe."

"Thanks. Really." She turns her attention to Bellamy, watching him again. He's looking back at her, just as steady. "So, deal, right? You're in?"

"I'm in, yeah. If you make me talk to art gallery patrons--"

"I want to sell paintings, not scare everyone off," she teases. "You can hide in the back reading Antigone. I promise."

"Cool, pleasure doing business with you. No," he adds, when Madi holds her mug up for him.

"Mom says it's okay."

"Your mom is an enabler. I'm putting my foot down. Eat a vegetable."

"Or we could go home and order Chinese food," says Clarke, and Bellamy rolls his eyes.

"It's not going to be my fault when you two die of malnutrition."

"It's definitely not," she agrees. "We can figure out when we're baking later this week?"

He touches his finger to his head, something like a salute. "Looking forward to it."

It sounds almost genuine.

“When’s that holiday fair you’re having?” Abby asks, on Friday.

Clarke and Madi exchange a look, wary. The weekly dinners with Clarke’s mother are still relatively new, and still a little difficult. Clarke’s decision to keep Madi after her parents died never sat right with Abby, and it wasn’t until Jake died two years ago that she reached out to reconnect. Clarke and her dad, at least, had maintained friendly contact in the post-Madi world, but Abby struggled.

Clarke’s happy to have her mother back, but she always feels a little like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Unity Day?” Madi supplies, tentative, and Abby snaps her fingers.

“That was it. I was thinking I could come down.”

This time, Madi actually looks alarmed, and Clarke doesn’t bother hiding her own shock from her mother either.

“You want to come to Arcadia?”

“I don’t feel as if I’ve been entirely fair,” says Abby. It’s simultaneously an understatement and a staggering admission. Only her mother can pull that off. “You’ve put so much work into your gallery and I haven’t even been down to see it.”

“It’s a long drive,” says Clarke, not sure why she’s arguing, except that Abby in Arcadia feels wrong, like the world knocked of its orbit. Arcadia exists outside of Abby Griffin.

“One you make every week for dinner,” Abby shoots back. “Do you not want me there?”

The question sounds genuine, but there’s no way to say no without sounding like an asshole. Her mother wants to come see her new business. As Abby said, if anyone is in the wrong here, it’s her for taking so long.

“Just surprised,” she says. “It’s two weeks from Saturday.”

“Clarke’s going to make cookies,” Madi adds, and Clarke shoots her a glare.

Abby looks mildly shocked. “You are?”

“Not on my own. Most of the businesses have some snacks out to lure in visitors, so the guy who owns the diner is going to help me out with cookies and stuff.”

“The diner? I’m surprised Arcadia doesn’t have a bakery.”

It does, of course, but Clarke doesn’t really know Nyko very well. He’s a nice guy who certainly would have made cookies if Clarke paid him, but—well, he’s not Bellamy.

“Bellamy bakes too,” says Madi. “And he and Clarke are friends.”

“And this way I get to work on my baking,” Clarke says. Friends feels like an overly optimistic take on her and Bellamy's relationship, but arguing with Madi about it in front of her mother will not make anything better.

"Perfect," says Abby. "So I'll see you then?"

There's still no way to say no, so she tries a smile instead. "Yeah. Looking forward to it."

Bellamy takes baking seriously, which doesn't really surprise her, but it is kind of adorable. Not only does he convince Nyko to let them use the bakery kitchen, but he brings an apron and a hairnet for Clarke, as well as a thermos of coffee.

"I thought you wanted me to cut back."

"This is all you're getting today," he says. "I assume that's actually less than you usually have."

From an academic standpoint, it's an interesting statement. It's not like Clarke carefully monitors her caffeine intake on a daily basis to see how many pints of coffee she's drinking. She just sort of has it until she stops wanting it.

"Well, thanks anyway," she says. "For your mild enabling. And the apron."

“Yeah, it didn’t sound like you had your own.” He wets his lips, and if Clarke didn’t know better, she’d say he was nervous. But he definitely knows how to bake. “So, I figured iced sugar cookies. They’re pretty safe, in terms of allergens, and I got stuff so we can do one gluten free batch. And you’re an artist, so you can handle decorations, right?”

“I’ve never worked on cookies, but probably, yeah. What shapes are approved for Unity Day? I’m guessing no trees.”

“No evergreens, anyway. Snowmen are cool. Stars. I was thinking we could do palettes, though.”

“Palettes?”

“The little, uh—“ He pulls out a piece paper, where he’s sketched one of the round palettes. He prepped for this. “I figure we can make a giant batch and recruit Madi to help decorate. A coat of white on all of them, and then colored dots for paint. Unless you’d rather go winter-themed.”

“No, this is perfect,” she says, and means it. “Really, thanks.”

He looks so genuinely pleased that her heart stops for a second. She's never seen him look so unguarded before, and she likes it. "Awesome. Shouldn't be too hard." He nods once. "Okay, aprons on, hands washed. Ready to start?"

Clarke wasn't expecting it to be bad or anything. On the contrary, she's been excited for this all week, but it's been the kind of excitement where she looking forward a lot more to spending time with Bellamy than she was actually doing the cooking. She thought he'd make the baking better, and while he definitely does, she also actually really likes baking. Seeing the ingredients coming together, watching the texture of the batter change as they work, it's all really neat.

Bellamy is smug about it, but that's not really bad either. "I told you you'd like baking," is all he says, and she elbows him.

She'd been a little wary about the early start he'd requested, but it takes them until eleven to finish the batches of dough, and then they apparently have to cool for a while before they're used.

"We could grab lunch?" she asks, voice coming out more hopeful than she really meant it to.

But he just smiles. "Yeah, I told Miller we were going to hit the diner when we were done here. Do you want to get Madi?"

"No, she's set. Hanging out with Anna for a while. We might be able to talk them into helping us decorate, but I don't think lunch is enough of a draw."

"Fair enough, lunch is boring." He waits until they're in the booth to say, "You know, she was telling me about your mom the other day. Madi, I mean."

"Yeah, she's coming down for Unity Day. I think Madi and I are both just waiting for it to go wrong."

He drums his fingers on the table, thinking. "So, can I ask? Or is it too soon?"

"Ask what?"

"I don't actually know what happened with you and Madi. Or you and your mom. I remember when you showed up in town, but--"

But she'd arrived just as the diner was opening up, and between his being busy with that and her being busy with Madi, it was at least two years before she learned Bellamy Blake was the male owner of the diner and not a woman she'd been nodding to on her way to work at the bus stop.

"So, no background at all?"

"I know she's not your biological daughter," he says. "But she was, what, four when you guys moved here?"

"Five." She sighs. "It was probably kind of like you and the store, actually."

"Yeah?"

"I was in college, feeling kind of--not lost, exactly, but I couldn't figure out why I wasn't happier. I was doing everything I'd wanted to do since I was a kid, but I wasn't happy."

"So you dropped out of school and adopted a kid?"

"Not exactly. I did, but--I was interning at a hospital over the summer, and Madi's parents were in a car crash. Her dad died in the crash, but her mom made it to the hospital, and she made me promise to make sure her daughter was taken care of. And I know I didn't have to do it," she adds, because she's had this conversation so many times she has her lines memorized. "I know there were a thousand other things I could have done besides taking her myself. But I wanted to."

"And your mom didn't think you should?"

"No. My dad got it a little more, but--my mom's a doctor, she wanted me to be a doctor too. So she took it pretty personally when I dropped out of college to move to a small town and raise a kid."

"Which is why your incredibly rich family wasn't helping you out with fiances?"

"My dad did a little," she says. "He made sure we had enough money to find a place, and--" She shrugs. "Look, I know how lucky I am. They never would have let us starve or anything. But my mom made it clear that if I wanted her help, I'd have to get someone else to take care of Madi."

"And now she's trying to make friends?" He doesn't sound impressed.

"My dad died a couple years ago, it made her reconsider a lot of things. If I asked her for money now, she'd probably say yes, but--"

"But then you'd be asking her for money."

"Yeah. I know the self-made person thing is bullshit, but--I've been getting by fine on my own for all these years. If I tell her I need her help now, I feel like it's admitting to her that I can't. I ask for stuff for Madi," she adds. "For Christmas and birthdays. Just not for me."

"I'm not going to say I get it," he admits. "But you're good, right? The gallery's doing okay?"

"Yeah, and it's--this feels a lot more like my life, I guess. Not just what my parents decided for me. And I like it here. I'm happy this is where we ended up."

"Me too," he says, like he means it, and Clarke feels warm down to her toes.

"So, do I need to do anything special?" Bellamy asks, on Unity Day.

It's been a slightly weird week. It wasn't as if Clarke hadn't known she liked him, and even that she was attracted to him, but those vague, easy-to-ignore crush feelings have kicked into full gear since they made the cookies together. It's not actually out-of-character for her to go to the diner every day, but it feels weightier now, like when she went to the dining hall at the same time Lexa did freshman year so she could just happen to run into her.

But if Bellamy's noticed, he doesn't mind. He seems happy to have her around, and he's even stopped by the gallery a few times, ostensibly because he's checking to see how she's setting up for the fair, but Clarke's pretty sure it's actually just that they're friends.

And maybe he wants to make out. That would be nice.

"Special?" she asks.

"I don't know, your mom's here. Do you need backup? Is there a special signal you want to use to tell me that you need me to come and tell you there's an emergency?"

"I thought you were going to be hiding in the back, never interacting with anyone."

"Not the whole time." He rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry, did you not want anyone to see me? I can--"

"Bellamy," she says, smiling. "If you want to hang out, talking to tourists, be my guest, but you don't have to. I promise I'll be fine. My mom's not that scary."

"Is Madi going to be around?"

"Some, yeah. She's mostly hanging out with friends, but she'll stop by. We're getting dinner at your place, actually."

"You're taking your rich mom to my diner?" he asks, sounding dubious.

"I like your diner. Besides, all the restaurants are booked up. We can always just get stuff from you to go and eat it later. And," she adds, in the interest of full disclosure, "she's curious about you."

He frowns. "Why?"

"Madi told her about the cookies, she thinks we're friends."

"Are we not?" he asks, mild.

"BFFs," she says, deadpan, but when she smiles, he does too. "I didn't mean we weren't friends, just--it's kind of weird for that to be what my mom knows about you."

"As opposed to what?"

"I don't know. It's weird that she wants to scope you out."

"No offense, but everything about your mom seems weird. But I can lay low, if you don't want her to be weird about me."

"Definitely not. You should be hanging out as much as possible. I want to see what she thinks of you."

He raises his eyebrows. "You know you're being weird about this too, right?"

"I know. I'm nervous, I want backup. And I want my mom to--she's never been here before, and Unity Day really isn't my thing. It feels like she's not going to see what's good about the town, why I like it here."

It's true, but until he frowns, the implications are lost on her. "I'm what's good about town?"

"People like you, yeah."

"Huh. Good to know." He rubs the back of his neck, his favorite nervous gesture and hers too. "So just tell me where you want me," he says, spreading his arms out. "I'm at your disposal."

"You're going to regret that," she says, bright, and he laughs.

"Do your worst."

Unity Day, as a small business owner, is a lot, and Bellamy is a blessing to have around. Clarke has a couple high-school kids who help out after school, but they're not great with people, and Bellamy, somehow, is. For all he's the town curmudgeon, as soon as he's helping her, it's like a flip is switched. Suddenly he's warm and charming and easy, actually knows about the art, and full of praise for her and the gallery.

"How do you even know this much?" she asks, during a lull in the crowd.

"I'm really smart."

"About the gallery."

"Madi talks about it all the time. You too. And I've been visiting, remember? I was doing research."

"You really didn't have to do all this. Not that I don't appreciate it, but I know you don't even like Unity Day. I wasn't expecting--"

"I wanted to help out," he says. He takes a step closer, and Clarke's heart flips, lurches, and starts beating double time. "I--"

"Clarke!"

They both startle, moving apart automatically, and Clarke gives her mother a weak smile. She has Marcus Kane with her, of all people, and the she looks--happy, mostly.

"Hey, Mom," she says, smooth. "You found the place."

"I do have GPS," she says, dry. "The store looks wonderful. You must be very proud." Her attention shifts to Bellamy. "And you must be--"

"Helping out," he supplies, offering his hand. "Bellamy Blake."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. You're responsible for the cookies?"

"Clarke did a lot of the work," he says. "She just needed a little guidance."

"And I believe we'll be having dinner at your place?"

"Yeah. My best friend is manning the grill tonight, he'll take care of you."

"Oh, you aren't joining us?" Abby asks, surprised, and Clarke jumps on it.

"Of course he is. Right, Bellamy?"

His smile is a little crooked. "Yeah. Happy to."

Kane takes point on showing Abby around the gallery, and by the time they're gone, Clarke and Bellamy are busy again, and don't get a break until the retail hours finish and they're wrapping up.

"You really don't mind me having dinner with you guys?" he asks. "I can feed myself."

"I want you to have dinner with us," she says. "I really appreciate your help." She wets her lips. "And I want to find out what you were going to say earlier."

His mouth tugs up at the corner. "Would you believe me if I said I was going to say I wished Unity Day had mistletoe so I had an excuse to kiss you?"

"Not really, but it's not a bad line."

"Yeah, I've been working on it." He reaches over to tuck her hair out of her face. "Seriously, I've been looking for an excuse to spend more time with you for years."

"You don't need an excuse, just ask."

"Awesome. You want to go do the Unity Day walk before dinner?"

"Definitely not," she says, and tugs him down for a kiss.

She and Madi head over to the diner together the next morning.

"It's not like I'm not happy for you," she's saying. "I am. It just took so long. Like, you couldn't have just asked him on a date months ago? Like a normal person? He made you pancakes for your birthday."

"Yeah, but all he gave me was a print off about the dangers of caffeine addiction. Being an adult is hard, okay? This stuff takes time."

"It's been like ten years."

Clarke holds the door open for her. Bellamy looks up at the sound of the bells over the door, breaks out into a wide grin at the sight of them, and Clarke feels her own smile growing in response.

"Pathetic," Madi mutters.

"I know, I know," says Clarke. "Worth it."

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