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sunaswife · 3 years

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Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

note from denise: hi hii 🥺 I’m so happy and i love this chapter even though it’s all over the place so I’m sorry plz forgive me 🙇‍♀️

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter eight

You heard Hana and Jamie bickering in the living room as you took the burnt part off of the bell peppers you roasted. You were looking out the window in front of the sink every once in a while to check up on the kids. They were having fun playing with their father and uncles. You’ve never seen them smile brighter.

You were happy that they finally had their father, Tobio was a good figure but obviously not their real father. Earlier Rin gave his first scolding to your son for shoving Akira and he also told Akira that calling people idiot wasn’t nice. You couldn’t help but snicker behind your cardigan since he was obviously nervous and a bit awkward but it all worked out in the end. The twins and your best friends were peering through the door at the scene and they were in awe.

It just looked so natural. You, Rin and the kids. All that’s missing is a pet dog or cat. Jamie thought if you and Rin really try then you both could fall in love again and be a nice family all together. She grew up with divorced parents so she knew how tough it could be. She doesn’t want to hear you and Rin fighting in the future about upcoming holidays. Or maybe eventually having to separate the twins.

“Hana do you think you could ask the guys if they want to stay for dinner?” You said from the kitchen. “Oka-“ “No y/n, I think you should do it.” Jamie popped in. “Huh? I’m literally cooking.” You said as you reached into the bag of roasted peppers. Your fingers were stuck onto the black crisps. “You’re trying to avoid them.” She squinted and you rolled your eyes. “No I’m not.” You defended yourself. “Yes you are.” She deadpanned. “You never say no to setting for your kids. Even if you’re busy you tell them to give you five or ten minutes but when Rini asked you straight up said no since you needed to cook. I think that stung him a bit. He probably wanted to show off his skills to his dad.” She said and you frowned slightly. “I mean it’s fine, she’s probably uncomfortable which makes sense. The worst people in the world are just chilling in her house. It makes sense that she’s on edge.” The familiar voice said and you turned to see Atsumu leaning against the breakfast bar between your kitchen and living room. You didn’t want to say he’s right..but I mean..he’s right.

“...would you like to stay for dinner?” You asked awkwardly as Jaime sighed and walked away. “Mmm depends, what are you making?” He teased to try to help you ease up. “Food, either take it or leave it.” You said plainly as you flipped the pepper on the stove. “I miss your cooking so I think I’ll stay. Let me call Osamu so he can help.” He said and you immediately protested. “No it’s fine, you guys are the guests. I’ll feel bad.” You said and he chuckled. “Y/N-Chan..” he started, “Osamu owns his own restaurant, all he does is eat, cook, and work out. He would want nothing more than to help you cook. It’s in his DNA.” He said and you rolled your eyes. “Fine ask Rin if he wants to stay too.” You said. “Oh he’ll want to stay, plus we all carpooled together.” He said and you nodded and he left.

“Yo, we gotta go.” Jamie said from the doorway. “Did you say bye to the kids?” You asked and she nodded. “Sorry Y/N, we have a doctors appointment.” Jamie frowned slightly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you later.” You smiled and she nodded sadly. After a quick goodbye hug they were out the door and Osamu was waiting in the kitchen to help you cook.

“Alright boss, let’s get started.” He said as he washed his hands and you chuckled.

Dinner went good, the kids mainly talked and were the stars of the show. After dinner they wanted to show their uncles and dad their Minecraft worlds on their tablets, courtesy of Tobio.

Suna offered to help clean up but you insisted it was fine and to spend as much time with the kids and he reluctantly agreed and you were left alone.

Your phone buzz after you sat on the breakfast bar to enjoy yet another cup of tea and you almost spilled it when you saw who was calling. “Holy shit, holy shit.” You muttered and the guys immediately turned to you from their spots on the couch. “I’m going to take this phone call I’ll be right back.” You said leaving Rin in charge and you answered while you made your way down the hall.

“Hello?” “Hi is this Y/N? This is Natsuo, the songwriter and director for the soundtrack for Kimetsu No Yaiba. From my understanding you are voicing Nezuko and Shinobu, correct?” “That is correct, sir.” You replied, “Well I stumbled across your portfolio and resume and I phone called your old vocal coach and he said some things about you.” He said. “Well I hope they’re all good.” You chuckled nervously.

“Yes they’re more than good actually and I wanted to offer you the opportunity of singing the opening for the anime, if not then maybe the outro. Would you be interested? Of course you’d have to come to the studio and sing for us and we’ll decide but I wanted to ask first since I know you also work as a volleyball commentator as well.” He said and you gasped.

“Yes sir of course, I would be honored...” you said happily. “Great! I see that you come in the studio on Monday for the read through of the script. Can you come earlier to audition?” He asked and you agreed and set up a time.

Normally any other person would want to audition after but if it’s singing, you can’t eat or drink sweet stuff before because it messes up your throat and you can accidentally burp and embarrass yourself. So you’d rather do the singing audition before and eat whatever is at the snack bar during the read through.

When you hung up the phone you squealed and did a little happy dance. You quickly took a deep breath and you made your way out of your office back to the living room. “Um...where are the twins? The Miya’s I mean.” You asked when you saw that only Suna was chilling with a kid on each side of him. “Osamu needed to check up on his shop and Atsumu had to go to the gym. I decided to stay behind because I didn’t know how long you would take.” He replied.

“But didn’t you all carpool?” You asked and he nodded. “I can Uber. Don’t worry.” He said and you nodded and sat next to Rini. “Kids guess what.” You said happily and they both looked up from their tablets. “I go to the studio on monday—“ “THE STUDIO CAN WE GO?!” They immediately asked with bright eyes. “Uh—I don’t know guys, I’m working and Jamie has work too i don’t know if someone can watch you guys at the studio.” You said. “What time and I’ll go. I can keep them entertained.” Suna spoke up.

“I’m gonna be there for a few hours..I’ll have a read through of the script and a song audition before that..” you told him. “Wait what do you do anyways?” He asked curiously and the kids gasped. “You don’t know what mommy does for a living?! She’s the coolest mom in the world.” Rini exclaimed with extended arms to emphasize the world. “Listen to the voice of the narrator.“ Akira said and shoved the tablet in his hands. It was Peppa pig. Honestly they couldn’t find a cooler role you played in? Even the side characters were fine, but Akira had to choose peppa pig.

Rin listened to peppa as she scolded her little brother Georgie. And finally he heard your voice narrate what happened and his eyes widened. “No way, you’re a voice actor?” He asked and you nodded. “Wow imagine that. You were always so shy and now your voice is heard by millions across the world.” He teased and your face tinted.

“Well when you put it like that it freaks me out!” You snatched the tablet from his hands and the kids looked at each other with raised brows. “I’m only kidding. But it’s pretty amazing that you do that. Any big roles you’re playing soon?” He asked. “I may or may not be acting in Kimetsu No Yaiba.” You said which was a manga series you both were obsessed with when you were together. “Say sike right now.” He gasped and you gave him that I’m serious face.

“Congrats Y/N. That’s freaking amazing. May i ask who you’re voicing?” He asked and you shook your head. “That’s a secret.” You said and he sighed. “Man got my hopes up for nothing.” He muttered causing your kids to giggle.

“Momma we invited dad to the field trip tomorrow he said yes.” Akira spoke up and your eyes widened. “Wait what—“ “I didn’t necessarily say yes. I wanted to make sure it was cool with you, first. They told me that they were homeschooled and you take them to different places for field trips all the time.” He tried to correct Akira and you nodded.

“Well...I mean..if you want to go then it’s fine. We’re going to an aquarium.” You said and the kids gave him puppy dog eyes. “Alright I’ll go then. It’ll be fun and you guys can show me what you’ve learned.” He smiled softly and the kids cheered. Is this really a good idea? You don’t know. But if your kids are happy, then you’re happy.

“Rin It’s getting late they have bath time and then they need to sleep.” You told him as the kids ran up and down the hall racing with Rini’s toy cars. “Alright then I’ll leave.” “I’m not kicking you out of anything-“ “No it’s fine I get it. I’ve intruded in your territory long enough.” He chuckled and you nodded. “Children of the corn! I’m leaving.” He called and immediately the kids emerged from the hallway and began whining and protesting. “You need to take a bath then go to bed. It’s late. I’m seeing you tomorrow anyways.” He knelt down on his knee to be of eye level with the kids.

“But we don’t want you to leave. I won’t sleep if you don’t read me a story.” Rini pouted and Akira nodded and you both sighed. “Fine, I’ll read you a bed time story and you will go sleep.” He told them and they nodded.

You rounded up the kids for a bubble bath and Rin was sitting on the counter as you explained what kind of kids soap you use and such. But he was mostly watching the kids play with the bubbles. “Hey Akira do you think I’ll look cool with my hair like this?” Rini asked with his messy wannable mohawk, he looked more like the grinch. Akira looked at her brother and snorted. “You look like a troll.” She muttered causing Rini to pout. “You’re so mean.” He mumbled. You got the shower head and told Akira to close her eyes as you finished washing her hair and body and she was finished. “Do you wanna try to finish Rini while I change Akira?” You asked Suna and his eyes widened. “I only know how to bathe my dog, I don’t know how to bathe a kid.” He protested. “Weren’t you watching me?” You asked. “I was distracted with the bubbles, okay.” He deadpanned and you sighed. “Rini help your dad.” You said plainly and left despite Suna’s protests.

“Alright princess, let’s get you dried up and ready for bed, yeah?” You asked the shivering girl in your arms and she nodded. You placed her on the bed and dried her hair a bit and you began to put on her lotion. You helped her into her underwear and she wanted to wear her fox onzie so you began helping her feet in when Rini stumbled in naked with Rin chasing after him with a towel. They were both soaking wet.

“Oh my god.” You sighed. “Boys.” Akira mumbled and you nodded. “You’re worse than washing a dog.” He said as he held him and dried his hair. “Woof.” Rini snickered and Suna flicked his forehead. “I’m soaking wet now.” He deadpanned to his son. You zipped up Akira after successfully placing her in her onzie and you moved on to your son. “Stop giving your dad such a hard time, he’s new to this whole parenting thing ya know?” You told him as you began to rub his face with lotion. “Akira go brush your teeth.” You told her and she pulled her dad along with her. “What do you want to wear to sleep?” You asked. “Can I wear my Fox onzie too?” He asked and you nodded. “Of course.” You replied and helped him into it too.

Rini went on his way to brush his teeth and you were met with the view of Rin helping his daughter floss and you just wanted to melt. This was so freaking cute. You don’t know if your heart could handle the cuteness. “Alrighty next victim!” Rin said and picked up Rini. He began to help him brush his teeth. You helped Akira down from the counter and she went off to look for a good book. You decided it was best to get one of Tobio’s shirts and shorts he had lying around for Rin so he wouldn’t get sick.

When Rini finished brushing his teeth, he went out to help Akira search for a book. “Are you still soaked?” You asked and Suna nodded. “Here wear this so you won’t get sick.” You tossed him some gym shorts and a random T-shirt. He gave a small thanks and you closed the bathroom door to leave him to change. “Alright where are my little foxes?” You hummed and you found your little demons kids jumping on your bed and patiently waiting to read. “Why aren’t you both in bed?” You asked and they stopped jumping and turned to you. “We wanna sleep here with you and daddy!” Rini said and you almost choked on air.

WITH RIN?! ARE THEY CRAZY OR CRAZY?

“Baby he’s not spending the night. He’s only going to read you a bedtime story then leave. You’ll see him tomorrow when you wake up.” You told them and they both had the saddest look on their faces. “But we wanna sleep with you and daddy. Please can he spend the night. Please please please!” Akira begged.

“I don’t mind if you don’t. It’s only for the night.” Rin almost whispered in your ear and you turned your head to him. “Are you sure? What about tomorrow? What are you going to wear?” You asked, “We can stop by my apartment in the morning before we head out.” He said and you raised a brow and turned back to your kids they were already comfy on the middle of your bed and you released your nth sigh of the day. “Fine, one night.” You answered and grabbed your pajamas and left to the bathroom to change.

When you returned Rin was on the left side of the bed with Rini right next to him. Akira patted your spot on the right side and you sat against the headboard of the bed. The twins had two books they wanted you both to read but they all fell asleep while you read the second one. You looked to see Rin, Rini and Akira sleeping and you can never get over how similar they looked like Rin. You quietly hopped out of bed and put the books away and turned off the lights.

You woke up to the sun shining on your face and arms around your waist. You felt a weight on your chest and you sighed and opened your eyes. You blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t seeing things but sure enough, Rin was sleeping on your chest. Just like old times and you tried to control your breathing. You don’t want to be the type of ex who yells and they fall off the bed. You realized the kids were not on the bed too and if Rin was cuddling you, then they must have been gone for a while.

“Rintarou—the kids—WAKE UP!” You quickly shook him and he opened his eyes and quickly moved away. He felt around him and he noticed the kids weren’t there. You both paused in silence to see if you can hear them but when you didn’t you quickly yeeted yourself off the bed with Rin following right at your tail. You opened the door to the twins room and you saw them in their own bed hugging their plushies. You held a hand over your chest and you leaned against the doorframe. “My heart literally dropped.” You turned to Rin.

“Mine did too. Do they usually do that?” He asked. “No, never.” You sighed and closed the door.

The twins opened their eyes and they looked at eachother from across the room. “I told you mom would get a heart attack. We’re lucky she didn’t cry.” Akira whispered. “Whatever at least they cuddled together like a nice married couple.” Rini whispered back and Akira nodded. “I hope mommy and daddy get back together.” Akira said. “They will, our plan is perfect.” Rini whispered mischievously and Akira smiled.

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime69 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

#haikyuu suna #miya atsumu #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarō #suna x reader #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader

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tosikoarts · 3 years

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SFW Alphabet | Kadokura Toshiyuki

There he is, the tanuki man! Ask box is now OPEN. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Thanks to the omnipresent influence of bad luck, Kadokura has little experience when it comes to love life (yes, we don’t count a marriage which was a complete failure, okay, his wife and daughter ran off), courtship, and romance in general. Those relationships he was involved in never grew in anything serious, and he was often left with nothing but a broken heart so, obviously, when Kadokura starts to notice a flaring interest in anyone, he is confused.

First, what? Second, why? Could it happen in a more convenient time, not when he is hunted by a rabid Superior Private and, potentially, by a dozen more dangerous personalities in Hokkaido? Despite being a complete wreck, Kadokura tries to play it cool. He acts just as unperturbed as always, does not go out of his way to impress his untimely crush because what if they don’t like him at all? Worse! What if they are disgusted with him or something?

Thus the only affection they can expect are endless entertaining conversations, - Kadokura knows a ton of fables and his heart skips a bit when they laugh at yet another story, - and help whenever they may need it. In fact, he is just scared to death that his “luck” will affect them too. Moreover, if it happens, he won’t be able to protect them or play a knight in shining armor since he isn’t that personable, formidable, strong…

Kadokura is a king of pinning and self-doubt so, you know, the only way this relationship can progress anywhere is if his crush takes the initiative. Takes him by the hand, makes some compliments, shows that they care and are interested. The best option would be to just tell him directly what a dumb dummy he is that he can’t notice their green lights.

After that everything becomes much easier: Kadokura slowly steps up his dating game! Sure, it’s a long time from “Wow, your eyelashes are so long. Like cow’s eyelashes” to “Moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” (Note: check out Natsume Soseki to understand the context!) and from chilling by the fire to sitting on the porch of own house but trust the process.

Mostly relies on the way his partner shows their affection and adjusts to them. If they are more about verbal affection, he will put all his efforts into becoming smooth talker, if they are a more physical person, Kadokura will hold them by the hand and hug the shit out of them. Simple as that.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The start of this friendship is unpredictable. They had to meet either before Kadokura started to work as a jailor (or they had to be imprisoned in Abashiri lol) or after he joined Hijikata Toshizou. Both options come down to Kadokura getting into some kind of trouble like make another lunatic mad at him and his future best friend, or simply bumping into them on the street, scattering all of the goods they just bought on the road. Kadokura gets under the horse's hooves in an attempt to collect them. Now he needs medical help. Please, help this poor man.

Never initiates anything but if you offer to hang out Kadokura will be down. Again, hanging out with him is a double-edged sword: you may end up in the maelstrom of events that will leave you with a shit ton of crazy stories for grandkids or you may fall onto the ground and lie like a stone telling each other the dumbest puns. Both are good, in my opinion, just be aware of the possibilities.

There are moments when he can't stop complaining about life. Usually, it happens over a shot of sake when Kadokura’s cheeks crimson, long sighs substitute commas in between of lamentations, and the atmosphere becomes more intimate. The prisoners are, of course, very attentive listeners, but you will not get any emotional feedback from them. With freshly made best friend, Kadokura tends to overshare and then profusely apologize for that.

Just like with Hijikata Toshizou, he will stick his neck out for them but won’t expect the same in return. To the point where if he was forced to choose between saving either Hijikata or his best friend, Kadokura will have to commit die instead.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Enjoys being cuddled more than he originally thought. For the first time in a while, his palms are sweating, butterflies are swarming in the stomach, so gentle touch feels almost dazing: Kadokura may even flinch in surprise when they start nuzzling on his shoulder like a cat. Later he finally convinces himself to ease off enough to pull them into an unescapable hug, fall together on the ground and fool around or pull them on his lap and plant few kisses on their cute nose. Doesn’t like spooning because every time he is big spoon three is no way he can keep hands to himself. The temptation is too great, and Kadokura doesn’t even try to resist it.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Why this question?. Who even dreams of a nasty cozy home? Of the disgusting overwhelming feeling of safety with the love of one’s life? Waking up and falling asleep together, sharing all good and bad from day to day? HORRIBLETERRIBLEAWFUL sign Kadokura up. Of course, he wants to settle down. The desire to have a family nest has been growing in his heart for years but until now there was no person to share this dream with. He brings up the idea of living together as soon as it seems more or less appropriate and flies over the moon (at the speed of light) when his partner supports it. Good at cooking but sucks at cleaning.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Classical breakup with “It’s not you, it’s me” line in it. Kadokura will not break up with his partner until all possible methods of saving relationships have been tried out: this is one of the most difficult decisions in his life ever and fucking up something that can be saved would be idiotic. He has doubts until the last second of course. Scratching the back of his head awkwardly and dejectedly avoiding their gaze, Kadokura tries to get to the point but his speech is interrupted by endless ummms and ughs. In the end, he feels as awful as they do, guilty and somewhat ashamed, so after making sure they are not going to do anything stupid, Kadokura flees.

There is not a lot to say besides that Kadokura clearly understands how hard it is to be left (and usually that’s how breakup feels like you were left on the side of the road) so he tries to be delicate. Checks up on them from time to time by sending long letters with detailed descriptions of his misadventures.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He is no longer at an age when postponing a wedding is almost a matter of course but, at the same time, Kadokura is held back by the fear that this marriage will end like a previous one. Is he legally divorced at all?... Anyway, Kadokura is torn between proposing on the first anniversary and waiting an unknown amount of time until they bring up this question. Dreams of a small wedding with one or two guests from both sides so they are not obligated to be too serious and constrained with traditions. Kirawus has to be one of the guests, he cries at the sight of happy butthole peeker Kadokura.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Ayyy, he is the type of man who lets his hand go numb but won’t move it to not disturb his loved one’s sleep. Kadokura is way more gentle than any of the ex-soldiers, both physically and emotionally but his attempts to show it often come off as kind of awkward and malapropos. Do not let it upset you: Kadokura is a master in turning everything into a good joke and laughing at small inconveniences. He is the one to apologize first after the big argument, the one to offer a big hug after a bad day, the one to sit beside and listen to the emotional rent without giving even one unnecessary comment.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Whenever his loved one wants, Kadokura will be there with arms outstretched to the sides, ready to give them the tightest hugs. He likes to gently rub their back at the same time or nuzzle against their neck but is hesitant if there are any onlookers.

In family life, he has no problem with randomly running up to his loved one for a hug. Really, Kadokura is a sucker for unexpected back hugs where he can put hands on the partner’s waist and press them into his body, deliberately distracting them from housework.

You can easily tell Kadokura is having a rough day when he slips from usually coveted embraces: it is an unconscious trick to fish out a double portion of physical affection from his loved one.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Pretty fast compared to others. Half of the year, maybe? It has to be obvious you love a person by that time or so Kadokura thinks. He is not afraid to be misunderstood since by the time confession is ready to slip from his tongue, Kadokura already has planned a whole paragraph ahead of all questions: if they are not ready to say it back that’s fine, if they don’t feel the same right now or in general that’s fine if they need space to think about that’s fine. Everything is fine with Kadokura, he just wants to convey the idea that they are irreplaceable and make him feel like no one did before.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

A definition of confusion in all scenarios since he can’t clearly understand his own emotions. Is it a disappointment? If it is anger, it’s greatly diminished by a feeling of worthlessness. If they are being hit on, Kadokura sees himself as a rather weak opponent but picks himself up and stands next to a partner, gently taking them by the hand, and asks them if everything is alright. If the rival is excessively pushy, Kadokura will let out a heavy sigh before getting into a fight because no way he will let any bastard hurt his loved one. Needs to be patched up after the fight. Can’t stop smiling like a fool when they wipe the blood abundantly oozing from a broken nose. It’s good for his ego.

If they decided to flirt with anyone, Kadokura chokes on his own saliva. Like. What. This is so humiliating. He wants the ground open to swallow him up, along with all his stupid feelings for them, which, apparently, mean nothing. Needs a lot of space to cool down and has a hard time confronting them about the situation. Kadokura is more comfortable with repressing this unpleasant memory than sorting things out.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

With Kadokura every kiss is just like the first one in the best sense of the word: his kisses are gentle, warm, not too sloppy, not too dry, not priestly prude, and not teenagerly aggressive. Although he has a funny (or annoying, it is not for everyone) habit: sometimes he decides to smooch them in the middle of talking just because. If they scold him for that he just laughs it off and plants a hundred more kisses on their poppy-red face.

Loves to kiss his partner on temples and lips but, honestly, as long as it’s them Kadokura will kiss them whenever, from the top of the head to the tip of their pinky toes, literally. Prefers to be kissed on the lips too but also on the neck, chest, and belly.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

First of all, Kadokura loves children with his whole heart. Second of all, kids love Kadokura like no other babysitter. Put them together in one room and watch them vibe. Honestly, he is naturally good around little ones, it looks like he was born with a talent to keep up with those fidgets. If his child is struggling with any school subject, Kadokura will spend the evening with them, helping them to understand a difficult concept. Even if he doesn’t understand it himself, nothing can stop Kadokura from dive into books, teach himself, and then explain learned stuff to kids. Absolutely amusing when he babytalks. Wants three or four children but still has a fear of being a bad father (unreasonably!).

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Lazy as mornings can be. No one hurries to jump out of the bed to get down to business, and the house stays silent until late noon. After waking up, Kadokura languidly sits up in the sheets, yawns, and curls up back to his partner, spending another few hours snoozing in their warmth.

Eh, it feels like Kadokura is the type of person that is awfully quiet in the morning. It is easier for him to convey his thought with gestures than to start moving his tongue. Well, except when it comes to kisses. He doesn't mind spending some energy on that.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are calm and cozy. They are pretty much normal, usually spent at home since it is nearly impossible to drag Kadokura anywhere after 6 p.m. On especially good days, he can surprise his partner with simple but delicious food: unusual gourmet dishes of the Michelin 3-star restaurant level aren’t his forte but miso soup made with unconditional love is definitely his signature dish.

Fond of playing games with his loved one despite losing 9 times out of 10. They have lost more than five dices already but Kadokura keeps buying new sets, of higher quality and higher price. After the game is finished, Kadokura or his partner thinks up a challenge for the loser like cook for a week or call the winner one specific word for a day so they can have more fun.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

They have to become his friend before Kadokura starts to reveal more info than the one that is known to everyone in the area. By the way, a good indicator of closeness is the ability to laugh together: look at his relationship with Kirawus, that is just the right level to open up. Takes things slowly, expects another person to share as much as he does. Kadokura is very particular when it comes to the innermost and knows how to keep secrets, so he makes it clear from the very beginning it’s okay to speak their mind, ask for advice, etc. As stated before, tends to overshare after having too much sake.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The patient isn’t the right word, resigned is. There is nothing in this world that can surprise him: Kadokura had to deal with the most terrible scumbags imaginable, serve as bait for a killer (and face another person who wanted his death even more than the aforementioned killer!), freeze his ass off while standing on the thin ice with a knife between his rimed buttocks. Like, the peak of life’s evil tomfoolery is reached. Kadokura is prepared to face anything and everything and is relieved every time it’s not a near-death experience or bloodthirsty wild animal.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

It depends on how stars align on each separate day. Today he remembers 99,9% of what his loved one said and the next day not a single word reaches his brain cells. Kadokura is way more focused on feelings and emotions he experiences together with his partner so it is not uncommon for him to remember they were uncontrollably laughing but were cold than that they fell in the river because he was rocking the boat. It works the same with negative emotions: Kadokura somehow feels he should lock the dog even though he has no clear memory that his loved one is afraid of them. Why did I do it? I don’t know, gut’s feeling.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

A first kiss for sure! After a long lull in personal life, the first kiss with a new person awakens a whole storm of emotions in him. Kadokura feels like he is eighteen again, he just crossed the doorstep of adulthood and discovered the delight of the first relationship. This joy is enough to take away his speech for a minute: months later this moment makes him wince in disbelief of how silly he must have looked with eyes wide-opened and jaw hanging low. After that, he still had the courage to ask “oh so does it mean we are the thing now? Like the real thing?”. No, Kadokura spent the next week wondering if this was a feverish dream despite given a positive answer.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Do you want to live? Run then! Use the Joseph Joestar’s famous plan and strategically retreat because his brain needs some time to come up with a plan. Kadokura obviously wants to keep his loved one safe and sound, who doesn’t, but it is not that easy. He gives them a gun or knife to protect themself in the moment of danger since, chances are, Kadokura himself will be in even deeper troubles, millimeters away from swiftly bayonet sending him straight to heaven.

Relies mostly on keeping them as far from the battle scene as possible. Even if they handle a gun better than he does, Kadokura actively protests in every possible way and convinces them to stay somewhere safe: he knows for sure if they get injured, he will be the one to blame, and if something irreversible happens, he won’t be live on without a heavy burden of guilt.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Despite the lack of ample opportunities to show his love inexpensive or exquisite ways, Kadokura tries his best to impress his loved one. He is ready to change himself and change his life as well to be worthy of their company. A little more effort to get out of bed and shave this mess off the neck, even more effort to buy a new suit for their dinner date out, every drop of effort to accept his awkwardness and let things go with the flow. Anniversaries are treated the same way: if possible, in summer Kadokura will plan a trip to the South coast where they can enjoy loneliness together to the sound of waves breaking on the rocky shore. In winter, he will certainly try to create an extra festive and cozy atmosphere at home, cooking their favorite food, and making an excessive amount of tea. We are talking about the level at which the kettle is never empty. Relatively diligent in the everyday task but no powers in the world will force him to clean up like a normal man.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

“A wilted, uninspired middle-aged dude” he is, and it affects how Kadokura perceives himself more than you think. In turn, this perception seeps into his life as self-doubt, self-deprecating jokes, and hesitation in making important decisions. At the same time, if you point out this flaw to him, Kadokura will sulk. You would think he has to know better but no.

Unmotivated and has a hard time opening up to new experiences like learning new skills or finding new hobbies. Not as much as Kikuta, but Kadokura also has a habit of doing as he did twenty years ago even if the consequences did not live up to expectations. He sees a rake that WILL hit him on the forehead and JUMPS on it anyway.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Earlier in the days when grass was greener and the sky was bluer, Kadokura put more thought into his appearance but over time it changed. With the current state of the world, he doesn’t bother to waste his time fixing his hair every hour and blow the dust off his shoes. His uniform is in a relatively ok condition, with few patches here and there, three-day stubble often overgrows in one-week stubble, and bags under the eyes give him a shabby look but there is a charm in it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Some people try too hard to hide the fact they are hurt while going through a bad breakup and he is one of them. Days seem endlessly long and gloomy, Kadokura performs given tasks only because it is expected from him, he stops playing cards with Kirawus and doesn’t bat an eyelid when ainu bugs him. Absent-mindedness leads Kadokura straight into new problems but none of them is enough to shake him up. He is… sad. Simply as that. Not heartbroken, not sorrowful. It is an empty sadness that leaves you painfully numb without a stingy tear to shed. To make it even worse, after the breakup Kadokura persistently seeks their company again and again for reasons he can’t explain. Maybe, it is desensitization: the more he sees them as an outsider, the easier he takes it. Shortly after, he will try to find the trace of his ex-wife and daughter, reunite with them if… they want to, you know. They might start a new life while he was nodding off in the workplace.

If they have been killed, Kadokura will live on, faithfully serving Hijikata. He refuses to talk about them at all, brushing off offered emotional support. Still, he was born under an unlucky star and nothing can be done about it: it is something he has to come to terms with.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Let's forget the canon for a second and pretend that Kadokura has a sister or a brother who, in turn, has a child. So my headcanon is that he is a cool uncle. The one who gives kids life advice in the form of a funny parable, pretends he doesn’t hear them sneaking out in the night, puts more money in an envelope so they can save some up for cool stuff. His lifehacks are actually useful even though sometimes questionable… The one who doesn’t have to try to fit in with the new-gen because he got it already.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

There is only one specific thing that comes to mind since Kadokura is too chill and it seems he can deal with almost everything.

People with excessive energy. We are not talking about the literal ray of sunshine type of person that beams with energy but rather about people who are active and need other people to match them. They need strong feedback from another person to feel validated and not to fall into the depression abyss and Kadokura is not a person to match this description. He is not about running around 24/7 enthusiastically grimacing at every little thing. It's exhausting. It is annoying. Kadokura’s social battery runs out on their second sentence so he prefers to avoid such Duracell bunnies at all costs.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Just like Kikuta has a specific ritual before going to bed. Jailer's work taught Kadokura to pay more attention to the security of the house so he can’t fall asleep without checking all the doors. This habit has nothing to do with obsessive-compulsive disorder, it is what it is. Besides it, Kadokura gives his partner a goodnight kiss on the temple because what if he wakes up and they are not here or what if he won’t have any other chance to do it. This one doesn’t change even if Kadokura is stressed the f out: he may be red from the anger but he will lean down and smooch them to remind how much they mean to him.

#golden kamuy #kadokura #kadokura toshiyuki #golden kamuy headcanon #golden kamuy imagine #tosikowrites

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joonsdiary · 4 years

Text

the engagement

↳ part four of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing: seokjin x reader (female) genre: arranged marriage au // fluff, angst, humour word count: 6,5k

chapter summary: every fleeting glance, every soft touch—each gesture piles onto an insurmountable mountain of feelings you’d rather not have for seokjin.

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Big day tomorrow,” you looked up to see your mother approaching. She slid into the booth where you’ve been sitting comfortably for the last half-hour, trying to get your work done. It was rare to see Hwang Youngmi gallivanting in your hotel, much less the Grigio; to say you were surprised seemed like an understatement. You greeted her with a patient smile and attempted to get back to work. You had homework to catch up to, after all.

“I saw what the tabloids said about your date with Seokjin last night.” Youngmi paused, calling out for a waiter. You rolled your eyes when she ordered a cosmopolitan. It was ten in the morning, for crying out loud. But you knew better than to question the woman.

“Oh yeah? Good things, I hope.”

You meant that. You (and possibly Seokjin, you were unsure) had been working double overtime to make the romance sell. Every gesture, every hand holding, every smile; you convinced yourself it had all been for the sake of your precious hotel.

Granted, you’ve only gone on one other date since you visited the Kim Hotel. Despite coordinating schedules with Seokjin, you had to take a rain check on two other dates you were supposed to have. You had no qualms about the matter, and instead poured several dates worth of PDA on one night it would make Taehyung gag with approval.

“Yes! They’ve even dubbed you as the Tamer. I don’t know how you did it either, dear.”

You rolled your eyes at the name, biting back a smile. Kim Seokjin was far from being tamed, but you entertained the possibility if it had been real. Would you be able to hold down Seokjin for yourself and make him commit? You may never know.

“But, as I said, big day tomorrow,” she sighed wistfully, taking a sip of her freshly delivered cosmo. “I know it’s just an engagement reveal but letting the public know just makes it feel more real.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied without much thought. Your mother grew quiet for a while, and you can feel her stare on you. Ever since dinner on Monday night, she had been amicable, listening to your stories and actually making conversation with you. For other people, that would be a normal thing a mother does. But not Youngmi. She was used to getting her way, each word becoming the ultimatum. Therefore, the mere fact that you went into business and did not become a lawyer like she had wanted for you placed a huge strain in your relationship.

“You could have told me, you know,” she said softly. You looked up from your laptop, eyes wide in mild shock and confusion at her tone.

“About what?”

“When you began liking Seokjin and taking this arrangement seriously,” her eyes moist and you fidgeted, unsure of what to say.

“Oh, that.” Guilt bubbled from the pit of your stomach, crawling its way up to your throat. You scratch the nape of your neck as you think about the future, months from now when you’ll be divorced from him. What would your mother say, then? “It just kind of…happened. When he came here to visit me almost a week ago I — it was an instant attraction.”

You tried to keep it as simple as possible to avoid getting tangled in a bigger mess. When it came down to it, at least you were telling one half of the truth.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” she began softly, and you closed your journal and gave her your full attention, feeling like you owed it to her. “I know you may think that your father and I drove your business under because we hated you for it, but that was far from what we intended.”

She fiddled with her manicured nails, unable to look you in the eye. Was she giving you the talk? After a huge argument you had with your parents about the hotel’s finances, you made a pact to yourself about not bringing it up with them anymore. Mostly because you always circled back to the same topic of not being able to live up to their dreams for you.

“Your father had the intention of helping you out, and we thought we could, but…” she paused, sighing morosely. “You have to believe me when I say that selling it to the Kims had been a ‘break in case of emergency’ type of decision. They agreed to the purchase but had their concerns regarding their son — hence the marriage.

“I had to agree because I know how much this place means to you; otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed. You know how much I distrust billionaires.”

You both laughed at the comment.

Before you were shipped off to college once upon a time, life with your mother and father were fairly simple. You understood their lack of presence in your large home, as they’ve drilled in your mind constantly that they were working hard to provide for the family. But there was only you, who had been left alone with several housekeepers throughout your youth and young adult life.

That was something you know you might not be able to forgive them for, and your mother knew that. Her attempt at patching up your relationship, despite her unconventional way of doing so, warmed your heart a little.

“When Seokjin’s father suggested to us the idea of having you marry their son, your father was furious — offended by the thought of giving away his only daughter. I convinced him it might be the only way to save the hotel, and perhaps you won’t hate us as much as you already do. That’s why I’d been initially reluctant of sharing the details of the marriage with you.”

Her lips quivered, tears threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes. The sincerity broke your heart.

“Mom, you should have told me sooner,” you chastised, grabbing both of her hands into yours. “We could have found another way.”

“I didn’t want to see you scrape the bottom of the barrel. Getting by without money is hard, Y/N. I know if that happens and you lose your hotel, you wouldn’t ask us for help and close off, which I know is my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you away when you didn’t want to become a lawyer.”

She gently tugged your arm and pulled you into a warm hug. Your heart wrenched painfully as she sobbed on your shoulder, unable to hold back your tears. You wiped them away quickly before she pulled back.

“Look at me, ruining a celebratory mood,” she laughed nervously, and you can tell she was gauging your reaction. “I’m sorry to be telling you all of this now. But you’re getting married so soon and I’m just…”

“It’s alright, Mom,” you offered a reassuring smile. “Better late than never, right?”

She laughed, genuine this time, as she rubbed your forearm gently.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet, though,” you pout, suddenly feeling childish again.

“I don’t expect to be,” she said candidly, taking another sip of her drink. “I’m not a day drinker but wow, now I realize why people say alcohol gives you courage.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “I was wondering why you ordered an alcoholic drink at ten in the morning.”

“I only needed a slight push to get me through the fear.” She admitted, patting your arm softly. You grin before turning your attention back to your notes.

“I’m really glad you’ve grown fond of Seokjin. It would have made me feel guilty for the rest of my life if I had let you marry off just like that,” her eyes were soft and you looked away, afraid that you might share something you shouldn’t.

“Yeah. It feels wrong marrying solely for business.”

The sentiment was said more for yourself than for your mother. No matter which angle you viewed your situation, it was all sorts of odd. But the real world is often unforgiving, and you found yourself wondering if your mother was right; what will have become of you, if not for their rash decision? But at the same time, just because the situation happened to work in your favour, doesn’t mean their unwise decision can be swept under the rug.

You arrived at a conundrum: Morals told you to turn away, but behind it was the reality of losing everything you worked for. It was as if you couldn’t have both.

Maybe the answer was to not overthink it. Ignorance is bliss, after all, so you shelve the thoughts for another day.

“I’ll leave you to it, dear.” Your mother sighs as she slid off the booth. “By the way, remember to bring up how your father had chickened out; he was supposed to accompany me today.”

You laughed at the thought — your father had always been too shy to confess how he truly felt, that much you know of. “I’ll bring it up over tomorrow’s dinner.”

She paused, her lips pursing, attempting to recall something important. “I extended the invitation to Seokjin. Surprise.”

Your eyes widened, but your mother only replied with a playful wink before she turned away.

“That sly woman,” you groaned as you pinched the bridge of your nose. You remembered that Seokjin gave you his number the night prior — you joked that he was playing hard to get by not giving it sooner — and you pulled out your phone.

𝘔𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸.

There’s no instant reply, and it doesn’t come as a shock to you if he was busy in a meeting. So, you shot another text.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦?

And another.

𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘴.

You set the device face down and decided that waiting for a text back was futile. Your phone vibrated two minutes later, proving you wrong.

𝖠𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝗈, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. There was a text that followed.

𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋-𝗂𝗇-𝗅𝖺𝗐.

𝘚𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺

𝖨 𝖺𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌.

𝘍𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺

𝖨𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖨’𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾.

𝘏𝘢-𝘩𝘢. 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺.

;)

“Ha! An emoji. He has a personality, ladies and gentlemen,” you exclaimed a little too loud bemusedly. This earned you a couple of looks from patrons trying to eat brunch, but you were too preoccupied with your own amusement to care.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰

You were about to set your phone down once more when another notification came through. One glance at the screen caused you to freeze.

“Can’t wait to see you?”

Your stomach performed backflips.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

With your heart drumming wildly against your ear, you opened the message.

𝖢𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍. 𝖲𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

You inhaled slowly through your nose and exhaled quickly through your mouth, feeling lightheaded. You misread it; let heaven rejoice! The period in between the two words and the absence of the word “to” made all the difference in the world. Who knew?

You gathered your wits long enough to give a nondescript reply.

𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦.

You instinctively reach for your cup of coffee, only to find it empty. A thought occurred in your caffeinated brain. “Must be the sugar, and the caffeine, of course. I’m always jittery when I drink coffee. Yup. Good ol’ caffeine.”

You struggled to study for the next hour.

* * *

“Congratulations on the engagement, Seokjin,” one of the board members clapped his back a little too friendly as they walked out of the conference room. He gave a polite smile. “I’m surprised to see you settling down so quickly.”

The added comment made Seokjin’s eye twitch in annoyance. The hell do you care about my personal life?

“Ready to join the married life like the rest of you, old heads,” he attempted a small banter, which brought the man laughing a little too forcefully. Throughout his tenure as COO, he’s learned a thing or two about how to navigate his way around men and women like this one, who was trying to make empty small talk. He knew well enough the intentions behind the action.

“Well, get ready to miss the bachelor life. It’s only good for a couple of months. Then the real struggle begins,” the man laughed, but Seokjin found no humour in his statement. For someone so adamant about pointing out he should settle down before they make him CEO, the man was doing a pretty bad job at convincing him to stay married.

But he knew better.

He grew up in a household where there was no shortage of love, and they came in the form of Mr. and Mrs. Kim. Throughout much of his childhood and young adult life, he witnessed how the infatuation between his parents never wavered. ‘Til death do us part, indeed.

“I’m sure Seokjin here had his fill of the bachelor life.” His father swooped in and rescued him from the clawed board member. “Isn’t that right, son?”

“As I said, I’m ready to join the married life like you, old heads.” For a few months, at least.

The corners of his father’s eyes wrinkled as he smiled genuinely, eyes misting but not for a second longer. When his father is at work, he never showed anything that would make him seem weak. Not because he questioned his masculinity, but he knew that predators lurked around to sink their teeth into any raw emotion that’s shown, before tearing their prey apart. His father had learned that the hard way, too.

The rest of them also gave curt congratulations, and Seokjin narrowly escaped the rest of the staff’s onslaught. Mina gave him a small smile, followed by the same four words as he passed by her desk on his way to the office. Seokjin laughed and shook his head, thanking her, nonetheless.

He walked back to her desk a few seconds later with a burning question.

“Is there a message from her?” he said without further elaboration, knowing that Mina would know who he’s speaking about.

He checked his phone earlier, but there was nothing. He asked Mina if there was an e-mail or a phone call just to be thorough, is all. She shook her head and began typing on her computer.

“Did you want me to make a call? Or would you rather send an e-mail?”

Seokjin winced. When Mina said it like that, it sounded wrong on all accounts. Who the hell e-mails their fiancée a “congratulations to us both” after announcing their engagement? The level of cringe was through the roof on that one.

“Can you order a bouquet, instead? The usual?”

Mina nodded, having been well-versed at the art of calling flower shops to send to his dates every time they attempted to ask for another dinner. There was always a card accompanying that read, “I apologize we couldn’t make it work.” It was simple, easy. No loose ends left untrimmed; just like how he preferred things to be.

The realization didn’t sink in until he settled into the chair behind his desk. If Mina instructed ‘the usual’ from ‘Mr. Kim’s office’, the same flowers would be sent. With the same note.

He bolted up from his seat and almost ran out the door of his office. Mina looked at him with a perplexed expression, when he got to her desk.

“Wait! No, don’t send that. Cancel it. Immediately.”

His secretary blinked up at him with an impassive gaze.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Kim, I haven’t made the order yet.”

He sighed, straightening up and pretending to flick imaginary lint off his expensive suit. “Good.”

“But you could’ve called from your office.” Mina raised the handle of the phone to make her point.

Right. Phones.

“I wanted to make my point more concise. In person,” Seokjin cleared his throat. “Sorry for the confusion.”

He began his trek back to his office after receiving an awkward smile from Mina. But then he turned back once more.

“I don’t suppose you know which boutique sells the best tasting chocolate?” He asked her with an apologetic grin.

“Who’s getting chocolates? It better be me, and not your fiancée. She deserves better.” Taehyung waltzed in from the elevator doors and leaned over at the desk before greeting Mina with his usual flirty smile.

“Do you have a better idea?” Seokjin deadpanned, not up to dealing with Taehyung’s banter. He’d had enough from the board members.

“How about giving her something she’ll actually like? What if she’s allergic to chocolates?”

Taehyung was right – but of course, he wouldn’t feed his brother’s ego and say it out loud. It bothered him more than he’d like to admit at the fact that he doesn’t know your preferences. He felt like it was the least he could do; you’re willing to go along with his berserk idea, after all.

“The look on your face reveals it all, dear brother,” Taehyung clicked his tongue, shaking his head with disappointment.

“To be fair, we’ve only gone on two dates.”

“Would you like for me to clap for your amazing accomplishment since you often don’t last more than one?”

Seokjin scowled, hating how Taehyung knew him well enough to push the right buttons. He didn’t need to be reminded of his choice to not commit every single time they talked.

“We’re going to dinner with her parents tonight. Her mom invited me,” he said stoically.

“And you don’t want to go?” Taehyung tipped his head to the side.

“No, it’s not that. Maybe I –”

Then an epiphany struck him. Of course.

“Do you know if Dad still has the Sassicaia?” he supposed he could go ask him now.

“’85?” Taehyung broke into a grin, and Seokjin gave him a knowing look. “Classic. But I’m not sure, I haven’t been back home in a while. Not a bad idea, though. And I don’t think Mom would mind.”

Seokjin’s eyes softened. “No, she wouldn’t.”

The afternoon ended without much fanfare, despite the tumultuous morning that had him teetering on the edge a little. Before he left the office, Seokjin made sure to confirm with his father about the existence of the said red wine in their cellar. His father was more than ecstatic when his son said that he was going to give the vintage to you as an engagement gift, which made Seokjin sigh with relief.

He switched into a pair of casual jeans and a woollen pullover, topping it off with a casual suit jacket. He made sure the small box was in the pocket of his jacket before he made his way to his childhood home to pick up the only bottle of Sassicaia left. He made sure to grab other drinks he knew your parents might like, not lingering any longer than necessary. He texted you before he got into his car to let you know he was on his way to the Hwang Hotel to pick you up.

“Grigio,” he said out loud, reading the text you sent as soon as he stepped through the doors. He was beginning to think you liked working from the restaurant rather than your actual office. The sight that greeted him let him know why.

You were surrounded by a few hotel staff and waiters alike (he could tell from the difference in uniform) in a booth, engrossed as one bartender with large round eyes told a story animatedly. He couldn’t hear from where he stood, but the way your hair fell back over your shoulders as you tilted your head back and laughed with relish convinced him that it must be that hilarious.

One of the staff with long raven hair kept in a low ponytail saw his entrance and proceeded to whisper something in your ear. His gaze locked into yours and he watched your expression melt into a soft smile, which sent his brain into overdrive. Each quick step he took mimicked his heartbeat, and he willed himself not to buckle under the weight of your stare.

You stood to greet him, revealing the dress you wore to be similar to the one he saw you in a week ago when he’d first met you. It wasn’t quite the replica, but it hugged your curves like it had been made specifically for you. He pulled you in for a quick kiss, which you more than willingly reciprocated.

He noticed your sudden surge of bravery during your previous date, which initially took him by surprise. He wasn’t saying he didn’t like it, per se, but he’d wholeheartedly let you take the reins when it came to initiating affection; he’ll follow whatever boundaries you’ll set.

“You’re early,” you breathed out when he pulled away. He doesn’t miss the blush that began forming in the apples of your cheeks, which he liked perhaps a little too much. “Also, we don’t have to…um…in front of them. I mean, they don’t know the whole thing, but they’re not the paparazzi, so –”

Seokjin grinned at your state of disarray but patted your shoulder wordlessly to let you know that he got your message. You proceeded to introduce your company one by one.

“Jungkook.” The doe-eyed storyteller, who looked too young to be working behind the bar. He lifted his hand and attempted a small wave. Seokjin returned his gesture with a small nod.

“Joohyun.” The raven-haired who’d let you know of his arrival. He recognized her as the one from the front desk days ago, as well. What were her exact words? Good-for-nothing-billionaires? Seokjin grinned, and she gave him a knowing smile.

So that must mean—

“Yoongi,” he greeted before you could introduce him, extending his hand out. Yoongi’s cat-like gaze studied Seokjin’s hand, before firmly clasping it in his. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise.” Yoongi’s voice was gruff, his stare as heavy as the hand that held Seokjin’s.

“Good things, I hope?” Seokjin ventured carefully, but Yoongi’s indifference told him that he knew a lot. Probably more than he’d like to let on.

“Only that you might be the devil’s incarnate,” Yoongi grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. This earned a few quiet laughs from everyone including him.

“Yoongi!” you chastised, exasperated. He shrugged and grinned at you wickedly.

“Your words, not mine.”

Seokjin turned to you with amusement in his eyes, eyebrows knitted in confusion. You offered an apologetic smile. “I may have said that….”

“Multiple times,” Yoongi added. You fidgeted beside him as you cleared your throat.

“Oh wow, look at the time,” you flicked your empty wrist. “We must go.”

“I heard you say he was early just now,” Joohyun pointed out while smirking.

“I hate you all.” You rolled your eyes, but a grin formed on your lips, nonetheless. This earned another round of laughs, even from Yoongi. Seokjin was left in awe at how you managed to draw people in; how you interacted with them.

“No, but really, we should go. The drive is half an hour, and my mom would murder me if we’re late.” You shrugged on your coat, earning a defiant boo! from Joohyun.

After bidding them farewell, you clung onto Seokjin’s arm as you exited the restaurant.

“You should’ve said you were going for a casual. I wouldn’t have dressed up so…” you mumbled so that only he could hear as both of you crossed the lobby.

“Nonsense,” he dipped his head in disagreement. “You look beautiful.”

You turned your ruddy cheeks away from his gaze, and a smile formed on his lips.

“Have a good evening, Ms. Hwang, Mr. Kim,” the doorman bowed. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Mr. Park,” you beamed at the old man and Seokjin nodded. The gesture reminded him that your friends didn’t quite share the sentiment — at least not when he was there, anyway.

“How much do they know?” Seokjin began as soon as he pulled out of parking. You gave him a puzzling look and he happily elaborated. “Your friends, I mean. About our agreement.”

“Only Joohyun. I didn’t tell Yoongi, but he figured it out on his own, sort of. Jungkook knew the least — just the fact that we’re in an arranged marriage and that the engagement announcement was for publicity purposes.”

Seokjin nodded; he had a feeling but hearing it from you made him feel better.

“Is that okay?” you asked cautiously.

“You trust them, I trust you,” was all he said.

Seokjin watched you melt into the seat comfortably and he allowed himself to visibly relax as well. He felt queasy on the drive to your hotel from his home, but having you there beside him now, rid him of all his qualms.

He might as well talk about it before he was to meet your parents.

“We have to set our stories straight.” Seokjin broke the silence, and you nodded in agreement.

“My mom asked about it yesterday, and I told her it was instant attraction when you came to visit me a week ago,” you laughed, sounding slightly unhinged. Seokjin could tell you were nervous, as you kept glancing at his direction every so often. “No one was around to witness our conversation at that time, so it’s the perfect origin story.”

He nodded mutely; eyes focused on the road ahead. It was simple and as close to the truth as possible. “There’s another thing. I was going to give it to you tomorrow for your dress fitting, but it seems like I won’t make it.”

He cursed Namjoon for having such perfect timing to return from his honeymoon trip. But the task was urgent and putting it off another day could cause a delay in the construction of the building. Seokjin couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

The next stoplight hit, and he reached inside his suit jacket for the velvet box. He was hit with a wave of nervousness as he carefully opened it to reveal a round cut two-carat diamond ring.

You inhaled a sharp breath, “Seokjin, I…”

“I wasn’t sure of your style, so I opted for something simple.” He took your left hand in his and slid the ring with ease.

“It’s beautiful,” you stared at the glimmering rock, snug around your finger before lifting your moistened eyes to meet his gentle ones. The corner of his lips lifted into a small smile and his heart swelled with pride. There was an odd tension in the air when neither the two of you pulled away, your hand warm in Seokjin’s grasp.

The air in the car grew hot and Seokjin found it hard to swallow the lump in his throat. The unconventionality of the situation you were both in terrified him – you weren’t someone he’d have a long-term relationship with, so he had no qualms about committing. But at the same time, your stint with him isn’t short, either.

“Wow. I guess we’re unofficially official,” you mumbled, laughing quietly. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Seokjin was close enough that he could physically count the lashes in your eyes as they fluttered softly against your ruddy cheeks. But if he leaned closer…

The blaring horn that came from behind the car was enough to snap him out of his thoughts. He straightened up on his chair just as the car pulled up beside them, pausing to give Seokjin the middle finger. Rolling his eyes, he nodded and waved the driver off.

“What an asshole,” you seethed. He turned just in time to see you flipping off the guy as he drove away. Seokjin titled his head back and laughed, easing his feet off the break as his car began moving once again.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

You shrugged, smirking victoriously.

Seokjin kept tabs in his head. Two down, one to go.

“I got you something else.” He trailed his eyes on the road, careful not to lose focus. You freeze, laughing nervously.

“There’s more?” you squeaked.

Seokjin nodded.

“Taehyung was biting my ass about getting you chocolates as a congratulatory gift of some sort.” You laughed quietly beside him, mumbling something about ‘Typical Taehyung’. He left the bit out about almost giving you a we-can’t-see-each-other-anymore farewell bouquet. “So, it got me thinking…”

He paused, giving you a slanted gaze. You eagerly hung onto his words and he smirked.

“…about how much you drink.”

You balk at him and scoff, crossing your arms in front of you. “Are you insinuating that I’m an alcoholic?”

He bit back a smile; he was enjoying this a little too much.

“Anyway, I think we’ve established that I don’t know what your likes and dislikes are, yet,” he paused, licking his lips. He hoped you weren’t offended by his statement, and he took your shrug as an incentive to proceed. “I did notice, however, that you had a certain preference when you ordered your drinks.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” you joked. “Why, did you purchase me a vineyard? Will it be included in the prenup agreement?”

“I can if you want,” he smirked, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I’m kidding. Don’t throw your money at me. I don’t want it,” you deadpanned.

“I know you don’t,” Seokjin smiled fondly at you. “Dad has a lot of different vintages, and I thought you’d like wine better than chocolate.”

“I would’ve been fine with either one, honestly. Or both,” you beamed at him. “Is it red?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “Sassicaia, 1985.”

You gaped at him. “That’s weird. We’ve been trying to add that in our inventory, but it’s so hard to get a hold of one from that year. We’ve had to settle for recent ones, which isn’t as good, I assume, but — wow.”

“I guess now you’ll find out.” He grinned, but his hand gripped the steering wheel. “It was my mom’s favourite, but she’d only have it on special occasions. I got in trouble when I was fifteen because Namjoon and I snuck into the cellar and emptied a bottle. Little did I know, that would be the last time I’ll see her.”

Seokjin laughed morosely at the memory, but you didn’t say anything. He let the silence simmer for a bit. He didn’t plan on sharing that much but once a little bit slipped, he let the whole dam open.

“I’ll only accept it if you add it on the prenup.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t take it back,” he smirked, letting the topic pass. He loosened his grip on the wheel and rolled his shoulder back.

* * *

An hour and a half later, the bottle of Merlot that Seokjin brought with him was almost empty; courtesy of your mother, of course. She was rightfully buzzed and spilling all of your embarrassing childhood stories she could remember; and the woman had a damn good memory. You gave a pleading look to your father, but there was only so much he could do.

“Remember that one time you asked me if you could marry our previous neighbour’s son? What was his name?” she trailed off, snapping her fingers towards your father.

He more than graciously helped. “Hyunwoo.”

“Hyunwoo!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. You rolled your eyes and prepared yourself for an onslaught of memories you couldn’t bury. “You practically had a fit in their front lawn, refusing to leave until he proposed to you.”

“I was five, Mom.” You deadpanned, stabbing the leftover asparagus before twirling your fork mindlessly. She all but glossed over your protest.

“Anyway, I’m bringing this up because I remember I saw him at my friend’s daughter’s wedding three weeks ago — he told me he was the best man — and he grew up! And I mean actually grew! He’s got these huge muscles and —”

“Mom please get to the point,” you shared a look with your dad before you both shook your head. Seokjin laughed beside you as he finished the rest of his water.

(He’d argued that he was the designated driver so he wouldn’t drink, despite your mother offering that the two of you could sleepover, ending the sentence with a not-so-subtle wink.)

“Right, well, he still remembered and asked about you! Imagine that. Actually, now that I mentioned it, he asked me to pass along his number to you, but by that point, the deal with Seokjin’s father was in the works, so I couldn’t possibly have done that.”

You paused as you stared at your mother incredulously, trying to keep your level of anger to a minimum.

“You still could have told me. You had no right to keep me from reconnecting with old friends.”

She scoffed. “I couldn’t let you ruin the deal, Y/N.”

Your anger spilled over as you angrily slammed your silverware down. Gone was your mother who had apologized to you the night prior for her actions, or lack-there-of. What emerged was the controlling Youngmi who needed things to go her way, no matter how wrong the path carved was.

Seokjin must have noticed the steam billowing from your ears because he placed a comforting hand on your knee. He gave you an encouraging smile, and it made your heart flutter.

You let your mother ramble on as his palm didn’t leave you. His thumb occasionally skimmed on the exposed skin of your thigh, which sent a warm feeling where you made yourself off-limits from Seokjin. That wasn’t part of your agreement and was something you weren’t willing to sign off on. Despite that, he made it difficult for you not to think about his mouth on your lips, down the nape of your neck, to the valley between your chest and –

“— isn’t that right, dear?” your mother looked at you expectantly, her face as red as a tomato. She definitely needed to stop drinking more alcohol before she passed out.

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” you glanced at Seokjin for help, feeling warm and flushed. He shrugged, those sinful lips quirking up with a smirk. You leaned in close to him to whisper, “What did I just agree to?”

“She said you were going to bless her with grandchildren soon,” his hand lifted to prop his elbow on the table, leaving your thigh devoid of heat. Your face blanched and your head snapped to your mother, who was already giggling.

“Alright, I think that’s enough fun for one night,” your father stood from the head of the table. He gently placed his arms around her shoulder to help her stand while he gave you an apologetic smile.

“Good idea. We’ll clean up,” you sighed, relaxing into your chair for the first time that night. Your father mumbled something about coming back down to help after he’d set down your staggering mother. It was quiet for a while, and neither you nor Seokjin spoke. You felt that he was studying you, chin snuggly resting on his palm.

“What?” you asked, refusing to look anywhere but him.

“It wasn’t as bad as you made it sound to be,” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“For you, maybe.” You rolled your eyes and stood to gather the soiled dishes. “You weren’t the subject of constant badgering. You’re not welcomed to share any information you heard from my mother against me, by the way.”

He followed you into the kitchen carrying glasses of wine. Carefully stacking up the plates, you turned on the faucet to soak them.

“Not even the part where you agreed to have children with me?”

You whirled around only to be met with his broad shoulders that were only accentuated by the knitted pullover that he wore. The proximity made his presence feel imposing. No matter how many times he’d held you against him for the cameras to capture, you might never get used to him.

Like a moth to a flame, your gaze fell onto his, eyes wicked with the anticipation for your answer.

“I was distracted.” You said as nonchalantly as you could. That’s how much you were willing to go as far as admissions went; half-truths were becoming your motto.

“By what, exactly?” he challenged, stepping closer. Instincts told you to back off, but you held your ground. It turned out being brave cost you the remaining personal space you had. You gulped audibly, eyes trailing down to his lush lips before meeting his gaze once more. Why the hell were they always so plump and moist?

As if on cue, he leaned closer and your heart began hammering nervously against your chest. Sure, you had kissed him before, but not like this. The tension made you squeeze your thighs together as your shoulder tensed.

Your eyes were beginning to flutter close when you noticed that he leaned his head to the side, arms reaching for something behind you.

His breath was hot against your ears when he said, “You forgot about the water.”

You quickly side-stepped from him as he turned off the faucet. You swore you could hear his quiet laughter as you walked back to the dining table to clear more dishes. The quiet pattering down the stairs signalled your father’s arrival.

“You don’t have to clean it up, I’ll be fine. You should start heading out soon,” he glanced at the wall clock on the far end of the room and nodded. “Before it gets too late.”

“But dad, there’s a lot to clean up, and I don’t want you to —”

“There’s a reason why they invented a dishwasher, Y/N,” your father patted your shoulders carefully. “I’ll be fine.”

“Wow, Dad, I didn’t know you’d want to get rid of me that quickly,” you rolled your eyes, grinning playfully at him.

“To my favourite daughter? I could never,” he said, exasperated.

You giggled and moved closer to wrap your arms around his large figure.

“I’m sorry for our shortcomings; your mother and I,” your father began with a shaky voice.

“Not you, too,” you laughed softly, pulling away from him. “Mom already gave me the talk yesterday, don’t worry.”

He looked at you hesitantly, and you reassuringly squeezed his arm.

“Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mr. Hwang.” Seokjin emerged from the kitchen after putting away the rest of the plates.

“I’m glad you liked the food. I wasn’t sure if it was up to your standard,” father said playfully, before turning to give you a wink.

“That’s hardly the case at all,” Seokjin laughed softly. “It reminded me a lot of home. My mom liked cooking a lot, too.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’re part of the family now. Holidays are like this too – only more chaotic. We have a huge extended family,” he laughed, clapping Seokjin in the back. You winced; technically, Christmas was a little over two months away. Would your agreement with Seokjin be in effect, by then, and you’ll be on your merry way? Or would you still be ‘together-but-not-really’?

“I’m looking forward to it,” Seokjin smiled genuinely.

Was this part of his act, too? If so, he was pretty damn convincing.

#seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #jin fic #seokjin scenario #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #writing #seokjin

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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years

Text

Poor Little Rich Boy

Hartley Rathaway isn't running away from home. (Probably.) Nor has he been kidnapped by the Trickster (not that Kid Flash believes that). What he is doing is celebrating the craziest 16th birthday ever.

Trigger warning for emotional/verbal abuse.

He checked himself, double-checked himself. His hair was perfectly coiffed, his suit was perfectly buttoned and perfectly neat, and he was perfectly prepared, mentally, for the show he was about to put on. However, it never hurt to be careful, so he turned to the butler who was to escort him outside and asked,

“How do I look, Edward?”

“Very good, Master Hartley. The Master and Missus should be pleased.” Thus assured, Hartley nodded, and the butler led him into the grand hall and to his parents. Predictably, both of them were impeccably dressed as well, and his mother was clinging to his father in an affectionate manner. For all the world, they looked like a loving couple, but Hartley knew better. He had heard the vicious rumors the maids and footmen told about his father’s rendezvous (with his hearing, it was impossible not to overhear), and he had certainly heard the squabbles the two of them had behind closed doors when they thought no one could hear-and maybe no one could-no one but him. If they hadn’t been in love with each others’ money, if they hadn’t been afraid that a divorce would lower their reputation amongst their business partners, they would have divorced long ago.

“I trust that you are prepared to make a good showing for our guests and the press,” his father said. It was definitely a statement, not a question.

“Of course, sir,” Hartley replied. There was nothing else to say. With that, he and his parents left their house and walked into their veranda, where Hartley was immediately blinded by flashing lights. This had happened enough times that he was fairly used to it, so instead he simply put on his happiest smile and acted like he was thrilled to be at this soiree. After about two minutes, his father smiled at him (for the benefit of the cameras).

“Happy sixteenth birthday, son,” he said warmly.

“Thank you, father. This soiree is better than I could have imagined,” Hartley replied politely. He hated his parents’ soirees, but it would never do to let the public know. His mother leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“I can’t believe my little boy is already sixteen,” she said, in her best “sad parent” voice. Hartley forced a laugh.

“I suppose it had to happen eventually,” he replied.

“That it did, and your mother and I were prepared for it. Because you are sixteen now, we decided to purchase you your own private plane,” his father said. This time, Hartley didn’t have to feign his excitement (or his surprise).

“Really? Thank you!” he exclaimed. Did this mean that they were finally going to let him out of the house on his own?

“You are quite welcome, son,” his father replied. Then he pulled Hartley into a hug and whispered,

“If you expect to keep possession of the plane, I expect you to tell me every time you leave the house with it, where you are going, when you are returning, and who you are planning to meet with. Furthermore, you must have at least four chaperones with you no matter where you go, and I must know who they are before you leave. If you fail to do this, I will take the plane back, and you will be subject to an 8:30 PM curfew.” The two broke apart, and Hartley’s excitement vanished. There went his hope of finally being able to learn about the world outside of his parents’ social circle. However, he couldn’t reveal his disappointment, so he forced a smile back on his face and said,

“Thank you again, mother and father. You’re terrific.” After three more minutes of smiling and saying generically excited things for the cameras, Hartley finally got a reprieve, in the form of a loud splash. Bruce Wayne, Gotham City’s most eligible bachelor (and most notorious playboy), had apparently had one too many glasses of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Grand Cru and had fallen into the fountain in a rather spectacular fashion, thereby attracting the attention of all the cameras and allowing Hartley to stop smiling and pretending to be happy.

“Am I excused yet, sir?” he asked his father.

“No, you are not. Your birthday is a big opportunity for us to network, and you need to be here for us to do so. This is for your future, son,” his father replied.

“You mean it’s for your wallet,” Hartley muttered.

“What was that, son?”

“Nothing,” Hartley said quickly. The last thing he wanted was to make his father angry at him. His father frowned.

“See that it stays that way.” Hartley started to give his father an assurance that it would when a loud burst of laughter came from the press as Bruce Wayne attempted to get out of the fountain, only to slip and fall back into the water. Hartley would have been mortified if he had been in that situation, but Bruce Wayne simply stood back up a second time and got out of the fountain, laughing and waving at the cameras.

“That Wayne is so crass,” his mother sniffed disapprovingly.

“Well, what can you expect? He’s new money. They’re all like that,” his father replied. However, their conversation about the flaws of new money people was cut short when the reporters, who were no longer being distracted by the entertainment provided by Bruce Wayne, turned their cameras back to them. Hartley and his parents immediately turned their smiles back on for the cameras, and led him towards another family, whom Hartley recognized as Mr., Mrs., and Kathryn Kendell, the wealthy owners of a fast food chain (Hartley couldn’t remember which one).

“Hartley, now that you’re getting close to adulthood, your father and I have decided, along with Mr. and Mrs. Kendell, that you and Kathryn should start dating.” Hartley was so shocked (and mildly terrified) that he almost dropped his act. Although his father had not said it, he knew that “dating” meant that his parents were planning for him to marry Kathryn once he finished college-and Kathryn was the most shallow, vain, and spoiled girl in his parents’ entire social circle. Why had they picked her? (If he had been braver, he might have wondered why he didn’t get a say, but he had always known that his parents were going to decide who he married, just as his grandparents had decided that his parents were going to marry each other. It was just how things were done.) However, he couldn’t say anything in front of the TV cameras, so instead he just smiled and tried to act like he was excited about the prospect of dating the girl. After a few minutes of small talk between him, Kathryn, and their parents, the news cameras finally lost interest in them and went off to film more of Bruce Wayne, who had evidently brought two dates to the soiree and was now trying to prevent a fight between them. As soon as the cameras were off, Hartley frowned and said,

“Sir, I….I’m not sure I’m ready for a serious relationship.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hartley. Your mother and I were dating by the time we were your age. You will be fine. And besides, we and the Kendells both stand to benefit from a marriage between you and their charming daughter, so you need to cooperate with our plans,” his father said. Hartley winced. He really didn’t want to date (let alone marry!) Kathryn Kendell.

“But sir….I don’t think that Kathryn and I are compatible,” Hartley replied.

“You’re too young to know whether you’re compatible with her or not, son. That’s why we arranged this relationship,” his mother said.

“What does Kathryn think about it?” Hartley asked. He was almost afraid to know the answer, but maybe she felt the same way about him as he did about her.

“I love the idea. Why do you think I had Daddy set this up with your parents in the first place? You’re adorable, and you’ve got so much money. I’ve had a crush on you for a really long time,” Kathryn said. Hartley had to resist the urge to groan. Why had she had to choose him?

“See, Hartley? This will work out perfectly,” his mother said, and his father whispered,

“Besides, we’re lucky that we were able to arrange a marriage for you with anyone, given your….defect.” Hartley frowned, knowing that his father was talking about the fact that he was almost stone deaf without his highly advanced hearing aids, and wished, not for the first time, that his parents would stop blaming him for something so utterly out of his control.

“Rachel, Osgood, why don’t we leave our two lovebirds alone together? No romance can bloom with us old-timers around,” Mr. Kendell said.

“If you think that it will help, of course,” his mother said. With that, his parents and the Kendells walked to another part of the veranda, and he was left with Kathryn. As soon as his parents were no longer watching him, he said,

“I think I see a member of the Fall Out Boys,” and bolted into the gardens as soon as she looked away, where, much to his surprise, he found Bruce Wayne.

“Hello, Hartley. What are you doing here?” the man asked, sounding remarkably sober for a man who was so drunk that he had tripped into a fountain.

“Hello, Mr. Wayne. I’m...well….I’m trying to avoid the girlfriend my parents picked out for me. What are you doing here?”

“Hiding from my girlfriends. I managed to get them to stop hating each other, but now they both hate me, and, well, I thought it would be wise to hide for a bit until they cool off. Did your parents really choose a girlfriend for you?”

“Yes. I know it is traditional, but…..I do wish they had chosen someone other than Kathryn Kendell. We’re so very different, and I don’t think we’d be happy together,” Hartley replied.

“Is that your polite way of saying that she’s a selfish brat?” Bruce Wayne asked. Hartley almost laughed, but stopped himself. He had to try to think well of the girl who would probably be his wife (whether he liked it or not).

“It wouldn’t hurt her to learn a few more manners,” he admitted. Bruce laughed.

“No wonder your parents like her. They’re just as stuck up, arrogant, and pretentious as she is-no offense,” he said. Maybe he was drunk after all…...although Hartley had to admit Bruce had a point about his parents’ personalities.

“None taken. You did a nice dive earlier,” Hartley said. Bruce Wayne laughed.

“Thanks. Happy birthday, kid,” he replied. Hartley smiled.

“Thank you.” However, before their conversation could continue, Hartley’s very angry parents stormed into the garden.

“Hartley Robert Rathaway, you are grounded! Abandoning Kathryn like that was unspeakably rude and inappropriate, and you hurt her feelings badly. We’re just lucky her parents didn’t decide to leave. You are going to your room, young man, and you are staying there until I say otherwise,” his father said. Hartley sighed, knowing from experience what this meant. His father clapped his hands, and one of the security guards arrived and led him off towards his room.

“If you ever need someone to talk to at the next soiree, find me, Hartley!” Bruce Wayne yelled. Hartley appreciated the sentiment, but he was dragged out of the man’s hearing range before he could tell him so. About three minutes later, the security guard pushed him into his room and locked him inside. Hartley kicked the door in frustration, but he knew that he was trapped. His room was a good sixty feet off the ground, so he couldn’t leave via the window, and his door was made of solid cypress wood. He was going to be staying here until his father let him out, which, if the pattern established the last time held, would be about three days from now. After about an hour of fuming, he pulled out his flute and started to play, with his frustration adding strength to the song. He spent the rest of his birthday alternately seething, trying not to cry, and playing his instruments, all while trapped in his room. His father did have one of the servants bring him dinner, but the person who brought it to him did not speak to him, and neither did the guard by the door. After eating, he fell asleep at nine, utterly exhausted by the emotions of the day. He was woken at about three AM by a loud crashing sound. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said that someone was in his room. He looked around in confusion, but was unable to make out anything in the dark, so he got out of his bed and started fumbling around to see what had made the noise-only to see that his window was open. Hartley knew he hadn’t opened it, so how had it been opened? His room was several stories off the ground and, even if someone had managed to get a tall enough ladder, the grounds of his estate were literally crawling with guards, most of whom were as well trained-or better trained-than police officers. There was no way anyone could have gotten to his window in order to open it-and yet, it was wide open. While he was staring at the window in confusion, he felt someone-it was definitely a person-bump into him. He was about to scream when the person exclaimed,

“Darn! Darn, darn, double darn! Why did I have to pick a bedroom? Of all the rotten luck! I went through all this work to pull off this trick, and then I give myself away by walking into a bedroom!” The person’s voice was high and squeaky, and Hartley started to wonder if he was dreaming or going crazy. There was no way that a squeaky-voiced person, roughly his size, had managed to get into his room when it was sixty feet off the ground. It had to be a dream.

“W-who are you?” Hartley asked, trying to sound less afraid than he was. The other person seemed to turn on a flashlight, because suddenly Hartley could see that the intruder was a boy about his age, with blonde hair, blue eyes, a garish mess of a leotard, an odd-looking mask, a huge blue cape, and powder-blue shoes. In short, he was the least threatening home invader ever.

“Leaving,” the kid replied.

“Wait! H-how did you get in here? The estate is crawling with guards, and my room is sixty feet off the ground!” Hartley demanded. The kid stopped in his tracks and actually smiled slightly.

“I invented a pair of shoes that let me walk on air,” he said proudly. Hartley looked at him skeptically. There was no way that anyone with such a terrible fashion sense had invented technology that could revolutionize the globe-was there?

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said. The other boy clicked his heels together, and suddenly he was levitating a good six feet off the ground. Hartley gasped.

“See? Airwalkers,” the boy said proudly. Hartley just nodded, dumbfounded. This kid had invented shoes that defied gravity, and he was using them to break and enter?

“A-are you going to hurt me?” he asked quietly. The boy didn’t look (or sound) dangerous, but you never knew. Maybe he was older than he looked and was actually a serial killer or something. The other boy looked hurt by the accusation.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a con man, not a butcher. In fact, you weren’t even supposed to see me-I was trying to find an unoccupied room and just thought that no one was in it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go. It was nice meeting you, though,” he said. He started to walk toward the window, and suddenly Hartley had an idea. It was totally insane, but it would be the perfect way to see the world that existed outside of his parents’ social circle, and to get back at his parents for micromanaging his entire life.

“Take me with you,” he said, sounding braver than he felt.

“What?” the other boy asked, clearly having been taken off guard by the request.

“Take me with you. If you don’t, I will make a racket and attract the security guards,” Hartley repeated. The small, rational part of his brain was telling him that this was a terrible idea, but he ignored it. He was tired of his parents and even more tired of being a Rathaway, and he just wanted to get away from it all, to go somewhere that didn’t expect him to perform all the time.

“Okay, okay, you can come with. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights,” the intruder said. He took off one of his airwalker shoes and handed it to Hartley, who put it on. Hartley then grabbed the boy’s hand and hung on tightly to him as they started walking out the window. Before they got five feet out the window, however, Hartley looked down-and immediately wished that he hadn’t. The ground was terrifyingly far away.

“Are you sure you aren’t afraid of heights? You look a little green,” the boy asked.

“I'm fine,” Hartley lied in a timorous voice as he swallowed his vomit.

“I can always take you back if you’re too afraid to go on,” the boy said mockingly. Hartley frowned. He couldn’t admit to being scared now.

“I told you, I am fine!”

“Just making sure,” the boy replied. Ten minutes of relative silence ensued as they continued to walk. The boy, evidently used to heights, whistled merrily, while Hartley berated himself for thinking that this was a good idea and tried not to faint, vomit, or think about how far he would fall if the boy dropped him or the airwalker shoe malfunctioned.

“You know, if we’re going to be hanging out together, we should probably get to know a little about each other, don’t you think?” the boy said suddenly. Hartley nodded. Maybe talking would distract him from how far off the ground they were.

“All right. Do you want to begin, or should I?” he replied quietly.

“I will! I’m the Trickster, but since we’re friends now, you can call me James Jesse. That’s my real name. I used to be a tightrope walker and an acrobat in the circus, which-trust me-is a lot more interesting than working for snobby rich people like the Rathaways, and now I’m the best con man who ever lived and I get to fight the Flash. It’s a lot of fun,” the boy said.

“Working for the Rathaways?” Hartley asked in confusion. Had this kid-James- been one of his parents’ servants at some point in between traveling with a circus and becoming a con man?

“Yeah. Why would you have been in their mansion if you don’t work for them?” Hartley stared at him in shock. James thought that he was a servant?

“Because I am their son,” Hartley replied. This time, it was James’ turn to stare in shock.

“You’re Hartley Rathaway?” he squeaked.

“Yes,” Hartley replied.

“Are you crazy? Your parents are gonna think I kidnapped you, and they’re gonna send every cop in the country after us!”

“I….I didn’t think about that,” Hartley said weakly. James’ arrival and the subsequent craziness had made him almost forget who he was, but now the reality came crashing down around him again. He was the heir to the fourth or fifth largest fortune in the world. No one would believe that he had voluntarily decided to leave his mansion, his servants, his apparently loving parents, his fine education, and his private jet in order to spend time with a crazy-looking teenage (was he a teenager?) burglar who was also a self-proclaimed con artist. If he hadn’t just done it, even HE wouldn’t have believed it. The media (and his parents, and the police) were definitely going to think that this boy had kidnapped him. Why was he so stupid?

“Yeah, I figured that out on my own. I’m taking you home before they figure out that you’re gone,” James replied. Hartley frowned. True, he didn’t want to be the reason that James was arrested for kidnapping, but he didn’t want to go back to being a prisoner in his own home, either. This was probably his only chance to live even a few days as anything but his parents’ puppet, and he didn’t want to give that chance up.

“I’m not going to let you take me back home. If you want to drop me off somewhere and go off on your own so that you don’t get accused of kidnapping, that’s fine, but I am not going back home until my parents drag me back there,” he said.

“Give me a break, Richie Rich. You live in a mansion, your family employs a hundred servants, you’ve had the best education money can buy, you’ve been to at least ten different countries, and your parents just got you a plane for your sixteenth birthday. Your life can’t be that bad,” James scoffed. Hartley laughed weakly.

“Oh, really? My parents are obsessed with molding me into the “perfect heir”-or at least, as close as they can get given the fact that I’m deaf, which, by the way, they have made clear is a sign that I am defective. My father has already chosen my college, my major, my minor, my roommate, the jobs that I will get after college, and my wife. You heard about one of his birthday gifts to me. The other was my betrothal in all but name to a spoiled, selfish girl that I honestly cannot stand. Neither he nor my mother asked my opinion about any of this, although, considering the fact that they talk to me about once a month, maybe that isn’t surprising. I’ve spent my entire life being told what to wear, what to do, where to go, and what to think by them, and I am tired of it-all of it! I’m tired of never being able to leave my room without a chaperone, I’m tired of having all my decisions made for me, and I’m really, really tired of being a Rathaway. Do you still think my life can’t be that bad? Trust me, you have no idea how bad it is!”

“You have your own plane, your own golf course, your own tennis courts, two Olympic-sized pools, and a professional chef, and you’re going to inherit 15 billion dollars. Forgive me if I’m less than convinced that your life is bad,” James replied.

“I spent most of my birthday locked in my room by my own father! If you hadn’t broken in, I probably would have been in there for three days!” James looked at him in surprise.

“Your dad locked you in your room? What did you do, attack someone?”

“No. I lied to the girl that they have decided I will marry to get away from her. Father was most displeased. He said that I had hurt her feelings and jeopardized their relationship with her parents, and so he had me locked in my room. It is his usual method for punishing my, ah, “unseemly displays” of rudeness,” Hartley replied.

“He’s done it more than once?” James sounded a tad appalled, though Hartley wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though his father was hitting him or anything.

“Yes. Usually it lasts about three days, although there was one time that it lasted for a full week, when I was 14 and told him that I didn’t want to go to his old college,” Hartley replied. He was aware that his parents would be furious if they knew that he was revealing so many secrets to a complete stranger, but he was so frustrated with them that he didn’t care.

“Does he feed you?” James asked.

“Of course he feeds me. He wouldn’t want his only heir to starve,” Hartley replied.

“Okay, okay, I give. Your life sounds pretty bad,” James admitted. Hartley began to reiterate his refusal to return home when he was interrupted by a yawn.

“You know, why don’t we discuss this more tomorrow-er, later today? I don’t want you to fall asleep while we’re a hundred feet off the ground, and we’re pretty close to one of my hideouts, anyway,” James said. Hartley looked at him oddly.

“What happened to (here a large yawn interrupted him) not wanting my parents to think I kidnapped you?” James shrugged.

“Well, if even half of what you told me is true, you need a friend, and besides, you’re way safer with me than you would be on your own. I’d rather be accused of kidnapping than murder. Oh, and you should probably prepare for descent. My hideout’s right in that clearing,” he replied. Ten minutes later, he and Hartley were back on solid ground, much to Hartley’s relief. James then led him to what appeared to be a trailer home painted in fluorescent green and pepto-bismol pink.

“I was under the impression that hideouts were supposed to be easy to miss,” Hartley said. James smiled.

“Would you expect a supervillain to hide out in a green and pink trailer home?” Hartley had to admit that James had a point, even if he thought that his description of himself as a super villain was a tad exaggerated. James opened the door to the trailer and led Hartley inside. The walls were painted with blue and yellow stripes, and yo-yos, hula hoops, dart guns, and unicycles were strewn around the floor.

“You can sleep on my couch,” James said. He gestured at a lime-green lump in the middle of the room. Hartley didn’t particularly want to sleep on the ratty piece of furniture, but he was so tired that he collapsed on it anyway, and was dead to the world after only a few seconds. He was woken at 9:00 AM by his new companion.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. We’re on the news,” James told him.

“Gimme five more minutes,” Hartley mumbled. He had never had a more uncomfortable night, and he was not at all ready to wake up.

“Look, Richie Rich, I know you’re not used to getting up early, but if you want to avoid going back home, we’re gonna have to go. Your parents have figured out that you’re not at home, and because people know that I’m in the area, they think that I kidnapped you, just like I said they would. We’re just lucky the Flash is off with the Justice League fighting aliens right now. If he was here, you’d already be back home.” Now Hartley was wide awake, and he jumped to his feet, only for a red-and-yellow blur to appear and solidify into what looked like the Flash, if the Flash had been under five feet tall.

“You’re under arrest!” James grinned, apparently familiar with the new arrival.

“Why, if it isn’t little Baby Flash!” he exclaimed. “Baby Flash” scowled.

“That’s not my name, and you are in trouble,” he said.

“Um, who are you?” Hartley asked. Not Baby Flash smiled.

“I’m Kid Flash, and I’m here to rescue you,” he said. Hartley looked at James in confusion. He hadn’t heard of any “Kid Flash.” James grinned.

“Hartley, this is Baby Flash. He’s Flash’s sidekick, and he has all of his powers. Baby Flash, this is Hartley Rathaway. He’s rich,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi,” Hartley said, not really knowing what else to say.

“Are you okay, Mr. Rathaway? Has he hurt you?”

“Call me Hartley. Mr. Rathaway is my father,” Hartley replied. Kid Flash smiled.

“All right. Hartley, then. It sounds like you’re okay, so let’s get you home,” he said, before Hartley could continue.

“Wait!” Hartley exclaimed. The boy looked at him in surprise.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to get home?” he asked.

“No, I don’t. I wasn’t kidnapped-I ran away,” Hartley replied quietly. He knew that the boy superhero probably wouldn’t believe him, but he had to at least try to convince him that he hadn’t been taken from his house against his will. Sure enough, Kid Flash frowned and glared at James.

“Undo your mind control, Trickster-now!” he demanded. It would have been a lot more persuasive, Hartley thought, if it hadn’t come from a boy who was nearly two heads shorter than both of them. How old was Kid Flash, anyway?

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re angry,” James said.

“I said undo the mind control! And I am not cute!” Hartley sighed.

“Kid Flash, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I am not under mind control. I ran away because I am tired of being a Rathaway, and this is my only chance to experience some freedom,” he insisted. Kid Flash looked at him skeptically, and then glared at James again.

“Trickster, I’m not kidding. Undo the mind control, or else,” he said firmly. James laughed.

“First of all, that’s the least intimidating threat ever. Second, I’m not mind controlling him. Mind controlling is Mirror Master’s thing, not mine. And even if I could mind control people, which, by the way, I can’t, how stupid would I have to be to mind control one of the most famous billionaires on the planet? Even if that WASN’T totally unoriginal, it would be an awful trick. Nobody would ever believe that Hartley Rathaway had voluntarily left his mansion to pal around with me. Heck, I barely believe it, and it’s true! Face it, kid, your own assumption that I hypnotized him makes it clear that I didn’t do anything of the sort. I’m an artist, not a hack,” he said.

“Then why is he here?” Kid Flash asked.

“He just told you: he’s tired of his life,” James replied cheerfully.

“How could anyone get tired of getting to travel the globe and live in a mansion?”

“I’m not tired of that, exactly. I’m tired of my parents controlling every aspect of my life. I just spent the majority of my sixteenth birthday locked in my room because I felt uncomfortable about their betrothing me to a spoiled, selfish brat, and I want to get away from them for awhile. I know that I cannot stay away forever, but I would very much appreciate it if you would let me stay away for a few days,” Hartley replied. To his surprise, Kid Flash looked sympathetic.

“Your parents sound about as much fun as mine. My parents yell at me all the time, too. They say I’m naive and complain about how I always have my head in the clouds and say that I need to grow up and face reality. My dad even threatened to send me to military school once. If I didn’t have Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris, I don’t know what I’d do. Go crazy, probably. I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad if they just yelled at me, but they yell at each other, too. I kind of thought that when they got divorced, the fighting would stop, but instead they just fight over the phone and try to use me as a go-between to deliver nasty messages. I never actually give them, but I still have to hear them all. Do your parents fight?”

“Not often,” James replied. Hartley rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Kid Flash said, sounding annoyed. James just laughed.

“You’re so fun to mess with, Baby Flash.” Kid Flash glared at him and turned back to Hartley.

“Well?” he asked. Hartley smiled weakly.

“They do not fight in public the way your parents do; that would be detrimental to their public image. Nor do they fight in front of me. However, my hearing is abnormally sharp, so I have heard them fighting behind closed doors, and as such, I know that they are not so fond of each other as they pretend to be. It is quite disconcerting,” Hartley admitted.

“Well, I totally get why you ran away, but I also think that you didn’t think out your plan all that well. The streets are really dangerous for teenagers, and you’ve probably never been outside your estate without chaperones and guards. You don’t know the first thing about defending yourself,” Kid Flash said. Hartley frowned. He knew that the boy had a very good point, but he also knew that he wasn’t going to voluntarily give up his freedom, which would only last for a few days in any case. It wasn’t as though he was planning to leave his home and his parents for good. He just wanted to prove that he was capable of making his own decisions and controlling at least some parts of his own life; and to experience what it was like to not be a Rathaway for a while.

“You’re too cautious, Baby Flash. I’m only seventeen, and I’ve been surviving on the streets just fine. If you keep your wits about you, running away isn’t that dangerous,” James said. Kid Flash shook his head.

“Trickster, you grew up in the circus, so you’re used to traveling and taking calculated risks. Your IQ is practically in the genius range-I mean, you invented shoes that let you walk on air at 13- and you’re also armed with your stupid trick gadgets. You’re way more capable of taking care of yourself than the average teenager, if you even actually are one,” he said.

“Now, Baby Flash, if you can be a pint-sized superhero at eight, I can be a supervillain at seventeen. There’s no reason for you to assume I’m lying about my age,” James replied condescendingly. Kid Flash scowled.

“I’m twelve, not eight!” he exclaimed petulantly.

“Whatever. Eight or twelve, you’re still not even a teenager, so my point stands.” Hartley stared at the boy. He was only twelve?

“Doesn’t the Flash fight gangsters?” he asked.

“Yeah. Duh,” Kid Flash replied. (There were few things more insulting than having one’s intelligence called into question by a twelve-year-old in red pajamas.)

“Do you help him with that?”

“Of course! Why?”

“Because I am curious as to why in the world, if you are only twelve, the Flash allows you to fight heavily armed gang members. Isn’t that some form of child endangerment?”

“I have super speed, Hartley. No gangster could hit me. Besides, if Flash didn’t allow me to fight them, I’d just sneak out and do it on my own. I’m not gonna let being a kid stop me from taking down the bad guys!” Kid Flash replied. Hartley couldn’t help smiling. The boy’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

“Okay, so now that you know why I’m a superhero, can we get back to the subject of how it’s a bad idea for you to run away from home?”

“I’m not running away from home. “Running away” implies that I am not coming back. I fully intend to return home. I just want to be able to live like a normal person for a few days before I go back to my life as the heir to the Rathaway empire for good,” Hartley replied. Kid Flash looked conflicted for a few seconds, and then he beamed.

“I want to keep you safe, and you want to be a normal kid for a day. So how about you and I, and Trickster, I guess, tour the city together? I can make sure that you don’t get attacked by someone and make sure that Trickster behaves himself, and you can do whatever it is that you want to do,” he said. Hartley frowned slightly. On the one hand, Kid Flash was cute and fairly amusing, and his idea had merit, but, on the other hand, his idea of independence definitely did not involve being chaperoned by a twelve-year-old. Before he could respond, however, James responded for him.

“Sorry, Baby Flash. You can’t come with us. I know that you wanna play with the big kids, but we’ll be staying out way past your bedtime,” he said. Kid Flash just smiled wider.

“Well, if I can’t come with you, I’ll have to take you back home and take the Trickster to jail,” he said. Hartley and James exchanged a look.

“All right, all right, you win,” James said quickly.

“Great! So where are we going?” Kid Flash asked.

“Somewhere my parents would never want me to go,” Hartley replied firmly.

“So, your kitchen?” James asked.

“No, not my kitchen,” Hartley said wearily. While it was true that his parents would probably have a fit if he went to the kitchen where the servants worked, he wanted to stay as far away from the Rathaway estate as possible.

“Your parents don’t allow you in the kitchen?” Kid Flash asked, obviously confused.

“Your parents let you in the kitchen?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t they?” Before Hartley could answer the question, James butted in again, something which was becoming rather irritating.

“Let me explain things to you, Baby Flash. You see, Hartley’s parents are obnoxiously wealthy, so they don’t make food for themselves. Instead, they hire people to cook for them, and, being rich snobs, they would never want their precious heir to interact with their servants and possibly-horror of horrors!-start to sympathise with them. Therefore, in order to prevent him talking to them in any meaningful way, they’ve forbidden him from going there,” he said.

“James, I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself,” Hartley said.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” Hartley sighed wearily.

“Yes, you are,” he said quietly. Maybe James’ claims of being a master con artist were less exaggerated than he had thought. Mentally speaking, the self-proclaimed supervillain was running rings around both him and Kid Flash.

“The more I hear about your parents, the more I understand why you wanted to run away. Are they really that full of themselves?” Kid Flash asked, apparently stunned.

“Yes, they are. Although, to be extremely fair to them, I really don’t know if they’re any worse than anyone else in high society. From what I’ve seen at my parents’ soirees, arrogance and a lack of basic human decency towards the hired help are endemic amongst the extremely wealthy. And I am not running away,” Hartley replied quietly.

“Endemic?” Kid Flash asked, sounding confused.

“Very common,” Hartley emended. He’d forgotten that the person to whom he was speaking was a twelve-year-old who had been denied the advantage of what his father called a classical education, which, as far as Hartley could tell, mainly meant learning how to speak and read Spanish, French, German, Italian, Mandarian Chinese, Latin, and Japanese, how to travel, how to ride horses, and how to become a pretentious snob.

“Oh. Yuck,” Kid Flash replied.

"We could go to Hawaii," James suggested.

"I've already been there. Um, four times," Hartley said.

"I haven't," James replied.

"Trickster, the only reason you're even getting to come along is because I want to keep an eye on you for the Flash. If Hartley doesn't want to go to Hawaii, then we're not going to Hawaii," Kid Flash said.

"Spoilsport. How about Las Vegas?"

"No way. Uncle Ba-I mean, the Flash, whose secret identity I definitely don't know- says that Las Vegas isn't appropriate for kids," Kid Flash replied.

"Besides, I've already been there, too. Twice," Hartley added.

"You two are tough customers. All right, how about England? We could ride that giant Ferris Wheel and visit Buckingham Palace and see that place where people's heads got chopped off!"

"I've-" Hartley began.

"You've already been there. I know! How many times, Richy Rich?" James snapped. Hartley flushed.

"Um, six," he mumbled.

"Be quiet and let Hartley decide, Trickster!" Kid Flash exclaimed.

"Okay, okay, I'll let Richy Rich decide for himself. You don't have to bite my head off," James replied. He fell silent, and Hartley made his decision.

"Could you maybe take me to a park?" Hartley asked.

"A park?" Kid Flash and James echoed.

"Yes. I...I want to see what it's like to be a normal kid, and from what I've seen on TV, that's what normal kids do. Besides, my parents would never let me go to a park that normal kids use, so it fulfills my desire to go somewhere that my parents don't want me to go too," Hartley replied.

"Okay. One park, coming up!" Kid Flash exclaimed, and before Hartley could even blink, he, James, and Kid Flash were standing near a playground, one that was located in, if the sign was to be trusted, "Jay Garrick Park". Hartley expected James to start complaining about going to a park rather than Las Vegas, but instead he beamed and made a beeline for the monkey bars. Kid Flash smiled, too...and was immediately swamped by small children.

"Kid Flash!"

"Can I have your autograph?"

"How fast can you really run?"

"Is the Flash here?"

"Who's your friend?"

"Is he a superhero, too?" Kid Flash's grin widened.

"Hi, kids! I'm gonna answer your questions one at a time, okay?"

"Okay!" the children chorused.

"First, yes, you can all have my autograph." Less than five seconds later, all the children were holding autographed papers.

"Second, I can run faster than the speed of light. Flash Fact: that's 299,792,458 meters per second! At least, that's what the Flash says. Third, Flash isn't here right now, but I promise that he will come here soon. Fourth, my friend's name is Hartley. He's not a superhero, but he is very nice." Hartley smiled and waved at the children.

"Hi, Hartley!"

"Hello. It's nice to meet you," Hartley replied, and he meant it. The children dispersed soon afterwards, but Hartley didn't mind. They all thought he was just an ordinary teenager. It was kind of nice to be anonymous.

"Want us to show you how to use the playground, Richy Rich?" James yelled from his seat on top of the monkey bars. Hartley nodded.

"Absolutely. If I'm going to be a normal kid for a day, I need to learn how to act like one."

Three hours later, Hartley had mastered everything on the playground except the monkey bars, learned the names, ages, favorite colors, and life stories of six kids, and been spun so fast on the tire swing that he had vomited (Kid Flash had been a little over enthusiastic). He could also honestly say that he’d never had more fun in his life.

“I’m sorry for making you vomit,” Kid Flash said. Hartley smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve always hated this suit, anyways. It itches like you wouldn’t believe,” he said. Then his stomach growled, and he blushed.

“I guess I’m a little hungry.” James, who had been doing an extremely painful-looking

exercise routine on the bar the swings were attached to, dropped to the ground, walked over to them, and grinned.

“Me, too, Richie Rich. Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Hartley replied. He knew that neither James nor Kid Flash was likely to be

able to afford the restaurants he usually went to with his parents, and he had never tried fast food, so he didn’t know what might be to his tastes.

“I know a great Italian place,” James suggested. Kid Flash frowned at him.

“I don’t have enough money for a sit-down restaurant, and I don’t trust you enough to

believe that you wouldn’t spend stolen money,” he said. James just grinned wider.

“Money won’t be a problem, Baby Flash. My Zia-that is, my Aunt- Caternia owns the

restaurant, and she nevers charges famiglia,” he said.

“I do like Italian food,” Hartley added quietly. Kid Flash frowned.

“Well, if you’re sure….all right, give me the directions,” he said. James complied, and a

few seconds later, they were standing in front of a small but homey-looking restaurant, with a sign that read “Famiglia, Amici, e Buon Cibo”. They walked inside, and, sure enough, a woman rushed from what appeared to be the kitchen and gave James an enormous hug.

“Giovanni! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! How are your cara madre and mio

fratello Alessandro?” she asked.

“Madre and Padre are doing well. Dad still talks about how much he misses his favorite

sister, but they’re glad that your business has been doing well,” James replied. His aunt beamed.

“Giovanni?” Hartley asked.

“Long story,” James replied.

“So, who are your friends, il mio piccolo piantagrane?” Hartley wasn’t surprised that

James had gotten a nickname like “little troublemaker”. He’d only known him for about 15 hours, and he’d proven capable of causing more trouble than anyone Hartley had ever met.

“The kid in the suit is named Hartley, and the boy in the red PJs is Kid Flash. Hartley, Kid

Flash, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my Zia Caternia,” James replied.

“Hi,” Kid Flash said.

“Chao,” Hartley added, glad that his lessons in Italian were proving useful for something.

“Chao, ragazzi. It’s very nice to meet you both. Are you three here for food?” James’ aunt

asked.

“Yes,” James replied. His aunt grinned again, and she led them to a table.

“This way, this way. Siediti! Rendetevi comodi-make yourselves comfortable! A waitress

will be out for you shortly,” she said. A few minutes later, a waitress promptly arrived, handed them their menus, and took their drink orders.

“I like your aunt,” Hartley said to James as he leafed through the menu.

“I like her, too. It’s too bad she has such a...a…”

“Scoundrel? Crook? Swindler? Trickster?” James suggested.

“Yeah, all of those-for a nephew,” Kid Flash said.

“Do me a favor and keep that quiet, okay? It would break her heart if she found out,”

James replied. Kid Flash nodded.

“If she’s managed not to find out by now, I’m not going to hurt her by telling her. She’s

really nice,” he said.

“Thanks, Baby Flash,” James replied, actually sounding sincere. A few minutes later, the

the waitress returned with their drinks and took their orders, Hartley deliberately going for one of the cheapest items on the menu. No matter who was paying for it, he didn’t want to cause them any financial strain. Twenty minutes of small talk, most of it revolving around teaching some Italian to Kid Flash, later, the food arrived. The three promptly dug in, and Hartley was pleased to learn that James was right-the food was delicious. As soon as they were finished eating, James’ aunt came to their table.

“Did you like the food?” she asked.

“Of course, Zia Catalina. You’re the best cook this side of Italy,” James replied, and Hartley and Kid Flash nodded their agreement. His aunt grinned.

“I’m so happy you enjoyed it! No cost for my nipote and his friends, of course,” she said.

“Are you sure, ma’am? I’ve got enough money to pay for it,” Kid Flash said.

“Grazie per l’offerta, but I’m quite sure I don’t want your money, piccolo. Making good

food for my famiglia and our friends is reward enough for me,” James’ aunt replied.

“Thanks, Zia Catalina.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Kid Flash said.

“Grazie, signora,” Hartley added.

“Prego. Addio, ragazzi. Stay safe!”

“Bye, Zia Catalina!” James exclaimed. He gave his aunt one last hug, and then he, Hartley,

and Kid Flash left the restaurant...only for them to be approached by two grown men as soon as they were out of sight of the building. Kid Flash scowled, and James looked very annoyed. Hartley, for his part, felt more than a little nervous. Who were these men? One looked like he could be a movie star, with thick, wavy brown hair and broad shoulders, while the other, although tall, was also stocky and homely, and was wearing a strange set of blue sunglasses on his head.

“Hey, Trickster. Where’ve you been?” Movie Star asked casually. Hartley noticed that he

was holding a cigarette in one of his hands.

“Oh, you know...playing with toys, plotting new tricks, giving my airwalkers a good

workout...the usual,” James replied, equally casually. Movie Star pulled a lighter out of his pants pocket, lit up his cigarette, put it to his lips, and then blew out a puff of smoke.

“And what is Kid Flash doing with you, exactly?” This question, a much more abrasive

one, came from Blue Sunglasses.

“Knock, knock,” James replied. Blue Sunglasses swore, and Hartley and Kid Flash both

winced. Movie Star blew another puff of smoke.

“This ain’t the time for your stupid antics, Trickster!”

“Knock, knock!” James repeated.

“Fine. Who’s. There,” Blue Sunglasses replied flatly.

“Nonya,” James said.

“Nonya who?” Blue Sunglasses asked, clearly very irritated.

“Nonya business!” James exclaimed. Then he cracked up laughing. Blue Sunglasses glared

at him, and Hartley started backing away. This guy seemed like someone no one should want to cross; similar to his father, but with worse clothes.

“Easy, Len. No need to blow this out of proportion. Trickster does weird stuff all the time.

Him running around the city with Kid Flash for no reason is probably the least weird thing he’s done since we’ve met him,” Movie Star said calmly. Blue Sunglasses, apparently named “Len”, growled.

“It’s not the “weird” part that bothers me, Scudder. It’s the part where he’s runnin’ around

with the sidekick of our enemy! You think the Flash don’t keep track of where his sidekick is?” he exclaimed. Hartley turned to James and Kid Flash.

“Who are these two?” James sighed, and Kid Flash frowned.

“Len Snart and Sam Scudder. They're the biggest killjoys I know,” James replied.

“And they’re also Captain Cold and the Mirror Master!”

“You actually are a supervillain?” Hartley asked James. True, James was clearly far too

smart for anyone else’s good, and he had all of the fashion sense of a clown, but the fact that he was apparently on a first-name basis with two men as infamous as Captain Cold and the Mirror Master was the first definitive evidence Hartley had that James hadn’t been exaggerating his own notoriety.

“Yeah. Baby Flash and I both already told you that, Richie Rich,” James replied.

“I thought you were exaggerating.”

“Nope!”

“Honestly, I’m less curious as to why Trickster is hanging out with Kid Flash and more

curious as to who the third kid is,” Movie Star, who was apparently the Mirror Master, said.

“You’ve got a point, Scudder. That kid definitely ain’t from around here,” Captain Cold

replied. The Mirror Master blew another puff of smoke.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asked.

“H-Hartley.” Hartley hated to admit it, but he kind of wanted to go home now. Captain

Cold snorted.

“Hartley? What kinda name is “Hartley”?” he asked.

“I was named after my grandfather...because my father hates me. At least, that’s the only

explanation I can think of for why he gave me such an awful name,” Hartley replied. Captain Cold actually smiled (although it kind of looked like a smirk).

“I can sympathize, kid. I got stuck with the handle “Leonard Snart”, so I get how much it

sucks to have a cruddy name,” he said. At this point, Captain Cold and the Mirror Master were joined by a third man. This one was tall and lanky, with a mop of black hair, and looked as though he might be of Hispanic descent. He was also wearing a jacket over top of a green t-shirt. Kid Flash tensed up further, prompting Hartley to do the same. If Kid Flash recognized him, then the man was probably not good news.

“Why is the Trickster hanging out with Kid Flash?” the man asked. His voice was nasally

and a tad high-pitched for a fully-grown man.

“It’s the Trickster. Why does he do anything?” the Mirror Master replied.

“Point taken. But I don’t like having Kid Flash around. He’s a superhero magnet.” The man pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket.

“Look guys, I’ve got things under control. As long as Hartley here is with me, Kid Flash isn’t gonna be calling in any other superheroes,” James said.

“How do you know?” Captain Cold barked.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, Captain. Let’s just say that for once we have a common interest,” James replied. At this, the lanky man seemed to relax.

“You got a light, Sam?” he asked.

“Sure,” the Mirror Master replied. He tossed his lighter to the lanky man, who promptly lit his cigarette and started smoking. Hartley coughed. He hated cigarette smoke. Although it was generally frowned upon by his parents’ friends, there were still a few older men who were powerful enough to get away with smoking at gatherings, and he had never enjoyed having to talk to them for precisely this reason.

“Who’s this?” he asked, pointing at the lanky man.

“Mark Mardon,” James replied.

“The Weather Wizard,” Kid Flash added. Hartley sighed. Of course. Another supervillain. That being said, if he survived this, he would have definite proof that he could handle himself without supervision, so maybe there was a silver lining to the situation.

“Impressed? You should be,” the Weather Wizard said. James just shook his head and smiled.

“Mark acts like he’s hot stuff, but he’s not nearly as cool as he thinks he is,” he whispered to Hartley. Hartley wasn’t sure exactly how to react to that.

“Can you actually create tornadoes?” The newspapers claimed that the Weather Wizard was capable of doing something like that, but Hartley wasn’t sure how much of that claim was based in fact and how much was exaggeration for the sake of selling papers.

“Of course. You wanna see?” the Weather Wizard replied.

“NO!” Kid Flash and Captain Cold exclaimed in unison.

“Fine. I’ll just make a rain cloud instead,” the Weather Wizard said. He pulled out what appeared to be a long metal rod, waved it, and, astonishingly, it immediately started to rain in spite of the fact that the sky had been completely blue before he’d waved the wand. He then waved the wand again, and the rain immediately stopped.

“Neat trick Mardon has, huh?” Mirror Master asked.

“Quite,” Hartley replied, still mildly stunned by what he’d just witnessed.

“You should see what I can do with my mirror tech some time.”

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you guys, but me, Baby Flash, and Richie Rich-” James began.

“Wait a minute. You said your name was Hartley. You wouldn’t happen to be Hartley Rathaway, would you?” Captain Cold asked. James, Hartley, and Kid Flash all froze nervously. The last thing Hartley wanted was for three adult supervillains to know that he was the heir to the most successful publishing company in the world, but he didn’t know how else James could explain the nickname he’d given to him. Before Hartley could react, Captain Cold pulled out his cold gun and froze Kid Flash to the ground.

“Well, well, well. I ain’t got a clue how you managed it, Trickster, but you managed to find the son of the only billionaire in Central City. What’s he doing away from home?” Cold asked.

“I...I ran away. Kind of,” Hartley replied.

“You ran away from a mansion? What kind of moron runs away from a mansion?”

“I wasn’t running away from the mansion. I was running away from my parents. They control everything about my life, and I’m sick of not being able to make my own choices,” Hartley replied.

“They also lock him in his room when he disagrees with the choices they make for him. They may be richer than Croesus, but they don’t sound like much fun,” James added.

“In that case, maybe he can help us out. If we pretend we kidnapped him, I bet his folks would pony up a lot of money to get him back,” the Weather Wizard said.

“And it would bring the Flash and the police down on our heads. No go,” Captain Cold replied. Hartley felt relieved. The last thing he wanted was to be sort-of kidnapped.

“Besides, I don’t want to go back home yet,” Hartley added, hoping that either James or Kid Flash would be able to come up with a way to enable them to escape this situation.

“Cold’s right, Mardon. Kidnapping’s too risky,” Mirror Master said.

“Are you guys crazy? The kid’s a gold mine! Isn’t that worth a little risk?” the Weather Wizard asked.

“‘The kid’ can hear you, and has no particular desire to be used as a tool in a money-making scheme. As much as I’d love to see my parents lose some money, I’m not going to be returned to their control just so you can make a profit...especially since it would put James in danger of getting in trouble,” Hartley said, sounding braver than he felt.

“Besides, I took Hartley out to give him some fun, not to have you use him in a kidnapping scheme, Marky-Mark,” James added.

“No kidnapping, Mark. That’s final,” Captain Cold barked.

“Okay, okay. It was just a suggestion,” the Weather Wizard muttered.

“See you around, James,” the Mirror Master said. With that, he, the Weather Wizard, and Captain Cold walked off, and James, Hartley, and Kid Flash all breathed a sigh of relief. Hartley never wanted to meet James’ friends again.

After the three supervillains walked away, James smiled sheepishly as Kid Flash broke the ice that Captain Cold had encased his legs in .

“Well, that was interesting,” he said.

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” Hartley replied, still stunned by the fact that he’d met three of the most infamous criminals in Central City.

“Sorry about those killjoys showing up. If I’d known my coworkers were around here, I would’ve suggested someplace else for lunch. I didn’t want them messing around with my fun any more than you and Baby Flash wanted to meet them,” James said. Kid Flash frowned.

“How can you be so calm about this? Your ‘coworkers’ could’ve put Hartley in danger!” he exclaimed. James laughed.

“Richie Rich? In danger? From those stick-in-the-muds? You’ve gotta be kidding, Baby Flash! Sam and Len would never hurt a kid!” he exclaimed.

“The Weather Wizard wanted to kidnap him!”

“No, he didn’t. He just wanted to pretend he had to get money from his parents. That’s totally different. You don’t think I’d work with someone who’d hurt kids, do you?”

“Maybe not deliberately-but Captain Cold? Weather Wizard? The Mirror Master? Those guys are bad news, Trickster. If they thought they could get money from hurting a kid without getting caught, they might do it,” Kid Flash said.

“Look, Baby Flash. I’m an excellent con artist-and that means I’m also an expert at reading people. If those guys were the type to hurt kids, I’d know. They aren’t dangerous-at least, no more dangerous than I am,” James insisted.

“In speaking of “kids”, do your...friends...know that you’re a kid?” Hartley asked.

“As far as Len’s concerned, I’m 19. The first time we worked together, he said that he thought I looked really young, and that he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t working with a kid. So I lied and said that I was an adult to make sure that he didn’t use it as an excuse to chase me off and take all the loot for himself. The other guys...I dunno. I assume they think I’m an adult, but I don’t really know. Either way, I’m not about to tell them otherwise,” James replied.

“Wait… you really are 17?”” Kid Flash asked.

“Yes. Why?” James asked.

“Because your records say you’re 19. It’s why you went to jail and not to juvie when the Flash arrested you last year,” Kid Flash replied. James looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled.

“Oh, that! I know why that happened. It’s a funny story, really-fitting of the Trickster, if I do say so myself. You see, because I grew up in a circus, my family moved around a lot, and I was born on the road. My parents called the records office to get my birth certificate, and we didn’t realize until years later that somebody had printed the month and the year wrong and had me down as being born two years and four months before I actually was. Since I was being homeschooled anyway, there wasn’t a big impetus for us to change it, so I guess we must’ve just never actually gotten around to getting it fixed.” James explained.

“You didn’t think it was strange that you were being tried as an adult at 16?” Kid Flash asked.

“Not really. I was calling myself a supervillain, after all. I figured they were trying me as an adult because of my airwalkers and my costume. I can’t believe it was because we forgot to fix my birth certificate. I tricked the legal system without even meaning to! That’s hilarious!” James exclaimed. Hartley stared at him in shock. If he had been arrested for something and then tried as an adult because of a mistake in his birth certificate, he would have been furious, but James seemed to find it amusing. He was never going to understand James. He was as just tricky to understand as his supervillain name implied he would be.

“This is awful! The Flash thinks you’re an adult! I’ve got to tell him about-” Kid Flash began. Suddenly, a red blur appeared in Hartley’s vision and solidified into someone Hartley had never expected to meet in person: the Flash himself!

“From what I’ve heard, there’s a lot you need to tell me about, Kid Flash. Let’s start with why you haven’t returned Hartley Rathaway to his parents yet. They’re worried sick about him.”

“Flash, I-” Kid Flash began.

“Aww, don’t blame Baby Flash. It wasn’t his fault,” James interrupted. Flash’s frown deepened.

“Trickster! Kidnapping is bad enough already, but if you’ve added brainwashing on top of it-” he said angrily. James just laughed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! All I said that it wasn’t Baby Flash’s fault. I never said it was mine.” “Trickster, you’re already in a serious amount of trouble. If you don’t want things to get worse, I would advise you to stop playing games.”

“Wait! Mr. Flash, it isn’t James’ fault or Kid Flash’s fault. It’s mine. James did break into my house, but it wasn’t to kidnap me. We ran into each other by accident, and I asked him to take me with him. I haven’t been kidnapped-I’m running away. Kind of,” Hartley said quickly. He didn’t want James or Kid Flash to get into trouble because of his choices.

“Running away? Why would-”

“Why would the son of the billionaire publishing magnates run away from home? Because my parents have planned out my entire life for me without ever once asking me if it’s what I want. Because they see me as defective because I was born deaf-”

“You were born deaf?” Flash and Kid Flash asked in unison.

“Yes. My parents couldn’t stand the thought of having a defective heir, so they paid billions of dollars to have me ‘fixed’...and they made sure that the news never caught wind of it. Even after they “fixed” me, though, they’ve made it clear that I’m still not good enough for them. They’ve picked my college, my major, my minor, and my future spouse without even asking me about it, and when I try to argue with them about it, my father locks me in my room and doesn’t let me out until I give in. I’m sick of being their son. I’m sick of only being loved because I’m their heir. And I’m sick of never being able to control my life! I ran away so I could get a taste of what it’s like to be a normal kid for once! All Trickster and Kid Flash did was help me do it,” Hartley explained.

“I was going to take him home when I found him, Flash, honest...but then he told me about his folks and how they’re never happy with him or each other and how they locked him in a closet on his birthday and how he just wanted to not be under their control for just one day. I...I just wanted to help him have fun,” Kid Flash added. Flash shook his head sadly.

“That explains a lot about the conversation I just had with your parents, Hartley. I thought the way they were talking about you as their heir seemed odd, but I just chalked it up to them being worried. But given what you’ve said, I can guess that it was really because they don’t care about you nearly as much as they care about what you mean for their future,” he said.

“Please don’t get mad at Kid Flash or James. Neither of them did anything bad to me. In fact, I’ve had more fun hanging out with them than I can remember having...ever,” Hartley said. He meant it, too. Despite only having known the other boys for less than a day, he already felt closer to them than he did to his own parents. The Flash gave James an odd look.

“While Hartley being a runaway does explain why you never asked for a ransom, it doesn’t explain why you decided to help him do it, nor why you continued to stick around after Kid Flash showed up. Why in the world didn’t you leave him? You weren’t making a profit off him,” he asked. A wide grin spread across James’ face.

“Because I like him. Duh. Just because I’m a supervillain doesn’t mean I can’t like someone and want to hang out with him, does it?” he replied.

“Why would an adult supervillain enjoy spending time with a sheltered teenage boy?”

“Two reasons. First, him being sheltered means he’s adorably naive, and I get a good laugh out of that. Second, I’m only a year older than Richie Rich here. There was a mix-up when my birth certificate was made, and it lists me as two years older than I actually am. My parents and I found that out a couple years back, and I guess we just never got around to fixing it. I wasn’t kidding when I told the court that I was a child at heart,” James replied. Flash’s mouth dropped open.

“You’re only seventeen?” he exclaimed.

“Chronologically, yes. Legally, no,” James replied.

“Mentally, definitely not,” Kid Flash muttered.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Hasn’t-Hit-Puberty.”

“I have too hit puberty!”

“Sure you have, Baby Flash. Sure you have.”

“Quiet!” Flash exclaimed. James and Kid Flash fell silent.

“Thank you. Why in the world didn’t you tell anyone that you were only 16 at your trial?” the Flash asked James.

“I thought they knew. I didn’t realize that we still hadn’t fixed my birth certificate until Baby Flash there told me that my record lists me as 19,” James replied.

“Is there anyone who can confirm your real age?” Flash asked.

“My parents, my nonna, my zii and zie, my cousins, the other people in the circus…” The Flash nodded and disappeared.

“Well, I don’t know what that was all about, but I think I’ll be leaving. It was great spending time with you two-especially you, Richie Rich. Don’t let your folks get you down, okay?”

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Away...before I get arrested for breaking and entering. It was nice to meet you, Hartley….and hey, maybe we’ll see each other again someday. Bye!” James replied, pulling something out of his pocket as he did so. Just as Kid Flash started to move on him, he threw the thing at the ground, and it exploded in a mass of colorful glitter, smoke, and streamers. By the time everything cleared up, the Trickster was long gone.

“Darn! He got away again! I’m never gonna be able to become a superhero at this rate. This is the second time today I’ve let a villain get away!” Kid Flash exclaimed. Hartley smiled at him.

“You’re only 12. I’m sure if you keep practicing, you’ll be at least as good as the Flash by the time you’re an adult,” he said.

“You think so?” Kid Flash asked hopefully.

“I know so. You’re already incredibly fast. With a little more experience, you’ll be a formidable opponent for anyone...even someone as tricky as James,” he said.

“And I’m sure someone as kind and smart as you are will find a way to break out from under your parents’ thumb,” Kid Flash replied. Hartley personally doubted that, but after the crazy day he’d been through...who knew what might happen next. Maybe he really would be able to become his own person instead of just his parents’ puppet.

“Thanks,” Hartley said. At this point, the Flash returned.

“All right, Trickster. Your legal age now matches your biological...where’s the Trickster?”

“He got away. I’m really sorry, Flash! I tried to stop him, but-”

“No need to apologize, Kid Flash. The Trickster may be younger than I ever dreamed, but he’s been able to outsmart even me before. The fact that he was able to trick you is nothing to be ashamed of. We’ll just have to track him down later. But first, let’s get Hartley home,” Flash said. Hartley sighed.

“I suppose I’ve had my day as a normal kid. You...you can take me home,” he said quietly. His parents were going to be furious with him for doing this, but getting to know Kid Flash and James would make it all worth it.

“Hartley, I may be taking you home, but I’m not going to abandon you. I’m contacting CPS as soon as possible. What your parents are doing to you is unacceptable,” Flash said.

“Thank you, sir,” Hartley replied. He knew that CPS would take one look at the mansion and his fine clothes and his tutors and dismiss any charges of child abuse out of hand, but he appreciated the thought anyway. Kid Flash handed him a sheet of paper.

“And here’s my phone number if you need someone to talk to,” he said.

“Thank you, Kid Flash,” Hartley replied. Again, he appreciated the thought, but it was pointless. His parents would never allow him to call someone they didn’t know...especially after the stunt he had just pulled. With that, there was a rush, and Hartley found himself in the sitting room of his parents’ mansion, facing his parents, both of whom looked very upset.

“I’ve found your prodigal son, Mr. and Mrs. Rathaway. I’d advise you to think about why he went missing. In my experience, happy children don’t run away from home,” Flash said.

“What do you mean? Our heir was kidnapped by a supervillain!” Hartley’s mother asked angrily.

“No, I wasn’t. I...I ran away with him,” Hartley replied quietly. He didn’t want his parents to become angry at the Flash and risk having them ruin the superhero’s reputation.

“You did what?” Hartley’s father exclaimed.

“Your son was unhappy enough at home that he chose to run away with a juvenile delinquent-your “supervillain” is only 17 years old-just so that he could have one day to make choices for himself. You and your wife should figure out why that is. And if I find out that either of you have laid a hand on him for this...I will make sure that you face justice for it,” the Flash said. With that, he ran out of the room and had disappeared from the estate entirely in the time it took to blink. Hartley’s father scowled.

“Go to your room, Hartley. We’ll talk more about this later,” he barked. Hartley sighed, but obeyed. Time to get used to being a puppet again. As he walked to his room, he could hear his parents fuming about “the nerve of that so-called hero”. As he entered his room, he shook his head wearily, stuck his hand in his pocket..and felt something. Curious, he pulled it out to discover what looked like a wadded up napkin. He unfolded it to find what looked like a computer chip...and a note from James. Dear Richie Rich: I told you that I don’t do mind control. I don’t. It’s not funny enough, and I’ve never been able to get the hang of it. But I think you can. You’ve had the best education money can buy, so I bet you’ll be able to figure out this mind-control doohickey the Mirror Master’s been trying to perfect. Maybe it’ll help you get some control over your life. Your friend, J.J. (the Trickster). Hartley was stunned. How had James gotten this into his pocket? And how could a mind control device help him get control over his life? Even discounting the dodgy ethics behind such an idea, how would he ever be able to use it? It was just ridiculous. He set the chip on the table near his bed, picked up his flute, and began to play. Music was probably the only thing he was ever going to be able to control.

FIN

#flash rogues #fanfic #pied piper #trickster #james jesse #kid flash #flash #barry allen #wally west #rachel and osgood rathaway #dc comics #@gorogues #@swashbuckler

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drkcnry67 · 3 years

Text

join me?

title: join me?

pairing: Jared x reader

rating: 18+

fluff: single parent AU

kink: shower sex

tags: shower sex, single parent x single nanny, vaginal penetration, climax, asking someone you know to become your partner in raising your child

summery: not telling

mentioning @sweetness47

created for @spnfluffbingo @spnkinkbingo

kink list fluff list

the following AD you had placed on all the job boards:

“if you are a Single parent in need of someone to move in to help look after your kids, clean, cook for you Im that person. obviously i can cook, clean, drive, shop for groceries you know the esentials. basically anything you would require of me i can accomplish. call me at xxx-xxx-xxxx, to discuss details. sincerely YN. PS im willing to relocate if needbe. thank you for reading this.”

just like that it was done, it was posted. now, all you had to do was wait. someone was bound to call eventually.

after 3 weeks you were about to re-post the ad, your phone rang. someone from san Antonio, as far as you were concerned you knew of no one who lived in that corner of the world.

you took a chance and answered the call.

YN: hello!

Jared: yes, im looking for YN

YN: thats me

Jared: perfect, my name is Jared Padalecki. i’m a single father to a 4 year old boy named Thomas. he’s my mess maker & i love him to bits. but balancing between work and parenting is alot harder than most people think. my wife had divorced me she felt like i didnt care enough about her or the foundation she built, so one night she walked out and i havent seen her since. so anyway i was looking through the ads for live in nanny when i came across yours. your ad drew me to it, im sorry if this sounds too forward but its been hard.

YN: not at all. so what are the terms of this job?

Jared: well, as we speak im just finishing the details of your flight to San Antonio which first of all i need your current location like where you are coming from and how much baggage you are bringing.

YN: thats very kind of you to book me a flight. im coming from San Francisco with 3 suitcases and 2 carry ons. most of it are small keepsakes and other sich clothing items i pick up along the way. but not a big deal i just dont have a permenant home to leave anything at. so if you dont mind me coming with all my little nik naks and figurines...

Jared chuckled in the background before he spoke.

Jared: girl, i think we can deal with that. ill buy some wall shelves and a special case for your statues and figures, with enough room that should you want more you can get more. There will be a vehicle you can use to transport my son to school and do errands and stuff like that, there will be a spare room included for you with your own bathroom. The shopping can be done by you after you drop my son off to school on a day of your choosing. If you like all that your duties do not include yard maintenence. You are free to take my son out for shopping trips as well, you get a shared card to my all expense account to do all your spending for the house and for yourself. It goes straight to my account it's all good. I want your time here to be awesome.

YN: this is my cell, please tell me you have some good news about my flight details.

Jared: check your texts.

You check your messages before you go back to the call.

YN: thats a good flight, so what kind of plans are for when i get there.

Jared: well if you want we can go get the groceries when you arrive, after we leave the airport. then we can go for lunch and get you a few pretty things. sign some bank papers to put your name in my accounts.

Yn: that sounds good, I've just sent notice to my landlord, I'm just packing up some of my figures now. I'm gonna have to get my license and stuff switched over to Texas state license but I'm excited for this.

Jared: i know as am i its been a while since we had any type of female presence in the house. we havent any such thing, but tomorrow that all changes. i know that you are gonna bring a light into our lives that hasnt been here in well ever.

YN: glad i can help, now lets see whats the day tomorrow yields.

Jared: i am so excited, so is my son. he keeps asking when you are gonna be here. but it is gonna be a happy day tomorrow. i know that this is gonna sound strange, but i hope your the one that can save me.

you heard his tone change instantly, you felt the power coming from it. you felt the wet in your panties. you were not okay in the slightest. but you felt amazing at the same time.

YN: i guess ill let you go. ill shoot you a text when i get to the airport. cause i want to help you. i want to be the one to save you.

neither of you knew what the hell just happened, neither of you would remember what was said, at the end of it neither of you would be able to state the words of the other. it will remain that way till a different day in the near off future.

Jared: ill see you tomorrow... YN.

YN: jared.

the call ended, it was the moment when you felt like you could breathe again. the moment when you felt as though it would be your last. the moment when you felt like you were on cloud 9.

you went to the cornerstore to get a few travel items. a few other things as well. a lot of times before you travel you do this kind of big shop, but this time was not like most times. Jared was providing everything for you, you had to bring you and what you currently owned, as well as your documents and stuff like that.

after cleaning most of what you could in the apartment, you set your alarm and went to bed. you woke up to your 6:00am alarm. it was a long time but you were also a good half hour to the airport. you wanted plenty of time for check in and travel distance.

finishing packing, leaving your keys to the apartment in the hands of your landlord who helped you bring your bags out the front door. she wished you a safe trip and to call if you were ever in the area again.

you brought your bags to the cab and got in. you told the driver to take you to the airport. upon arrival at the airport, the cab driver helped you load your bags onto a cart and drove off. you pushed the cart into the airport, went to the check in desk.

check in lady: may i see your ticket and passport please?

You hand over your ticket and passsport. the lady scans your ticket and hands both your passport and ticket back to you.

check in lady: alright your good to go, the gift shop is open if you want to stop there, its just on your left passed security.

Yn: do I give you my suitcases! Well at least the ones that aren't carry ons.

Check in lady ushers for a security guard to come round to take the 3 suitcases from you. To which you smile and thank them and head off to go through security.

Security guard: please put all your bags in a bin, your jacket and shoes as well as your jewelry in this bin and then you can stand on this square we will bring you through and go from there.

you did as asked. you complied you went to stand on the square, were waved through, the thing didnt beep but you were still patted down and then given your stuff back. sent on your merry way, you were happily walking through the airport again.

you went to the gift shop, you were buying a few puzzle books to keep you entertained on the flight. as well as a dress off the rack and some playing cards (one of each type), and some statues. these ones were small but made you smile.

you paid for everything and then went to the bathroom to change and organize your bags. you come out of the bathroom, your hair is up in a ponytail. you go take a seat holding your passport and ticket.

after half hour of sitting there, your flight number was called. You pulled out your phone, texting Jared.

Yn (by text): morning, I am about to board my flight

Jared (by text): morning, I hope you have a safe flight, Thom and i cant wait to see you. Thom made you a sign we will be holding it, you have my word and honor that we will be good, we will all get along quite good.

YN (by text): of course, as do i. i look forward to getting to San Antonio and beginning a new life. the pre flight is starting ill let you know when i land.

Jared (by text): have a safe flight. see you in a few hours. i gotta bathe the kiddo.

The pre flight took a bit longer than you thought it would, but Jared's message was one you ended up saving as a screenshot. You listened to your music when the flight attendant said we were free to use the screens ahead of us and whatever else.

You even did some puzzle books and wrote in your journal.

You were nervous, of course you were nervous. This was the first time you were gonna meet a single dad and a son. Thoughts of what they might look like floated through your mind. The thoughts of the life you were stepping into were beyond what your mind could conjour.

But the way he spoke to you said something about saving you, made you wonder if something more was happening to him.

Something maybe in his past that might be coming after him now. There was a darkness in his voice that you couldn't shake.

But you shoke it off, you were not gonna let these thoughts consume you. You waited for the hours to pass, and they did rather quickly.

For what was once 30 mins that had passed, became an hour and a half. You were almost there. 8 am quickly turned into 1030am there was still half hour to go.

This was it the landing checks the whole pack up whatever you took out, close the trays un recline your seats, take out and shut off your music speech came quickly. You put away the books and things, you held your phone in one hand using the other to get up form your seat. You followed the people out of the plane.

You walked out onto the concourse and made sure you were lookin good before you stepped onto the escalator.

Jared was watching, but when his eyes landed on you coming toward him he smiled. He couldn't help himself. A little voice in his head told him not to smile, but to jump you instead. Jared ignored that voice for he didn't want to do anything harmful with Thom around. Even then he wouldn't. he instead watched you walk toward him.

Jared: YN.

YN: you must be Jared. It is a pleasure to meet you.

You both shake hands but a spark flows between both of your hands. Before you place your bags on the ground and look at Thom.

YN: you must be the little cutie. Did you make this sign all by yourself?

Thom nods and gives you a hug which you graciously return. You were feeling happy.

Jared: i think we should go wait by the luggage bay so we can grab your luggage. Then we can head off for lunch and shopping and paper filling.

YN: the luggage should have started coming out by now anyway right?

Jared: possibly. But i want to hear more about you, your adventures and can i just say that dress is delectable.

There it was again, that deep dark tone to his voice. He now held his hand out for your bags as Thom was urging for you to carry him. Jared carried your carry ons, you carried Thom who just smiled happily.

Jared: ive never seen Thom take kindly to anyone before. This is gonna work out just fine.

YN: thom is so sweet, i look forward to working with him on a daily basis. I also look forward to helping you with the house.

You smiled as thom came up to you and sat in your lap. Jared just watched amazed by your skill with kids.

As the luggage came round you pointed out your suitcases to Jared who grabbed them placing them on the cart.

You held thom who just contently hugged you. He nestled himself against the crook of your neck, soft snores filled yours and Jared's ears shortly after.

Jared: he barely slept last night he was too excited. I'm not surprised that he is sleeping now.

Jared says as you all walk to the car, Jared with the luggage cart, you holding thom. You gently placed thom in the car, you watch Jared place the luggage in the trunk.

Jared: and you are the miracle worker, he is asleep. He will sleep till we wake him for lunch. He will also hopefully sleep through the bank and licencing appointments.

Before he could say another word you went over and gave him a kiss to his cheek. The air between you both was growing thin.

This would have been your first kiss if not for the fact that jared’s watch went off.

Jared: we have to be at the bank in half an hour. Which is perfect but first i want to try something. Just dont move.

You didnt move you stood there as Jared slid his hand around your waist. And placed a soft kiss to your neck. Then moved to whisper in your ear.

Jared: a little bit of food for thought. The darkness is growing inside me and i swear i will hold it back as long as i can. But you need to understand you are the only one who can stop the darkness.

You went round to your side of the vehicle. Feeling a little flustered. Jared was behind you, you turned to see him, his eyes starring at you. His hand on your own, you feel a spark, you feel that same spark that you both had felt back in the airport, when you first met.

The ride to the bank was good, you and jared talked and went over a list for shopping and made a list of things to do when you arrived to Jared’s home. You were done the bank & licensing appointments.

Deciding that it would be easier pick up take out for lunch as Thom was still sleeping. Like he was out like a light. You guys were able to quickly go in follow the list and get everything on the list. Finally on the road with lunch and heading home to Jareds.

YN: so i guess i will need to set up some stuff and unpack.

Jared: ill even help you set up and build the shelving and things. Believe me your suite is gonna be your style when we are through with it. We are almost there. Then we will get you settled. And its still early in the day.

YN: lets hope that we can get a majority of this done before thom wakes up.

Jared: or at least un pack the car or have the lawn care people help with that as well. Ill just pay them extra for it.

Within a few moments after that you guys pull dup to a gate, where Jared used a key card to open it.

Jared: welcome to your new home YN!

From that point in the day you and Jared and thom spent it getting acquainted, you did some schooling with thom, jaredd helped you set up your suite, Jared and you celebrated with a glass of wine each before bed from then on. More little moments were stollen like the one that happened in the airport.

Something worse would be a drift in the near future. you didnt know what but you had a feeling that something would come to light that you would never expect in a million years.

~its now been 8 months and 12 days since you came to live with Jared and Thom. you settled in quite nicely. you drove back and forth to get thom to and from school, you cooked, cleaned and you happily did all the laundry. now we start our story again on the last day of school, with you just having picked up Thom from school and are in the car driving back home~

you had just gotten on the freeway Thom had passed out a while back for his afternoon nap. you were just happy for a small moment of peace and quiet. but your bluetooth came through the car at a volume that thankfully didnt wake Thom.

you saw it was Jared so obviously you answered.

Jared: hey hows it going?

Yn: good, thom is having a nap, im just on the freeway. how was work?

Jared: good, i couldnt wait for the day to be over. i have a surprise for you.

YN: for me or for me and thom or for all 3 of us

Jared: call it a family surprise.

YN: wait im part of the family. none of my jobs previously had ever considered me part of the family. its nice to finally be included in an actual family.

you could hear jared chuckle before he continued to speak.

Jared: i know you are new to the whole permenant family thing, and we are always gonna have a home here for you. but i want to celebrate the start of summer with a tradition.

YN: something new or something old?

Jared: a new tradition one that starts as soon as you guys get home...

YN: and will i need to pack a bag?

Jared: yes although i had my assistant at work go out and buy you a few new things for this trip today, so how long till you guys get home...

suddenly thom pipes up from the background.

thom: hi daddy.

Jared: hey little man, ive got a surprise for you when you and YN get home.

YN: we will see you in 10 minutes jared.

Jared: see you in the driveway

the call ended and you handed thom a sucker from your center console. he smiled and giggled all the rest of the way home. you pulled into the driveway parking in your normal spot.

Jared comes round to bring thom out first, after spinning him around before setting him down on the ground, he comes round to your side. he opens the door and extends his hand to you.

he helps you out of the car, and walks you to the door. where you all enter before Jared send thom up to his room to get ready. guess he had told thom the secret before he told you, but you were now standing in the living room with Jared who turns to you.

YN: what is the big surprise, i assume you told Thom and thats why he ran upstairs all excited.

Jared: i bought us a vacation house about 2 months ago. it is all season, and we get to go there and spend these next 6 weeks there. its in canyon lake about 2 hours by car. thom will probably sleep at least part of the way there. but YN i want you to know that i have a secret one that has me flustered enough to internally keep it from you for he is the glue that holds us together. but i wonder if perhaps we as in us 2 have a few things we can be together.

before you could respond Jared leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to your lips, for those 2 seconds it was like heaven had shot you with an arrow.

Jared pulled back and began to walk toward the kitchen to pack some trip snacks and drinks. but before leaving you alone in the living room he spoke.

Jared: ill leave you with that food for thought for it will be something to definately make conversation about later.

That kiss, your only real first kiss. Made you extremely excited. But the drive the 2 hour drive had you all hot and bothered. you went to pack your stuff in your bag. well at least thats what you thought, when you got to your room, you saw a suitcase, one filled with yours and Jareds stuff. maybe you guys were traveling light or there was already stuff out there for you guys.

you packed your journals, some games and a few books and of course a deck of cards in your backpack. you wheeled the suitcase out of the suite while carrying the backpack. then you went back in to put your hair back.

you heard someone calling your name. you answered the call and heard footsteps coming to your room. you turned to see Jared standing there, like nothing had happened downstairs.

Jared: are we almost ready to go?

YN: almost. just gonna get into something a bit more vacay less public appearance. meet you down in 2...

Jared: wear something sexy. i guarantee that you will be the hottest thing in the car. and you can pick the music.

you grabbed something out of the closet and took it into the bathroom. you came out to see Jared standing not facing you. till you would speak woulkd be when he would know you were there.

YN: does that mean we are bluetoothing it all the way there.

Jared: got the wireless charging pad installed and all ready to go. plus i hooked your phone to the bluetooth already. now when you are ready we will head out.

YN: i know. jared are we gonna discuss what happened between us downstairs?

Jared: that kind of talk is better suited for vacation.

thom is waiting by the door, you and jared bring down the last of the stuff. thom just as excited about this vacation as any little child should be. everything was loaded in the car, you went to lock the house and set the alarm. but before setting the alarm, you said the one word that you were sure might confirm your suspicions.

YN: christo!

the cross on the wall near by turned upside down. you finished setting the alarm after salting the doors and windows. only hoping that this would be easy, but now you were certain that you had figured out the darkness that Jared kept mentioning.

you went to the car, sitting down you nodded at Jared to start driving. and it was declared right then and there that you all were officially on vacation. Thom sat quietly and eventually passed out. your music playing in the background, Jared realizing that Thom had fallen asleep moved his hand to rest on your thigh.

this made you look at him, the darkness in his eyes faded when you placed your hand on his. the darkness that starred at you, the way his hand tightened on your thigh. you were the luckiest girl in the world. you hoped that this vacay would yield the answers you hoped you didnt need.

over the last little while you had done research on what you thought might be the darkness latched to Jared. after what happened in the house before you left with the cross. you were certain. Jared was possessed. and you had to stop this thing from doing something he would regret.

your mind circled with those thoughts, but a voice brought you out of your own mind.

Jared: you have been quiet, is everythign alright?

YN: yes everything is fine. just going over the list and making sure we dont need to have the lawn people do any extra tasks while we are gone.

jared: why do you think we forgot something?

YN: its just a feeling. but its nothing to worry about. now when we get there i assume that we are gonne have a tour and a chance to unpack before we decide our first vacation activity.

Jared: i also hope you dont mind sharing a room with me. its a little 5 bedroom cottage but the 3rd, 4th and 5th rooms are supposed to be guest rooms. they only has a cot and no closet. we are just waiting on a few parts to be reno’d in there.

YN: i think i can live with this arrangement. thom i assume is gonna be in a room close by.

Jared: yep he is at one end of the hall we are at the other. you know when i called you all those months ago, asking you to fly out here to help me, i was ready to give up on finding someone to help me take care of the house and Thom. but your ad made me have hope that maybe you would be the one that would save me.

YN: i think i know what darkness follows you but i wont know forsure until i can run a test.

Jared: what kind of test

YN: one that would need to be done when Thom is asleep. one that i hope will either prove me right or prove me a liar. that is if your willing to try.

Jared: im willing to try anything.

YN: well then we will try it tonight after Thom goes to bed.

neither of you had realized how much time had passed, then you saw a sign. Jared smiled.

Jared: we are close now.

YN: that sign that i just saw is that where we are going?

Jared: yep. once you se the place you will understand why i got it. and i sound proofed the master, just in case...

he winked at you as he slowed down at the edge of a driveway. he then guided your gaze to look ahead at the cottage that now stod before you.

Thom woke up shortly after you had pulled him out of the car. he rubbed his eyes and smiled as he ran toward the house, screaming happily as he approached the steps. where he waited for you and Jared.

you both brought what you could while still having hands to open the door and help Thom up the stairs. jared unlocked the door allowing you and thom to walk through first. your eyes went wide at the first glance of your home away from home with Jared and Thom.

this was gonna be an amazing vacation. you put down what you carried, as well as let go of Thom who was running around looking at everything. you spun round and somehow landed in the arms of Jared.

Jared: what do you think?

YN: what do i think.. this is amazing. i love this. this is incredible. i wouldnt trade this vacation for anything. honestly i would rather be no where else. im quite happy here.

Jared: as in this home or my arms.

YN: both. jared, i i...

just as your about to speak again. you and jared are interrupted by thom coming out of a nearby room half dressed.

Thom: daddy, YN can we go swimming now...

jared set you back on your feet and you both laughed.

Jared: in a few moments bud we gotta find the swim suits first.

as Jared said that the attendants brought up the luggage. you looked at Jared who just smiled and whispered in your ear.

Jared: you have the summer off to relax for 6 weeks. just be normal with me and Thom. these next hours could prove several things for us. starting with lets take Thom swimming and then go from there. we will hopefully eat when we return. the attendants are already preparing supper.

you could do nothing except smile. it was already turning into a really steamy vacay. you went to where you saw jared going through your shared suitcase. first chance you got you grabbed your bikini and cover.

you went into the nearby spare room closing the door behind you. you get changed, you could hear Jared ask one of the attendants to take Thom to find him a life jacket from the boat house. then you heard silence.

then you heard the sound of the door knob turning, you were only half done tying your bikini. when Jared walked in shirtless and wearing his swim trunks.

Jared: need help?

you froze in place at his words it was like your actions were not your own. it was a few seconds after that you felt his hands around your waist sliding slowly up your back.

Jared: i wish we had this place to ourselves. we would not be leaving that master suite for a while.

YN: i wish Thom was asleep so i could take away your darkness.

Jared: so you know what it is...

YN: yes and i need you alone when i take away the darkness, Thom would be in too much danger. dont worry you will be darkness free soon. you will be back in the light and free to live your live happy with me and Thom. im not gonna let this darkness ruin your life any longer. tonight it gets banished.

Jared: just gotta tire Thom out enough that he will sleep tonight.

YN: well then lets not keep him waiting any longer.

you and jared walk outside and down the path to the lake. you were amazed at the wonder and beauty before you. bout halfway to the lake, you were pressed against the back side of a nearby tree. Jared’s eyes darkened at the sight of you, the feeling of your body beneath his hands had him hard, you could feel it against your lower back.

Jared: once Thom is gone to bed, I'm gonna make Jared watch through his own eyes as I fuck you into next week. Jared will never inhabit his body again.

You struggled slightly before speaking.

YN: i address the entity within, who are you?

Jared’s form just smiled evily at you, his hands still freely roaming your body.

YN: well you should also know that you wont live long enough to fuck me into next week. im gonna expell you from Jared’s body and send you back where you came from. now i command thee for all that light brings give me Jared back immediately.

once you finished speaking Jared’s body fell to his knees, you kneel down to only be hugged by Jared.

Jared: I'm sorry, I'm so sorry

YN: don't worry, just calm down. That demon is gonna be gone when I do the ritual. Take a few moments to breathe, I'm gonna go sit on the dock where the attendant is in the shallows with thom. Just take your time.

You placed a kiss to his cheek, then walked the rest of the way to the lake. Upon arrival at the lake, you watched the attendant and Thom, playing in the shallow water.

Attendant: miss YN. Where is Master Jared?

YN: he will be along shortly he just wanted to check his messages make sure everything is running smoothly.

Attendant: then I shall stay down here with you both till he arrives. How do you like the place Miss?

Yn: it's gorgeous. I love it. I have never been invited to go on any type of vacation. Not even in my own family. So this was a really awesome surprise.

Attendant: that is so sad... Well to many more times like this then. Thom here is a amazing little kiddo, you have been working so hard master Jared just wanted to give you a vacation you wouldn't soon forget.

Thom meanwhile was just enjoying the water, his expression had a huge smile on it. He was wet head to toe and absolutely having fun!

You kept waiting on the dock for Jared to approach and for 10 min he didn't till you, looked and saw his form approach.

you sat on the dock and felt him slide down behind you, his legs are on either side of yours, his arms round your waist. you both sat there enjoying the view while Thom played with the attendant in the water below. neither you nor Jared felt like moving knowing that in a few hours you both would be expelling the demonic force that lay now dormant inside Jared.

Jared: do you know what is better than sitting here on the dock.

YN: what

Jared: sitting on the dock with you surrounded by nature, this will be the best vacation ever once we get rid of the demon.

~time skip to a few hours later. after some swimming you all went back to the house for dinner. after dinner you guys played a game or 2 with Thom who then went with one of the attendants and had a bath, then it was time to put him to sleep. you and Jared read him a story, then he fell fast asleep. for he truely was tuckered out, you and Jared dismissed the attendants and locked the doors for the evening. you both went to the master suite as we return to the story.~

YN: i need to set something up first can you wait like 5 minutes before you enter the bathroom. oh and dont plan on showering in your trunks, and bring towels with you. i have a feeling like we will need them when we are done.

Jared: ill see you in there.

you walk towards the bathroom, holding the prayer beeds in one hand and un doing your bikini in the other. you placed the bikini on the ground and set your phone on the counter.

YN: Exorcizo te, creatura aquae. In nomine dei patris omnipotentis et in virtute spiritus sancti.

you finished the incantation and placed the rosery on the shower head so it lands in the water. then you took one look out the window and just let the water run over your body.

Jared walks in with nothing on he places the towels on the counter, you see him out of the corner of your eye.

Yn: join me?

Jared didn't need an invitation he was already climbing in behind you. For he knew that this was the only way to expell the demon.

You turned around and now faced him, you looked up at him holding his gaze you move him round so he is under the water.

His body starts shaking that's when you spoke again.

Yn: please let this work...

You had him lift you up so he was holding you as you slid down onto his cock, and spoke the incantation that hopefully would save his life. In other words bring his light fuller to push away the darkness.

Also there was a Devils trap in the floor where jard was standing you had the attendantz draw one, for the demon to be sent straight back to hell. With a clear voice the following words were spoken by you.

Yn: exorcisomus te, omnis immunus spirits, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarri, omnis legio, omnis congregato, insectas diabolicas, ergo dracto malidicte, eclesium secura fascious liberate, te regamous, audinos

At that point black smoke came out of Jared's mouth, and went straight through the floor. When Jared looked at you again his eyes were clear and he leaned you against the wall.

He began thrusting his hard cock in and out of your pussy. It was something that both of you had dreamed about for months.

His hard cock pounding your sensitive tender pussy. With each thrust you climaxed. But it was the kisses that left you both breathless.

The more he thrust the more he came. After 45 minutes and 16 climaxes for the both of you.

Jared set you down, helped you rinse off, both of you getting out after Jared turned off the water, Jared wrapped a towel round you, then he dried himself off.

Jared: thank you. Thank you for saving my life. But where did you learn to do that.

YN: too much research on the paranormal. I knew something was off and when that demon named himself I knew what I had to do.

Jared: would you consider making your time here a role more permenant than just a nanny?

YN: what kind of role would that be?

you are immediately pickd up and placed on the bed with Jared crawling on top of you. he made love to you for a few moments before just curling up with you in his arms and muttered only 2 words before he crashed.

Jared: marry me

you used voice command to turn out the lights before passing out yourself. when you both woke the next morning with just a sheet covering your still cuddling forms. you blinked a bit before moving a piece of Jared’s hair out of his eyes.

it was a few moments later that Jared stirred.

YN: morning handsome.

Jared: that was the best ive slept in years.

YN: do you remember saying anything after we hit the pillow last night.

Jared twists away from you for a moment and pulls something out of one of the drawers in his nightstand, before coming back to your embrace.

Jared: all this time i felt empty and now i want nothing more than to have you stay permenantly. YN will you partner with me in raising Thom full time, not as a nanny but as a step mom to him. YN i believ i already asked you this but will you marry me?

he reveals a small rose gold band with a 15k diamond in the center surrounded by your birthstone and Jareds birth stone. this made you nod alot, trying to find your voice as the cool metal band slid on your finger.

YN: yes! yes yes yes!!!! but umm does this mean we dont have to leave this bed right away.

Jared: i think that can be arranged besides its still early. its only 6am... we are still on work time.

going back to cuddle mode you admired your new ring as Jared now once more wraped your form in his own, your leg draped over his hip and you guys were basically a free range pretzel. so to speak. it became the start of the life you always wanted something permenant and stable. not loose and ragged.

goes to show love strikes when you least expect it.

#spnkinkbingo #spnfluffbingo

17 notes · View notes

talesfromthesnogbox · 4 years

Text

Stuck Here With you

Rating: M (Rating for explicit conversations about sex)

Words: 3,586

Summary: Richie and Eddie are stuck quarantining themselves together... what could possibly go wrong? OR based on this tweet: "@cjkasulke: APPARENTLY you have all just been *waiting* for this moment to confess your love to your roommates, so many of you live with people you have been silently in love with for y e a r s"

Notes: This is so stupid. Yes, I wrote a quarantine fic. Yes, this whole thing is a serious matter and I am an adult who's working from home and it all sucks, and there are people dying all over the world, and I do care, but I just thought people needed a little bit of a laugh, ya know? Anyways, this is wildly out of character and not good in general, but drop a comment if you like it, or if you think I'm a horrible person, whateves.

AO3

*~*~*~*~*

Richie woke from his catnap with a startled jump as he heard the front door slam shut.

“Jesus Eds, is it 6:30 already? Did I sleep all day?” He asked with a laugh.

“No asshole, it’s noon.” Eddie slammed his briefcase on the breakfast bar and worked his tie open. “This pandemic bullshit has gotten out of control.”

“Is that why you’re home right now…”

“Yes! Jared that fucking lunatic went off and brought some girl home last weekend and now he’s got a fever, so we were all sent home, and I’m stuck in isolation.”

Eddie was pissed, but Richie could see through his thinly veiled layer of anger; there was fear.

“Oh. Do you hang around Jared a lot at work?”

He sighed. “No, no I don’t, but it’s just a precaution until he can get tested properly.”

“That’s good then, right?”

It was good. After seven full days, Eddie finally emerged from his room with a cheery smile. “Jared’s in the clear, turns out he just picked up some STD, and I get to go back into work tomorrow.” He plopped down on the couch.

“That’s great Eds, but I hate to break it to you…” Richie pointed towards the TV where the headline read “California officially shut down”.

The first few days felt like any weekend would. They had extra groceries delivered, they binged some true crime documentary on Netflix, they had a group Skype session with the Losers, they did pretty much anything that took their minds off the current situation. But then the fifth day hit.

It was only 7am when Richie dragged himself out of bed for a coffee. Sure it was early, and he had nowhere to be, but time meant nothing anymore.

Usually Richie’s clamoring about the kitchen woke Eddie up. The first few nights that Eddie moved in after Derry were rough; turns out, Eddie was a pretty light sleeper, and Richie was loud. But today, there was no Eddie in sight.

He continued on his way, pouring himself a bowl of cereal when he saw it through the window to his backyard… and promptly spilled milk all over the counter.

On the bright side, Richie had found Eddie. The only downfall was he’d found him in a pair of tiny running shorts and a tank top doing squats on his deck.

“Fuck!” Richie swore, grabbing a tea towel to clean up the mess he’d made.

“Richie?” Eddie stopped his squats and ran into the house. “What the fuck happened dickwad?”

“N-nothing, nothing happened, it’s just early and I lost my grip.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“So um… what’s happening in the backyard there, Jillian Michaels?” Richie giggled.

“Fuck off. I usually go to the gym before work, but now that the gym’s closed, I had to improvise.”

“Ahh, I see, trying to pick up the new future Mrs. K with…” with thighs I want to wear as earmuffs and that tight ass? He was glad there was an entire counter between them to hide the fact that he was currently at half-mast.

Eddie gave him a strange look and shook his head. “Shut the fuck up. I’m a divorced 40-year-old living with his best friend, I don’t think I’m going to be picking someone up that easily at the gym. Besides, Santa Monica women aren’t really my type…”

“Oh? Well when this is all over, I know a few places we can go pick up chicks. West Hollywood, Beverly Hills, hell even Studio City. Name your type Eds, we’ll find her.”

“Aren’t you gay? How do you know so much about picking up women?”

“Closet case my boy.” Richie winked and took a bite of his cereal. “I’m as good of an actor as I am a comedian.”

“No wonder there were never any articles about how much of a playboy you were then.” Eddie said straight-faced, walking back out to finish his work out.

“Eds gets off a good one!”

*~*~*~*~*

After that eventful morning, Richie tried his hardest to stay in bed until after Eddie’s morning routine was done. One almost-embarrassing situation in his pants was enough to last a lifetime around his best friend of however-many years, he did not need it to escalate from there.

As the days passed on, the two of them found ways to entertain themselves. Eddie took to reading on the deck in the mild April weather, and Richie decided to pick up his guitar again for the first time in years.

He was a little rusty, but after a few hours of practice, it was like riding a bike, and before he knew it, he was back playing the tune he’d spent hours playing as a teenager.

Richie hummed along to the tune of “Eddie My Love” as his fingers formed the familiar chords with ease. He didn’t even realize Eddie walking in from the backyard, a stunned look on his face.

“Rich?” He jumped, startled at the sound of the other man.

“Hey Eds, sorry was I being loud?”

“N-no.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know you played.”

Richie chuckled. “Yeah, I picked it up in high school after Went agreed to teach me a bit. I was in a band in college, but we kinda sucked.”

Eddie scoffed. “You don’t suck, that tune is lovely. What is it?”

Richie’s face felt hot all the sudden. “Uhh, I can’t really remember the name, just something I used to play a bunch. It’s an oldie my mom really liked.”

“Can you teach me?”

His eyes widened. “Y-yeah, here, come sit.” He moved more away from the body and more towards the neck of his acoustic, allowing Eddie to sit nestled between his folded legs. “Okay, um so you hold it like this, and your fingers go here.” Richie curled Eddie’s fingers around the neck of the guitar, placing them in the correct spots on the frets. “So we start with a G chord.” His other arm snaked around Eddie’s shoulder to show him how to strum the chord.

Eddie shivered, completely engulfed by his best friend, noticing for the first time how much he loved his arms being wrapped around him like this.

“Then we move to an E minor.” Richie shifted Eddie’s fingers again and strummed. “Then A minor, and up to D.”

Eddie moved his fingers, pliant beneath Richie’s big hand. His heart beat fast, and he could feel Richie’s breath warm on his shoulder as he played.

For a moment, Eddie could convince himself that Richie felt the same way about him, but only for a moment. They were best friends, and just because Richie was gay, it didn’t mean he was interested in Eddie, no matter how hard he wished that he was. He would never have Richie, but he’d always have this moment.

*~*~*~*~*

“Alright, that’s it. We’re getting drunk.” Richie pulled out a rather large bottle of vodka and a few other spirits. “I’m mixing you up a quarantini.”

“A what now?”

“Quarantini, Eds. We’re getting shitfaced.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Rich, there’s no way in hell I’d—” he paused. Maybe this was the perfect way to come on to Richie. Lowered inhibitions were a great excuse to do something potentially stupid, and if it all went sour, he could blame it on the alcohol. “You know what, fuck it. Mix me a quarantini.”

“That’s the spirit!” He mixed the drinks and dragged Eddie over to the couch. “Alright, we’re indulging tonight. I want not a peep from you. I never got to do any of this gay shit before, and now is the perfect excuse to start a new series. We’re watching RuPaul’s Drag Race.”

Eddie nodded his head. “Drag racing, okay cool, I like cars.”

Richie burst out laughing. “No asshole, drag race… like drag queens.” He popped on a random season and hit play.

Four episodes and many quarantinis later, both Eddie and Richie were yelling at the TV.

“How could they send April home, she’s like the hottest one there!” Eddie put his hands up.

“Right? Look at how hot he is ugh I just wanna…” Eddie glanced over at Richie with a smirk. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I see it.” He pulled out his phone, April’s instagram profile already loaded. “The scruff is driving me mental.”

Richie chuckled. “Eds, that sounds kinda gay.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” Eddie said, face heating up. “Um, surprise?”

“Oh… shit dude, yeah, um, congratulations. Thanks for telling me.” Richie brought his friend into a tight hug, the alcohol running through his system making him feel a little light headed.

“Thanks for being cool about it.” Eddie mumbled, pulling away a bit, but still resting within Richie’s grasp.

“Hey man, I get it… I’m a closet case too.” He laughed.

The two were silent for a moment, content in each other’s grasp, until Eddie couldn’t handle the silence anymore. “Come on, next episode. I hope Laganja gets booted, I can’t stand her.”

Many episodes and quarantinis later, Eddie was fully shitfaced.

“Come on, bedtime for Eds.”

Eddie giggled. “Yeah Rich, take me to bed.” He waggled his eyebrows in a way that made Richie’s heart stutter.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough from you.” Richie deposited Eddie onto the bed, helping him with his shirt, when Eddie pulled him down hard.

“Oops, sorry Rich.” He giggled. “’s not my fault, you’re trying to get me out of my clothessss.”

“You’re wearing jeans, I can’t let you go to bed in jeans Eddie. What kind of asshole wears jeans in quarantine.” Richie giggles, undoing Eddie’s zip and pulling his jeans down his hairless legs. Fuck, his legs are amazing. “Eds, do you wax?” Richie giggled, rubbing a hand up his thigh.

“Pffftt, we’re in isolation shithead, I haven’t been to my wax girl in weeks.”

A jubilant laugh bubbled from Richie’s chest. “Shit, I’ve learned more about you tonight than I have in all the years I’ve known you. You really are a twunk.”

“A what now?”

Richie planted himself down on the bed beside Eddie. “Twunk, hunky twink.”

A look of realization dawned on Eddie. “Ohhhh, that makes a lot of sense. The dude at the checkout told me I was a twunk when I went to buy those underwear without the butt.”

Richie’s brain went blank. “Eddie, do you wear thongs?”

“No asshole, the other thing without the butt. Jock something, I can’t remember.”

“A jockstrap? Eddie are you trying to kill me right now?”

“Shut the fuck up asshole! They’re good for working out in. And they don’t give me lines in my nice suit pants.” Richie was speechless. “So if I’m a twunk, what are you?”

“I—I—I think it’s time for bed.”

“Oh.” Eddie said sounding dejected. “O-or we could just hang out?”

Richie was at an impasse. He knew they were walking a thin line right now, and he shouldn’t stay, but he wanted to see where this would take him, he didn’t want to leave Eddie’s side.

“I think I could hang out for a bit.”

Their “hanging out” didn’t last very long. Within ten minutes, the two men were out cold.

Richie woke up first the next morning and left the soundly sleeping Eddie to go make a pot of coffee. His head was pounding, and as much as he knew the bright sunlight was going to burn his eyes, the fresh air couldn’t hurt.

He’d never been more thankful for his manager who also happened to be a fantastic decorator. The outdoor couch may have seemed stupid to him when he first bought the place, but at times like this, it was a great choice. He could relax, and look out towards the ocean, and forget everything that happened the night before.

That is until Eddie decided to join him.

Richie’s breath left his lungs once he got a good look at his friend. It was like a blast from the past seeing him in a pair of tiny red running shorts, much like those he wore when he was a kid, but now… now they were so much more. Richie’s mouth watered when his eyes caught a good look at how Eddie’s ass filled out the shorts. A large tank top donned his torso, one that Richie had been gifted, and definitely not been too comfortable wearing himself judging by how low cut the arm holes were. He looked hot, not that he wasn’t always attracted to Eddie, but this felt like something had changed, a sexual awakening of sorts, and Richie would never look at his friend the same way.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungover.” Eddie complained as he sat beside Richie. “That stupid drink went down like water.”

“Yeah man I hear you, I feel like shit.”

“I had fun though, it’s been a long time since I’ve had that much fun.”

Richie looked over to him. “No regrets about spilling your guts then?”

Eddie winced. “Okay, maybe you didn’t have to hear about what kind of underwear I prefer.”

Richie burst out laughing. “No, I definitely appreciated that tidbit of information, Eds. I’m proud that my twunk theory was right.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself you coward.” Richie mumbled to himself.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“N-nothing.” He said, darting inside. “Going to work on my new show, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Richie had to get out of there. Last night was a lot, sure, but something felt different today. Seeing Eddie in his boxer briefs felt almost safer than whatever the hell he was wearing today. It’s almost like… almost like he’d purposely dressed up for Richie, and it was killing him. He didn’t know how much more he could take before he combusted.

Unfortunately for Richie, this new look seemed to be Eddie’s new uniform. Richie could tell that now Eddie was out to him, he felt more comfortable being himself, but Richie hated every second of it.

He dreaded seeing Eddie in the morning, dreaded knowing what fresh hell lay beyond his bedroom door in the form of a 5’9 firey bundle of sex personified.

Nearly a month into their quarantine, it was finally warm enough for Richie to sit out by the pool. He donned the brightest swim trunks he could find and rubbed his pale skin down with sunscreen, soaking up some vitamin D.

He’d been out there for just under an hour when he heard (and felt) a splash from the pool where Eddie jumped in.

“Okay, I take back everything bad I ever said about you having a pool when the ocean is right there. The pool is definitely more relaxing than the beach.”

Richie giggled. “I told you, asshole.”

“Oh, and I totally figured out what you are now. If I’m a twunk, you’re an otter.”

“A what now?” Richie removed his sunglasses and moved to sit on the edge of the pool.

“An otter.” Eddie rested his elbows on Richie’s thighs as his calves framed his torso. “At least that’s what I think. It’s like a softer bear. You’re not quite as big and not enough hair to be a bear, and you’re still too thin to be a cub, so you’re an otter.”

“I understood exactly none of what you said except for ‘bear’. I met a bear on Grindr just before Derry that made me realize I like being the bigger body in bed.” Richie winked saucily.

“So you’re a top then Trashmouth?”

Richie’s brows rose into his hairline. “I—I—we are not talking about this right now, not when you’re this close to my dick.”

“Oh come on, you used to talk about your dick all the time.”

“Yeah, I was a closeted kid who’s balls hadn’t dropped yet, obviously I wanted to come off as heterosexual as I could.”

Eddie laughed. “Okay, good point.”

The two sat in the same position for a few minutes, exchanging no words between them. It felt intimate, it felt like Eddie was flirting with him, but he’d never been good at picking up signs. Could Eddie want this too?

“I am though.” He said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

“You’re what?”

Richie’s heart thudded in his chest. “A top, I guess. I don’t mind bottoming, I like it, but I guess I just…”

Eddie grinned. “You like being in charge?”

“No, fuck no.” Richie laughed.

“Really? Huh, okay.” Eddie nodded, mostly to himself.

“Hey, what the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing, nothing at all Tozier.” Eddie pushed off of Richie’s legs and floated on his back towards the inflatable lounger.

*~*~*~*~*

The week that followed was agonizing. All Eddie wore was those stupid shorts and a variation of t-shirt/tank-top/fucking crop top, and it was driving Richie mental. He felt like a teenager again, he’d never had so many hard-ons in one week in his life.

It was only a matter of time before Richie snapped.

Richie was descending the stairs from his room one fateful morning and groaned rather loudly when he saw what was waiting for him.

The shorts seemed shorter, tighter on his ass (damn all those squats he does) and his already short shirt seemed to rise up, showing the lovely dimples on his lower back as he reached for a bowl from a high shelf.

“Hey Rich, can you help me… what’s wrong?”

He huffed out a laugh. “What’s wrong? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Wh—did I do something?”

Richie stared at Eddie in disbelief. “Did you… did you do someth—the shorts man, what’s with the shorts!”

“The shorts? I always wear the shorts.”

“I fucking know you always wear the shorts, that’s the problem!” Richie’s stomach rolled. He thought he was going to throw up, he’d never been this candid about his feelings in his life.

“You have a problem with the way I dress? Fuck you, dude.”

“Fuck me yourself you coward!”

Both men fell silent. The tension could be cut with a knife, it was so thick between them.

“Richie?”

“Fuck man, I’m sorry I freaked out on you like that, I just don’t know if I can take this anymore. We’ve been cooped up for a month and I swear I’ve done more jacking off in the last month than I ever did as a teenager.” As good as it felt to spill his guts, he definitely thought he was going to pass out any second.

“I—I don’t…”

“The worst part is, it’s not even just that I’m horny. It’s you! Shit man, I’ve been dreaming of you since we were fucking teenagers. And now… now here you are looking like a goddamn… a goddamn what’s the word… a goddamn snack, telling me shit about the sexy underwear you buy, and asking me if I’m a top. Eddie, I don’t know if you’re flirting with me or not, but Jesus fucking Christ, it’s taking every single fiber of my willpower to not rip your clothes off right now.”

Eddie held back a smile. “Wait, I’m sorry, what? You couldn’t tell I was flirting with you? Are you fucking blind? Actually don’t answer that, I know you’re fucking blind.”

Richie was sure he was gonna get a nosebleed any second. “S-so you were flirting with me?”

Eddie laughed out loud. “Yes you idiot! Literally since the moment I got here, I have been flirting with you. You didn’t get the hint that I have feelings for you?”

“What the fuck, no man! Like you said, I’m fucking blind. I thought you were straight until a few weeks ago!”

Eddie moved to lean against the island, closer to Richie. “You dumbass, I tried so hard the night I came out to you, why do you think I told you about what fucking underwear I wear?”

“I don’t know man, I’m not good at this shit.”

“Clearly!”

Richie cast his eyes down. “S-so, so you really like me?”

Eddie reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers. He pulled Richie closer to him, so he was pinned between Richie and the island. “I love you, dickwad.”

Richie huffed out a laugh. “I love you too.” He blinked rapidly, looking up towards the light. “Oh god, why am I crying.”

“Get over here you big baby.” Eddie detangled his fingers from Richie’s and brought his hand up to the other man’s cheek, bringing him in for a kiss. It was sweet, it was chaste, it was everything Richie wanted from Eddie when they were younger.

But he wasn’t a teenager, and he wanted more.

He dove forward, tongue clashing with Eddie’s. It was hot, it was toe curling good. He snaked his other hand down Eddie’s side, curling around his hip and moving to squeeze his ass. Eddie groaned and ground himself into Richie’s thigh.

“Fuck.” Richie said pulling away. “Fuck, how are you so hot? We’re fucking forty man.”

“Me? Dude, look at you. Your arms… your chest…” Eddie snaked his hand under Richie’s shirt, scratching at the smattering of hair on his pecs.

“Jesus man, I’m not gonna last… fuck… bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”

*~*~*~*~*

The two men finally emerged from Richie’s bedroom for dinner later on with kiss bruised lips and satisfaction plastered on their faces.

“Anything good on?” Eddie asked as Richie turned on the TV. “Rich?”

Richie laughed. “You better come see this.”

“QUARANTINE LIFTED” The headline read as news anchors happily recounted the fall in new cases, and the rise in recoveries.

“You’re fucking joking.”

#reddie #reddie fic #Richie x Eddie #it fic #yup this is so stupid #yet here I am posting it #my writing

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

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15x08: Our Father, Who Aren’t In Heaven

Then:

Fighting the good fight since 2010

Now:

At the Lucky Elephant Casino, God’s knocking back fruity drinks, playing slots, and murdering everyone around him. Things don’t look so fun in Chuck-land.

Meanwhile, Eileen is living her best new life hunting a werewolf. She’s kicking butt but has a temporary setback when Sam shows up. She shoves him out of the way to finish the job. She asks Sam if he’s following her. MAYBE he’s being a little overprotective, but c’mon, he did just bring her back from the dead. I’m guessing he’d like to keep her on the side of the living a little longer than a week or two.

Later at the bunker, they’re eating their respective burger (Eileen) and salad (Sam), and Dean walks in with the demon tablet. He’s hoping the tablet will reveal a weak spot with God. They’re going to need Donatello!

Cas knock’s on Donny’s door. Hmm, I see, divorced husbands still communicating about the case and Cas still doing things for the cause.

Donatello comes back to the bunker, but isn’t happy about it. He gets to work eating chicken wings and translating the tablet again. Sam, Dean, and Cas casually hang out in the library and sneak concerned looks towards the prophet.

Donny finds some footnotes written by Metatron about God’s secret fear that he only shared with “his favorite.” Lucifer was already locked away by the time the tablets were written. He must mean Michael. The problem with finding Michael is that he’s locked away in the Cage. Donatello starts to freak out over how overly dramatic TFW’s lives are but then passes out in a chair. He comes to --but it’s Chuck this time communicating directly through his prophet. He tells them to leave it alone. Then he threatens all the women in their lives if they don’t (and I just hate/love this because this calls back to early SPN so much when the women died for all their man-pain.)

They tell Donatello to go home. Then they all decide (Cas reluctantly) to go to Hell to find Michael. Dean sarcastically tells Cas that he can “stay here” at the bunker. And I can’t for the life of me find the post now, but whoever made a post of Dean increasingly going from sarcasm to flat out begging for Cas to stay at the bunker is my hero.

In the bunker’s kitchen, they cast the same spell Rowena used to get Cas and Belphagor to Hell before. Dean cuts his hand as part of the spell (something he’s done a thousand times before) and Cas takes the time to heal him (but doesn’t touch him like he normally does) and it takes so much of him to do it. I’m just going to sit here quietly for a bit before proceeding.

Once in Hell, Cas leads the way until they run into a bunch of badass lady demons that completely kick their asses. Well, they do until a very familiar voice bellows, “STOP!”

It’s ROWENA!!!

She’s now Queen of Hell. She’s also posturing up a storm. Ah. They tell her they want to lock up Chuck and they’re looking for Michael. She tells them he could be anywhere. The Cage opened just like the rest of the doors in Hell. She sends her demon minions to find Michael.

Back at the bunker, Eileen is watching over the spell, and she gets a call from Sue, another hunter. She needs help with a vamp nest. Eileen agrees to help as soon as she’s done helping TFW.

In Hell, TFW meets with Rowena in her throne room. She tells Sam that killing her was a good thing. She’s queen! Then she asks him to get her another drink (!) so she can have a little therapy time with the other two clowns. She tells them to “fix it” because there’s no reconciliation in death. A demon comes in to inform them that Michael “is nowhere to be found.”

For Perfect Framing Science:

Actually, he can be found at Jaci’s Red Wagon diner. It seems that Adam and Michael are good buds and Adam’s currently enjoying his first burger in ten years.

Dean checks in with Donatello just one more leeeetle time to see if he’s gotten any Chuck-adjacent flashes. Just when you think you’re out, yadda yadda yadda… He THEN checks in with Sam about Eileen. She is FINE, Dean, they have “an agreement.” Dean picks up on Sam’s waffling, and tells Sam that she fits the parameters of a potential partner: she knows the life, plus she’s hot. That’s way better than the life Sam tried to build with Amelia, a bag of limes, and a dog. This conversation is also notable for Dean’s admission that he’d been in a very dark place not long ago but he’s climbing out of it now.

At the diner, Adam continues to chill with Michael and contemplate the future when Lilith arrives.

She’s there to bring Michael to Chuck. “I’m not accustomed to being fetched,” Michael says coldly. It looks like things are headed towards fisticuffs when Michael just…burns her to ash right there. Ah, archangels. (Side note: I rewatched this section with the sound off while gathering images and watching her performance is every bit as engaging. I’ll miss you, scrunchy-nose Lilith.)

Donatello has a vision and sees Michael’s spiteful smiting (smiteful?). He calls Dean with Michael’s location. He’s in Cairo! Time for Dean to hop on a plane and hold Cas’s hand nervously the entire time… I’m ready for an airplane destiel fic episode!

Cas has an alternate, non-hand-holding suggestion. He’ll pray to Michael instead. In the quiet of an upstairs corner of the bunker, next to a REAL and also METAPHORICAL CHESS SET, Cas characterizes their last meeting as “unpleasant” and asks to meet up. “I’m not your enemy anymore. Now we all have the same enemy. God himself.”

Mmmkay, compelling words. Michael meets Cas in a warehouse. He remembers Cas. “You called me assbutt and set me on fire.” LOL, classic. Cas faces Michael stoically and lights a circle of holy oil around him. That’s the Winchester’s cue to enter and they do so with STYLE.

DAMN!

Dean presents a set of warded cuffs for Michael’s consideration. There’s clearly only one way out of the circle of fire.

For Check out the Curtains Made of Chains SO PRETTY Science:

Michael is twenty-five shades of pissed off at being confined. In the bunker he accuses the Winchesters of abandoning their brother and then shocks them all by flashing Adam back in control.

Adam seems much more chill than Michael and reveals that he and the archangel only had each other in the cage so they came to an agreement. Dean, who only recently stopped dragging himself around in a post-Michael traumatic haze, is gobsmacked that Michael’s letting Adam walk and talk. He tells Adam that there’s nothing they can say to fix what they did by leaving him in the cage. “How about ‘I’m sorry?’” Adam suggests.

Michael wrests back control and we go back to Chuck talk. Team Free Will attempts to briefly explain that Chuck isn’t trying to usher in “boring” paradise. Instead, Michael’s dad would rather see everybody suffer, including Michael.

Adam pops back behind the helm and advises them to stop their paltry attempt at convincing Michael of Chuck’s perfidy. On his (their) own, Adam unpacks the situation. He doesn’t forgive the Winchesters for what they did, but he does think they’re operating from good intentions. I don’t remember where I saw this online, but somebody posted that they have never liked Adam more than in this episode. I completely agree! There’s a lovely amount of complexity and growth hinted at through this performance.

Michael finds it hard to shake off a near-eternity of being God’s favored son. God is “having a mid-eternity crisis,” Adam suggests. Maybe Michael should at least entertain the possibility that Chuck isn’t on the up-and-up. Michael doesn’t want to doubt his father. “You still care about that after he left you in the cage?” Adam asks.

Meanwhile, Eileen’s friend Sue calls again. She’s ready to move on the vamps and needs backup NOW. When Eileen hesitates, Sue needles her about having to ask for permission. Eileen rises to Sue’s barb and agrees to meet up. The camera tumbles, Sue swears, and Eileen acts immediately as the call ends. She races to Sam’s room and fills him in on her friend’s perilous situation. Together, they run off to give Sue backup. (I love how this scene both shows Eileen’s need to assert her own independence and her absolute trust and pragmatism in getting Sam to back her up.)

Cas heads in to speak with Adam/Michael. Michael is still not on board the fight-Chuck train. Cas responds with sass, as is his custom. “I never liked you. I thought you were too haughty. Too…to paraphrase a friend, you had an entire oak tree shoved up your ass.”

Now Cas finds him pitiable. Michael isn’t God’s favorite. He’s just a tiny part of Chuck’s favorite soap opera. DAMN, Cas.

Cas goes even further, telling Michael that Lucifer was the smart one all along, and Michael SNAPS. He flips Cas over the table and gets him in a headlock. Cas struggles, and manages to lock both his hands on Michael’s temples. It’s brain zapping time! Even an archangel is no match for Cas’s mind mojo, and Cas dumps a clip show of Chuck being a dick writer into Michael’s head.

Later, Cas decompresses alone in the kitchen. Dean arrives, then suggests that Cas might have misjudged the situation and gone too far with Michael. D E A N. Before Cas left, Michael essentially said, “Leave. Get out. I want you dead.” We’ve all been in agony for several days now over the parallels between this line and what Cas thinks he’s getting from Dean and AAAAUGH THE SWEET PAIN OF IT. “We didn’t bond,” Cas summarizes. If you need me, I’ll be hunched in this burning dumpster, muttering about profound bonds.

The bunker rattles, and they race to Michael’s room. He greets them with, “God lied to me.” He gave everything for Chuck, but it turns out he’s not even unique across the multiverse if there are other Michaels out there.

Sam and Eileen arrive at the hunt and discover abandoned vehicles. Sam’s suspicion bone is tingling, but then Sue shows up. She’s got this swagger, so Boris and I immediately assume she’s been turned into a vamp because we’ve been watching this show since forever. Uh, Sue’s not a vamp. She’s Chuck! Or…you know, Chuck’s her! [Admiral Ackbar voice] It’s a trap!

Michael agrees to help Team Free Will. He pulls out a slip of paper with a spell on it that can contain Chuck just like it contained Amara. All they need is myrrh, cassia, rock-rose, and the nectar of a leviathan blossom. It’s a flower that grows in Purgatory. Michael opens up a rift-style door with the snap of his fingers.

The door will stay open for twelve hours. Dean uncuffs Michael/Adam and apologizes for what happened to his half brother. Adam smiles sadly and wishes them luck in their Chuck-fighting endeavors. After he/they leave, Cas and Dean turn towards the glowing rift. It’s Purgatory time, baby! And you know what they say about Purgatory. It’s the perfect place to work out your emotions in a friendly, non-deadly environment!

Quotingmoon in Purgatory:

There’s a crack in his invincibility shield

When I go crazy again, just shoot me

Usually I enjoy our little process. I toss something at you guys and you slam it right back. It’s fun! Like tennis! With monsters

What am I picking up from you two? A wee tif? Tell your Auntie Rowena

Why would he send you, a demon, a speck of infernal bile?

Oh, I didn’t come to beg

Since when do we get what we deserve?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 15x08 #our father who aren't in heaven #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #chuck shurley #eileen leahy #rowena macleod #donatello redfield #adam milligan #michael #lillith #supernatural season 15

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unculturedmamoswine · 4 years

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AoS McKirk Recs

At the request of @fireinmywoods I’m finally getting around to making a McKirk rec post, which I’ve been wanting to do for a while. All these fics are McKirk endgame. This isn’t organized in any way whatsoever, and is also not a comprehensive list. I mostly just scrolled through my bookmarks and picked the things that weren’t outright porn. I always wish reccers would include their own notes along with the author’s summaries so... I did that. Hope y’all don’t mind. I’ll try not to be too spoilery, but I think it’s valuable to see what other fans like about a fic. Also, always heed the author’s notes, warnings, and tags. Definitely check out other fics by these authors, because I’m mostly not reccing a bunch by each person in order to keep this post slightly less long. And please consider leaving comments on the fics!

The palimpsest verse by fireinmywoods (series is 100k words)

Author’s summary (of the first fic in the series): “Skip to the point, Jim. The sooner you spit it out, the sooner I can refuse and get back to work.” “It’s really no big deal,” Jim says as the door slides closed behind them. “I just need you to come down to Hearth with us…as my husband.” The Enterprise has been sent to negotiate reaccession to the Federation with an isolationist religious group known as the Kindred. While there, Jim notices that some of the children seem to be gravely ill. The problem is, the Kindred practice faith healing and refuse to allow a doctor to be brought in. So Jim does what he does best: he improvises.

Gotta start with the gal whose fault this list is! When I read the first fic in this verse I was really at a low point in my McKirk obsession. This fic really brought me back into the fold in a big way. The whole series is just very very full of love. I ALMOST read one of the sequels first but thank god I heeded Em’s warnings to read palimpsest before reading the other fics. Seriously. You need to go into the thing unspoiled. Anyhow, if you want Jim and Bones way way super in love, for sure read this fic.(And listen, if you don’t want to read it because you hate fake marriage please read it anyway. I dislike fake marriage and I read it and loved it. Give it a shot, I beg you.)

Manhattan (Weeks Gone By) by blcwriter (8k words)

Author’s Summary: For the jim_and_bones St. Patrick’s Day challenge, because only I can turn a flash fic prompt into 8000 words. I haven't been able to stop listening to Frightened Rabbit’s “In Living Colour” from their Winter of Mixed Drinks album as I was trying to figure out what I wanted to say for my next story, and then this challenge came along, and literal writer! is literal, so, there you go.The prompt was "Manhattan," and the boys wanted to be married in modern times and run a bar in the Village with the whole gang involved. Non-happy-fun-times ensue before things sort of resolve.

I love a lot of blcwriter’s stuff, but this one is my favorite. It’s a modern day au, and Jim and Bones’s marriage is in trouble. It’s a really wonderful look at people in a long-term relationship struggling to keep it alive and wondering whether to just let it die.

Something so right by blcwriter (series is 13k words)

Author’s Summary (of the first fic in the series): "Don't say we aren't right for each other, the way I see it is.. we aren't right for anyone else."

Okay, I said I wouldn’t rec lots of things by one author and this is my one exception. I HAD to rec this one as well as Manhattan. An utterly fantastic modern day chef au. Jim and Bones knew each other at culinary school but now find each other again as real grown-ups. And the sequel is a Christmas fic! Also contains Jewish Jim, which I’m always a slut for.

That Monogamy Thing by silverlining99 (11k words)

Author’s Summary: Jim thought he was doing it RIGHT.

I also need to mention the fic The Thing About Realizing You Are In Love With Your Best Friend by JenTheSweetie because these two fics are so identical in premise I can only assume they were written for the same prompt. They’re both great, but I slightly prefer That Monogamy Thing, so it got top billing. Both fics are set during the five year mission, or at least they’re set on the Enterprise. Basically, Jim and Bones start sleeping together and Jim assumes they must be now in a Monogamous Relationship(TM) and gets with the monogamy program. Of course, at no point did anyone say they were in a monogamous relationship, so Bones is not on the same page, shall we say. It’s a classic “miscommunication causes delicious but short-lived angst” kinda vibe. You get it.

The Repairs verse by shinychimera and Yeomanrand (series is 69k words)

Authors’ Summary (of the first fic in the series): Young Jim Kirk is unstable and self-destructive, Leonard McCoy is withdrawn and wary, and the obstacles to surviving their first term at Starfleet Academy are not easy to overcome. A dark and brutal tale of the tangled borders between healing and hurting, where hard choices between emotions and ethics have far-reaching consequences; dealing with abuse and alcoholism, affection and neglect, piercings and bar fights, hot and cold sex, complicated questions of consent, and loyalty and love between people who aren't comfortable with either. A whole new spin on "I want my pain, I need my pain."

This one is kinda...whump porn. Like, read the tags. JIm is suuuper messed up and traumatized but sometimes that’s what you need in a fic, yanno? It’s an Academy fic that deals heavily with Jim having been violently abused as a child, and him growing to trust Bones while also kind of learning how to be an adult, rather than living life as the abused child he’s spent so long being. The abuse in this fic was not sexual in nature, jsyk.

En Promenade by newsbypostcard (series is 86k words)

Author’s Summary: After three months of weekend bar-hopping and a slow process of elimination -- with finding the right bar, that was, and tragically not discovering who Bones was into -- Jim was starting to narrow it down.

A very cute Academy fic that nevertheless deals with a bit of heavy shit for both Jim and Bones. Starts out with Jim bound and determined to befriend Bones by... discovering the perfect bar for them to hang out in. Has a lot of really great exploration of Bones’s character, and he’s written in a really entertaining way.

Future Imperfect by Savoytruffle (50k words)

Author’s Summary: Leonard wins the kid in a hand of poker. A hand of poker he plays in the dirty back room of a dive bar in East Bumfuck, Iowa, two weeks after his humiliating divorce is finalized, and on the sixth day of a bourbon-fueled bender that’s somehow taken him from his high-rise loft in Atlanta to a fleabag motel in the middle of nowhere.

This fic is an Academy fic, but in a pretty dark universe. Maybe not Mirror Universe dark, but it’s one where slavery is practiced on Earth. Jim is, in this fic, Bones’s slave. Not in a sexy way. He’s part of an underclass of people who weren’t designer babies. Bones goes to the Academy and tries to become a Starfleet officer, accompanied by Jim, his newly acquired slave. They grow closer as they deal with their pasts, and I guess I should stop there for fear of spoiling too much. This one talks a lot about childhood sexual abuse, so be warned. The story overall though has a hopeful ending.

Let Me Come Home by yawnralphio (7k words)

Author’s Summary: “Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.”

For someone who theoretically dislikes modern day AU’s, there are actually a fair few that I really really love, and this is one. Jim and Bones run a travel blog together and journey around the US in a van. It’s a really lovely mix of angst and romance.

The Switch series by Ceres_Libera (series is 269k words)

Author’s Summary (of the first fic in the series): The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense. A Starfleet Academy story, set in the ST:XI universe.

I don’t need any sass, people. I KNOW you’ve all read Switch, and I know you’re all tired of seeing it on rec lists and I don’t care. It’s famous for a reason! It’s not just long, it’s WONDERFUL. The big, epic Academy fic that kinda sets the Academy fic bar. Goes from Jim and Bones meeting all the way through the end of the 09 film. And that’s just the main fic. I really love that both Jim and Bones are depicted as realistically flawed people, especially earlier on in their acquaintance. Neither of them are angst sponges, they’re both just... kinda messed up dudes. But they’re good people who learn to love each other. Also I guess it’s technically slow burn?

The Greater Good by emiliglia (29k words)

Author’s Summary: Doctor Leonard McCoy thinks he's getting by, working as both a surgeon and a researcher at UCSF Medical Center. A chance encounter with Lieutenant Jim Kirk - who's changed since they first met five years before, and not for the better - forces Leonard to face reality about his own situation while trying to keep Jim from heading down the same path.

This is the only fic on here not on Ao3, as far as I can tell. Anyhow it’s modern day AU. Jim and Bones help themselves by helping each other and falling in looooove.

The aftershocks series by canistakahari (series is 30k words)

Author’s Summary: Jim Kirk turns down Pike’s challenge, and doesn’t get on the Starfleet recruiting shuttle. But neither does Leonard McCoy, who’s actually been in Iowa for six months already, doing fuck-all. Becoming drinking buddies seems like a natural progression.Sometimes the path to the stars is just a piece-of-shit dirt road. You know, the kind that’s filled with potholes and surrounded by brambles and conveniently happens to be located in the bottom of a ravine. But every once in a while, when confronted with such a twisted mess of circumstance and cracked foundation, the universe still does its very best to fill in the holes.

I haven’t read this in a long time, but I remember it being really good and kinda mindfucky. Not in a dark or stressful way, though. Jim and Bones don’t join Starfleet at all. I feel I shouldn’t say more because I don’t want to spoil things, but the tags should give you more information if you want some.

i think i’ll keep you (like a secret) by hoosierbitch (3k words)

Author’s Summary: Bones came to Starfleet with a hell of a lot of baggage. Jim came empty handed.

Some good ole Jim angst. Prominently featuring: Tarsus things! Allergic-to-everything Jim! Jim allowing himself to be vulnerable around Bones! All that good stuff. I just love me some vulnerability.

How Whales (Sorta) Brought Jim and Bones Together by highschool-facelesshellion (4k words)

Author’s Summary: For Leonard, first dates are flowers and small, homey restaurants where you talk quietly like you're sharing secrets with your potential girlfriend.They are not supposed to be at a table covered with aquarium maps and aquarium souvenirs. And they are certainly not supposed to be spent with a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy rambling about whales.(Or: Where Leonard is the only person that doesn't think Jim's too crazy for his whale obsession and Jim notices.)

Fairly goofy, slightly cracky remix of The Voyage Home (the one with the whales). It’s just silly and charming and I don’t know why I love the idea of Jim being a whale aficionado, but I really do.

Any Road Will Take You There by shoreleave (63k words)

Author’s Summary: Slow-developing K/M, beginning right after the shuttle ride and showing what happens the first year at the Academy. Told from McCoy's POV.

This fic is verrrrry good. I know I have a lot of Academy fic on here, but please treat yourself and read this one. Shoreleave is really good at both plot and characterization. I really like this fic in part because it explores the root of Jim’s complete lack of trust in authority figures, while also showing just how dangerous that lack of trust can be for him.

Seeing Stars by lindmere (1k words)

Author’s Summary: Inspired by Chris Pine's wig in Bottle Shock. Jim sneaks into Riverside for an old-fashioned Fourth of July.

A very sweet, sort of domestic established relationship fic.

His Eyes are Opened by tresa_cho (21k words)

Author’s Summary: Lt Colonel Leonard McCoy thought his service days were over. After the Great War, he was ready to disappear into the sanctuary of anonymity, but the government had other plans. Strange men whisk him away from his comfortable existence to investigate an airship crash unlike anything the United States had ever seen before. The year is 1947. The location, Roswell, New Mexico.

Despite the summary saying ‘Great War’, this fic is clearly post WWII, so I think that must be a typo. There is a dearth of McKirk fic set in the forties, and hot damn does this fic ever hit the spot if that’s what you’re looking for. Usually fics that are set in modern times or earlier take out all the sci-fi elements of Star Trek, but not this one! Just a very well done fic with a unique premise.

Investigations by AceOfSpades (series is 93k words)

Author’s Summary: The first thing Jim noticed about McCoy, and what started him on this whole messy path, was that McCoy was just a little…off.

GOD DAMN I love this fic. It’s a Doom (2005) fusion, but you don’t need to know anything about Doom to get this fic. It might even help to not know anything about Doom. God knows I don’t and I adore this fic. Academy era, with Jim simultaneously befriending Bones and trying to solve the mystery of this weird Leonard McCoy guy. Theoretically we’re getting a sequel sometime, and it can’t come soon enough in my opinion. Never fear, though, the fic is complete as-is and has lovely closure. Really really really recommended!

The Galactic Adventures of Major Zeph by winterover (14k words)

Author’s Summary: Jim is a comic book nerd who’s finally found his one true sidekick. Leonard is a convention virgin who really needs a drink. There is only one bed left in San Diego.

Academy fic! For some reason I always love fics where Jim is into some kind of craft or art, or is just generally a nerd about something. This fic provides that twice: Jim is a comic book nerd as the summary says, but also really into cosplay. And Bones just happens to look like the sidekick of Jim’s favorite comic book character. Romantic hijinks ensue.

The Man Who Held Up Atlas by thalialunacy (7k words)

Author’s Summary: Five times Leonard McCoy fixed Jim Kirk’s back, and the one time he didn’t have to.

Really really lovely 5 plus 1 fic with reverse chronology. Starts with Jim and Bones as old old men and moves back in time from there, showing little snapshots of their relationship.

and i can lend you broken parts that might fit (like this) by jeyhawk (17k words)

Author’s Summary: Academy Era. First they fall into bed. Then they fall in love.

Funny and sweet. Nothing too heavy, just loads of Jim and Bones being wildly in love with each other. And sexytimes.

#mckirk #fic rec #star trek #aos #my post

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justalittlelitnerd · 4 years

Text

By A Thread by Lucy Score

We weren’t touching. But it felt like the space between us was charged with something. It was acting like a defibrillator on my heart.

This book had everything I want in a romance: a sassy, non-damsel heroine and a hero with soft boi vibes (I am a complete sucker for assholes covering up soft, warm centers).

Don’t let the office romance aspect dissuade you (it’s obviously a common, but controversial trope in romance b/c power dynamics and whatnot), this is not ~in my experience~ a conventional office romance.

First, Ally only ends up working at Dominic’s company after he gets her fired and his mom (who’s also his boss at the magazine she also owns) makes the job offer in reparation.

Second, in addition to the two characters being completely at odds from the first meeting (he got her fired after all), Dominic is staunchly against an office romance not only because of his own values and awareness of power dynamics but because of his father’s history of sexual harrassment and assault. When they eventually fall into bed together (because duh this is a romance) he immediately offers to quit his job so the power dynamics of the office wouldn’t be an issue.

That being said Dominic is an overbearing, and at times straight up controlling, son of a bitch (sorry as Ally would say his mother is lovely) and it made me want to throat punch him sometimes, but at the same time so did Ally’s stubbornness and pride.

Score has a talent though for balance because any time Dominic started to get out of control, Ally wouldn’t hesitate to go head to head with him and speak her mind and the honesty and directness was refreshing.

The ending felt a little bit rushed because clearly Dominic was trying (although in ways that were grossly overbearing and were exactly what Ally didn’t want him to do) and she made it clear that she couldn’t forgive him and I wanted more of a conversation or thought process to why she finally did aside from “that’s what love is.”

This book was fun and funny and sarcastic and their banter made the story flow and is definitely the main reason I would consider rereading this romance.

Keep reading for some top notch quotes!

It wasn’t out of the kindness of my heart. I had neither kindness nor a heart. I considered it atonement for being an asshole.

Clearly, she wasn’t intimidated by an asshole in Hugo Boss with a haircut that cost more than her entire outfit. I basked in her disdain. It was miles more comfortable for me than the terrified glances and “Right away, Mr. Russo”s I got in the hallways at work.

It had been too long since I’d squashed a disrespectful underling. I itched to do it now. She looked not only like she could take it but that she might even enjoy it.

“Fine. But if she poisons me, I’ll sue her and her entire family. Her great-grandchildren will feel my wrath.” My mother sighed theatrically. “Who hurt you, darling?” It was a joke. But we both knew the answer wasn’t funny.

I knew he felt it, too. That unexpected jolt. Like taking a shot of whiskey or sticking a finger in a light socket. Maybe both at the same time. For one moment of pure insanity, I wondered if he intended to take me over his knee and if I’d let him.

I’d assumed they’d all get used to me. Apparently I’d assumed incorrectly. I was the beast to my mother’s beauty. The monster to the heroine. When they looked at me, they saw my father.

Her tone was steely and anger all but crackled off her. I hoped she got the guy’s balls in the divorce.

“You know, you’d be a lot prettier if you smiled once in a while,” she mused, fluttering her lashes. No wonder women hated it when men said that.

It was fucking cold. February was right around the corner, and if there was anything colder and damper than January in New York, it was fucking February. Of course, fashion didn’t heed below-freezing temperatures. No. Fashion made its own rules outside of time and space and temperature.

I, on the other hand, didn’t trust myself to survive even basic contact. Ally was only safe, my soul was only safe, as long as I didn’t touch her.

He was looming over me, but rather than threatening, it felt intimate, careful, almost safe. Like I wanted to be exactly here with exactly him.

Tell me the top five things you hate STAT. (This is the secret to finding out just how bad a person is in case you need it for interviewing future wives or human sacrifices.)

Somewhere along the line, she’d started talking to me like we were friends. As if that moment of honesty in the bar, those emails exchanged, had somehow made us friendly. And while I craved her next confession, I also couldn’t handle the intimacy. I was ripped down the middle. Torn between wanting to know everything there was to know about this woman and wanting to forget she existed.

I hated it when she walked away from me. It always felt like she took the light and heat with her. I added that to my Hate List.

Those blue eyes weren’t cold now. There was a victorious fire burning in them. And I was acutely aware that I was in immediate danger.

My heart was trying to blast its way out of my chest. I didn’t know where the organ had gotten actual sticks of dynamite, but that’s what was happening. My insides had turned to lava… or magma, whichever metaphor was most appropriate.

“Lots of people dance for money. Prima ballerinas, Jane Fonda, Laker Girls, back-up dancers, Rockettes. All women who make money by moving their bodies. There’s nothing remotely shameful about it,” Faith insisted. “You aren’t doing anything wrong. And anyone who tells you that you are is—” “Part of the patriarchy.”

I hoped to God security was up to the challenge tonight. Because if anyone laid a hand on her, one single finger on her, I was going to lose my shit.

I wondered if I was leaving a trail of body glitter behind me like I was a Questionable Life Choices Tinkerbell.

If mystery bothered him so much, this son of a bitch—wait, no. His mother was a lovely human being. This alphahole was going to suffer. I’d make sure of it.

I wanted to believe in my bones that he was doing this as some stupid mind game, that he got off on playing puppet master with my life. But deep down, I was worried that it was something much, much worse. Dominic Russo was trying to take care of me.

I was so pathetically happy that she was speaking to me in multisyllabic words I would have let her slap me across the face with the folder.

I walked back into the room feeling like Cinder-freaking-rella. If Cinderella’s fairy godmother had given her a sexy, skin-hugging gown the color of crimson or, as I liked to think of it, Dominic Russo’s crushed heart.

Everyone was hitting the open bar like it was last call, and those little appetizers were doing nothing to soak up the liquor. It was entertaining, but I had a feeling this is how bad things happened at office Christmas parties. Inhibitions lowered, tongues loosened, and shit went down.

Oh, boy. I’d heard rumors of Drunk Dominic. But they hadn’t prepared me for the reality of him. He was adorable… and in no way capable of functioning as creative director right now. I needed to get him home.

Damn it. My shattered broken heart was trying to knit itself back together just so it could fall for him all over again.

I hooked my pinky around his and tried not to fall in love with the idiot when he pressed his lips to our joined fingers.

Nights like these changed lives and were retold as stories for years to come. But I didn’t know what my story would be. Would it be the time the up-and-coming designer made me temporarily semi-famous? Or would it be the night I finally realized my heart belonged to a man I was never going to be with?

Tacos and home renovation supplies with an entrepreneur, a male exotic dancer, and a drag queen on her day off. Just another glamorous day in the life.

I spent the rest of the day on the couch, which delighted Brownie. We watched the entire first season of The Great British Baking Show and then three episodes of Queer Eye. I was inspired to order and to eat an entire sponge cake from the bakery three blocks over and pondered growing a beard. Then I pondered what Ally thought about beards. And the shame spiral began again.

“I’m not hiding this,” Dom said quietly. “I don’t think I could even if you asked me.” Okay, coming from Dominic Russo, maybe that was kind of a swoony thing to say. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was real. These feelings felt real.

“I don’t need to be saved.” Dalessandra and I blinked at each other as the words came out of both our mouths in unison.

I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to take her worries and concerns and problems and solve every last one of them so she could focus all of her attention on me. And Brownie of course. I wasn’t a completely selfish monster.

I didn’t want her drawing lines when I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to redraw them properly. She would live here. She would have anything and everything she needed. No one would ever take advantage of her or lay a hand on her ever again. End of fucking story. I was her Prince Fucking Charming.

“Dom, of course people are going to talk. Trying to avoid being a topic of conversation is a pretty lame way to live life. Sometimes, accepting the discomfort is how good things are earned.”

It was disconcerting to wake up one day and find myself… well. Here. Making plans for two instead of one. Looking forward to sharing things like beds and weekends and closet space. I’d dated before. But I’d never gotten this deep, this fast. I’d never made space in my home for a woman before. Change was happening, and I didn’t know how I felt about it.

Ally didn’t bitch-slap, but Faith did it like it was an Olympic sport and she was a gold medalist.

“Everyone has baggage, Russo. Most of us are just smart enough not to hurl full-sized suitcases at the people we love.”

But sometimes an inch might as well be a mile. And I didn’t know how to cross it. I didn’t know how to ask him for what I needed. Because I didn’t know what I needed.

#by a thread #lucy score #romance #adult romance #romance books #love #office romance #grumpy boss #enemies to lovers #books #book quotes #quotes #book blog #booklr #book post

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lvehui · 4 years

Text

late night thoughts - hong jisoo

genre: this was so fluffy but so angsty??? like???

In which Y/N wonders if she and Joshua will last.

(inspired by that one meme that's like, "hey do you like me?" and the guy responds, "honey, we're married" and the other meme that's like, "you like me?" and the guy, who is literally proposing, says, "take a wild guess.")

this one is for anyone who constantly brings themselves down.

word count: basically 1.9k. could've been more if i added more to the imagery than like, the emotion of the piece (which is heavy, by the way). i'll edit it to make it better later.

After binge-watching all three seasons of Stranger Things and sharing an entire tub of Neapolitan ice cream --- which was probably very unhealthy, by the way--- Y/N and Joshua finally decided to slip under a cozy, warm blanket and call it night, right where they were on the couch. Their bedroom was only a few feet away from them, but they both had been too comfortable being in each other's arms to even consider sleeping in it.

With his right arm wrapped around Y/N's waist, he had pulled her into his chest and buried his face into the crook of her neck. It wasn't long before her boyfriend fell asleep in that position, leaving Y/N alone in her thoughts.

As cliche as it sounded, she wondered how she had gotten so lucky, meeting the love of her life in a coffee shop. If she hadn't decided to make a detour from her usual route to work and fetch a double-shot espresso to wake herself up, things would be different. Joshua would've been swept off his feet by another girl and Y/N would've been having another one-night stand with her insatiable ex-boyfriend. Yet, there she was, at home in Joshua's loving embrace, and honestly, she didn't know where she'd be without him.

Despite not wanting to think about it, she often imagined her unimaginable life without Joshua. Sure, their relationship made her feel more than complete, but the likelihood of him losing interest in her, falling out of love with her, and eventually leaving her overshadowed all the good. Before she knew it, she was breaking her own heart, like the anxious and overwhelmed baby she was.

"Hey, love?" she whispered.

Joshua moved a little before he hummed, "Yeah?"

"Do you still like me?" Her fingers twiddled as she waited for a response, already feeling awkward and dumb for asking such a question.

Another hum. "Take a wild guess." He was probably talking with his eyes closed because she sensed sleepiness in his answer. "Y/N, look at us right now. We're spooning on this small ass couch, we eat from the same spoon, and live together. On top of that, I don't think I can go a day without kissing you all over. If I wasn't such a broke Millenial, you'd have a ring on your finger by now."

A shade of pink spread across her cheeks, then all over her entire body. But then that fuzzy feeling was set aside by insecurity. "Really?"

"Really," Joshua easily replied. "Do you doubt me?"

The answer was yes, but it didn't pass her rosy lips.

"Y/N," he murmured, quietly, but not quietly enough to stifle the natural sweetness in his voice. "What's wrong?"

Subconsciously, her body scooted further into his lean frame. Even though there was no gap between the couple and Joshua wasn't going anywhere any time soon, Y/N needed to be closer to put herself at ease. (Or at least she'd try.)

"Nothing, really," she quickly lied, attempting to cover up her abysmal mood. Then she joked, "Maybe it's just the lactose getting to me?"

Joshua removed his left hand from Y/N's waist and brought it to her long, black hair, gently pushing some of it behind her ear. "Perhaps," he mused, entertaining the possibility, even though he saw right through her. There was a slight pause, in which he simply stroked her hair, before adding, "Or maybe its something else and you're just afraid to tell me?"

"Maybe it is," she mumbled, a tiny, defeated pout following. "But it isn't a big deal." Then, "I mean, it is, to me, but like... you know, it shouldn't be a big deal, and my mind is just going into overdrive for reasons that I don't want to tell you because I don't want to scare you off and---"

"Hey, hey, hey," Joshua told her. "This isn't me telling you that your feelings aren't valid, but slow down, calm down, and look at me. Please."

Y/N shifted her weight and turned to face her boyfriend, whose expression was full of seriousness and concern. It made her question what she looked like in his eyes, not just then, but every day. (And also, was it messed up of her to think about how ethereally beautiful he was in these circumstances?)

"I just... I was just thinking about how great life is with you, and how much I cherish you, and how absolutely devastated I'd be if we broke up," Y/N revealed in a low voice.

For a brief moment, a mix of surprise and sadness flashed across Joshua's face, until his brows furrowed in confusion. "You think I want to break up with you?"

She shook her head and waved her hands, furiously. "N-no! No, I don't! And I never want to break up with you," Y/N promised him, reassuringly. Once she collected a few short breaths, that same insecure feeling returned to her. "...but you could always want to."

"Want to what?"

His question caused Y/N to avoid his eyes. "You might not want to break up with me now... You might love me now... But that can always change, is what I mean," she explained, feeling stupider by the minute. "Like, you see people fall in and out of love all the time. They think that they're going to want each other forever until they don't. They lose interest in one another. They fall for someone else. They realize that the person they're with isn't the one."

She continued, "And I'm not saying any of that is wrong. I rather break things off than stay with someone because I've invested so much of my life in being with them. So if you ever wanted to leave me because you're unhappy, then I'd support it."

And suddenly, tears began to prick the corners of her eyes. "But even though I'd support it, it'd break my heart, you know? And I was just thinking about how likely it would be for you to break up with me because I'm lacking in so many areas." A snot-nose laugh came out of her mouth. "Like the common sense department, the talent department, the humor department... and especially the beauty department."

Gingerly, she pinched the sleeve of his hoodie and restrained herself from breaking down. "I guess I'm just wondering when you're going to come to your senses and be done with me."

Silence hung in the air, distancing the two even though they practically shared the same air. Y/N's eyes focused on Joshua's chest, boring into the gray material. It was then she realized that maybe, in her heart of hearts, she wanted Joshua to come to his senses because he deserved a better girl than her.

Joshua slid his arm out from under her, so he could bring both of their hands together, with his over hers. With a firm, yet tender squeeze, he admitted, "I've thought about you leaving me before, as well as whether or not we're meant to last."

Her widened eyes could meet his. Genuine surprise and curiosity were written all over her delicate features. "You have?"

"More or less." A sad smile graced his face, highlighted by the moonlight seeping through the cracks of their window. "If I had a list of irrational fears, that one would be number one."

Joshua's genuineness caused her to look down at his chest again, not knowing how to feel about his response. On one hand, it made her feel shy and giddy, but on the other, it made her ashamed for being worried.

"You should be more scared of spiders or something," is all she said. "Don't waste your biggest fear on me."

"It's not a waste," he replied, shaking his head. "It keeps me going. It's the reason why I strive to be the best boyfriend. Just because I have you, doesn't mean I can't lose you, so I've vowed to treat every day of our relationship like it could be the last."

He continued, filling up the empty spaces within their conversation. "And It's true that people fall out of love. That's why break-ups and divorce exist," he told her. "So I get why you're working yourself up about the possibilities. It's because of the very fact that the chance of things going wrong exists."

Her boyfriend was right--- even though their relationship was going well, Y/N had allowed herself to become overwhelmed by her self-insecurities and the sheer possibility of breaking up.

She felt herself begin to crack. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize!" he told her, coming off more upset than he meant to. After a moment, he simply sighed, before using one hand to cradle her pale, tear-stained cheek. "Everyone gets scared. Everyone overthinks. You're not the only one, okay? It's natural."

His thumb wiped away one of her dewy teardrops while small hiccups bubbled in her chest. "I can't blame you for doing any of those things, because I do them too," he told her. "But if we allow our worries to consume us, then we'd be self-sabotaging ourselves, not able to enjoy the moment because we're too busy thinking about the future mess-ups, you know?"

She nodded.

"Mess ups will come, but as long as our love is strong, they will go," he reassured her. "And I know our love is strong. I know we can do anything. And I know that I aim to spend the rest of my life with you, despite any obstacle we may encounter, and nothing is going to stop me from doing that."

Joshua tilted her chin upward so that he could see her entire face. "That being said... I'm wholeheartedly willing to take those chances because I love you, and everything about you, from the way you snort when you laugh, to the way you cry every time someone dies in an anime."

"Hey!" One of her tiny fists weakly hit his shoulder in embarrassment, but his comment made sent a not-so-subtle shade of pink to her cheeks. She tried to appear mad by scrunching her eyebrows together, to no avail. "Asshole."

"Seriously," Joshua said. "I love you. You're all I see." He took her hand, the one he had been holding for the longest time, and put it over the upper right side of his chest. His heartbeat wasn't rapid, but it was steadily pounding away, letting go of its inhibitions. "I want us to be together..."

"Forever," she finished, clearing her face of snot and salty tears. A smile peeked through her sweater paws. "Yeah... I know."

Finally, the bitter cold that had been cast throughout the air was thawed by the warmth of their hearts. It was soon after their conversation that they had fallen asleep, both of them this time, with Y/N snuggled in Joshua's arms, right where she was supposed to be.

She knew that there were no guarantees and there was the possibility of things going wrong, and hell, her insecurities would always be there, but that night, she fell asleep to utter feeling of being loved, basking in the present, but dreaming of the beautiful future ahead of them.

#seventeen fanfic #fanfic #svt #hong jisoo #hong joshua #svt joshua #seventeen #please comment im begging you bro #jiang writes!

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danfanciesphil · 5 years

Text

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

Ao3 Link

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty (Final Chapter!) *NSFW*

[Three Months Later]

‘...on Friday, Philip Lester (formerly Novokoric) spoke at the Refuge Centre for Domestic Abuse Victims, where he opened up about his own experience with emotional marital abuse. Since his scandalous divorce from Sir Nikolai Novokoric of Switzerland, Lester has become a dedicated philanthropist, using his notoriety which arose during the controversial coverage of the split to spread awareness about domestic abuse, LGBTQ+ discrimination, homelessness, poverty, and many other important global issues. This Tuesday, Lester is expected to appear at the United Nations conference to discuss Third World Poverty…’

The folding seat beside Dan’s is wrenched down, and a young woman with badly-dyed pink hair plops into it, holding a Starbucks cup and an Urban Outfitters tote bag stuffed with books and papers. Dan lowers the lid of his laptop to shift some of his stuff out of the way of her feet.

“Is it just me or does it get more rammed in here every week?” the girl says. Dan stares at her in mild dismay; usually he projects such a cold, unfriendly aura that nobody dares sit within two seats of him. He’s seen this girl in a few classes before, but he can only barely remember her name. It’s something like Ramona, or Rowena... Or maybe it’s neither. She turns to Dan, brandishing a strong, confident smile. “I’m Roshina.” Ah. Neither. “You’re Dan, right? The guy who dropped out and then... dropped in again.”

She tips her head back and cackles for a second, then begins pulling various things out of the tote bag. Dan grimaces, staring at the little cacti prints decorating the bag. What is it with hipster girls and succulents?

Whilst he’s not thrilled that he’s apparently earned a reputation amongst the student body as the notorious failed quitter, he hasn’t the energy to challenge her on it.

“Guess so,” he replies in a mutter.

He opens his laptop again, hoping it might signal to her that he’s busy, and not up for a conversation. Of course, every line of the article is like having someone plunge a fresh, thin needle into his chest, slowly stitching the word ‘fool’ into his skin. But his need for information about Phil is as urgent as his need for water. He can’t look away.

“Ooh, I love that guy,” Roshina says, leaning in towards Dan to read the article as well. She leans her elbow on the back of his seat, the coffee in her hand hovering close to Dan’s nose; it’s something chai-spiced. Dan recoils as subtly as he can, pressing himself into the opposite edge of the chair.

The article includes a photo of Phil behind a podium, his glasses on, wearing an impassioned expression, mouth open halfway through some dramatic statement or other.

“If I were as famous as him and I’d just, like, lost my hot rich husband,” Roshina says, loudly, right into Dan’s ear, “I’d have no shame. I’d be applying to Big Brother or Love Island. Just shows there are some blokes willing to do the decent thing after all!”

Dan cannot imagine why Roshina thinks he’d care what she might hypothetically get up to in her fantasy version of Phil’s life. He imagines Phil sneering at this girl’s audacity, saying something snippy and derisive like: ‘And if I were as vapid as you, I’d perhaps rethink my decision to pursue a career in the legal field, as it’s highly unlikely anyone’s going to hire a solicitor with bubblegum pink hair.’ It makes Dan smile, just a bit, and then in the next second, he’s back to being a bitter old maid.

“I wouldn’t give him too much credit,” Dan grumbles, eyes stuck to the photo of Phil, spewing some boring line about domestic abuse like he didn’t need to be practically dragged to his own divorce settlement by the cuff of his ear. “He’s probably getting a buttload for all these appearances.”

She snorts at him, rather loudly and obnoxiously considering this is, as far as Dan remembers, their first conversation. “Don’t you read Perez Hilton? He keeps zilch. All profits from his public appearances go to the charity he’s promoting at the time.”

Dan throat suddenly feels very dry. All profits? What’s he living on? He scrolls down the page a bit more; Roshina jabs at his screen suddenly with a short, green fingernail. She’s pointing to another article advertised at the side of this one, with the headline: ‘Give and Thou Shalt Receive: Phil Lester spotted with Possible New Man’.

“Click that one!” Roshina squeals excitedly. “It was just posted!”

Dan is about to tell Roshina in a clipped, irritable tone that he would rather pick up her fluffy pen and drive it into his eye, but she’s already batting his hand away, apparently oblivious to social etiquette. He’s trapped in his seat, forced to watch as she clicks the baiting link. A photo pops up at once, taken through an open car door, of Phil crammed into the back seat with Martyn and a ‘mystery’ person. Except it’s not a mystery-person. Not to Dan, and not to the author of this article, who has, to their credit, obviously done their homework.

Dan shifts uncomfortably as Roshina laps up the photo, eyes round and gleaming. He feels nauseous, and the smell wafting from her latte is not helping. Not that anything helps the sickness that sits at the bottom of his belly perpetually nowadays. Ever since he re-enrolled, courtesy of his doting and quietly ecstatic parents, Dan has been off food, off socialising, off anything much except sitting in his room scrolling through the endless media cycle of Phil-related articles.

“Says here this dude used to be Nikolai’s photographer!” Roshina exclaims. Dan says nothing. He doesn’t want to entertain speculative notions that just because PJ, who used to work for Nikolai, has been papped in Phil’s proximity, that it means they’re dating. Even the idea of it has Dan gripping the hard plastic of his armrest to staunch his wave of paranoia. “PJ Ligouri is a UK-based photographer that jumped ship from Nikolai’s press team alongside his former PA Cornelia Dahlgren. The latter is currently dating Martyn Lester, Phil’s older brother. Suspicions of PJ’s involvement with the younger Lester were first aroused when he was noticed photographing Phil’s appearance at last month’s Climate Change Festival-”

Dan slams the lid of the laptop closed so suddenly that Roshina squeaks, yanking her fingers away just in time. “Battery’s low,” he mutters, folding his arms across his chest. He sinks down in his seat, intending to stay that way until the lecture starts, letting the white noise of Roshina’s indignant voice keep his intrusive and unpleasant thoughts of Phil and PJ, and all the things they might be doing, at bay.

“Hey,” Martyn says, “it’s Corn for you. She wants a private word.”

Phil frowns, not looking up. “Tell her I’m the wrong brother to call for that sort of thing.”

“She says it’s pretty serious,” Martyn says, ignoring him.

Phil lets out a frustrated sigh, letting the open file he’s been reading fall to the couch cushion beside him. The Red Cross have sent him a buttload of information that he needs to know inside out before his address at the United Nations conference later today. He’s been back and forth with the Red Cross for weeks through phone calls and emails trying to get up to speed, but there’s so much to know in such a short space of time. He has to look like he’s dedicated to this project, and he is, but the UN invited him last minute - he hasn’t had a lot of time to prepare.

He’ll have even less time if Cornelia keeps pestering him about schedules and meetings or whatever this is about. Of course, despite her constant bothering, Phil would lick the soles of her comfortable-but-cool sneakers to keep her around. She’s a scarily good Press Agent, Phil has no idea how Martyn ever took her on back when they were rivals. They work much better as a team, sharing the role for Phil on a voluntary basis, whilst working a few other part-time jobs.

“Something about a girl with blue hair?” Martyn prompts, and Phil’s heart skips.

“Hand it over.”

“Say please to your big brother,” PJ scolds from the other end of the couch, though he doesn’t look away from his phone screen, which he’s been Skyping his girlfriend on for the past half hour. He angles the phone at Phil, pulling his headphones out of the jack; Sophie’s round, sweet face fills the screen. “Soph, tell him to use his manners. You’re a lady.”

“Use manners,” Sophie says, then pulls up her nostrils to look like a snout. “But I’m no lady.”

Phil smiles at her, but his heart is pounding too violently to give her a proper response. He holds his hand out for the phone in Martyn’s hand instead. PJ plugs his headphones back in, voice lowering.

“Hey, Corn,” Phil says as soon as the phone is against his ear. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Cornelia says, then clears her throat. She’s not diving straight in to whatever she has to say, so Phil immediately knows this is a sensitive topic. He stands from the uncomfortable sofa he’s sat on, moving over to the window, as far away from Martyn and PJ as he can get in this tiny room. “So, Mona Kemp just contacted me. You remember her? From The Secret of the Alps hotel.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yes, I remember the manager of my prison cell, funnily enough.”

She clears her throat again. “Right. Yeah. Well, apparently they’ve just rented out your suite for the first time since you left.”

Phil waits, but Cornelia seems to need prompting. “Uh huh…”

“And the new guests, um, found something.”

The tiny workers controlling Phil’s brain are suddenly thrown into uproar, frantically combing through his memory for any inkling of what incriminating item he might have left in that godforsaken place. His jaw clenches so hard he can feel a twitch, but he stoically stares through the glass pane to hide his panic from the other people in the room.

“Oh?”

“It was like a… recording device?” Cornelia says, and Phil wishes he could see her in the flesh, read her expression to know how bad it is.

Although they’re both technically in the same building, the United Nations Headquarters are impossibly huge. She’s downstairs somewhere amongst the thousands of behind-the-scenes worker bees, making arrangements with press and security for the conference. It’ll be hours before she finds her way back up to this bare, lifeless green room they’ve been given use of.

His eyes flutter closed, picturing Dan, stood defiantly at the foot of a four-poster bed in his wrongly-buttoned shirt, his soft cheeks pink from exertion, spewing garbled information about a thieving girl with blue hair, and how she’d recorded him arguing on the phone.

“Mona seemed to know who’d put it there somehow, I don’t know,” Cornelia continues in a harried voice. “She said it was the daughter of some family that won a holiday up there. Anyway, obviously this device is a serious breach of privacy, and I’m sure that if you wanted to press charges-”

“What’s on it?”

“Hm?”

Phil pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, conscious of saying too much in case he alerts Martyn, who is already at maximum stress level, and probably listening right behind him. The seams of Phil’s head are bursting, still crammed with straggles of information about water filtration systems and monthly overseas school supplies. He can’t take this in right now, can’t be bothered to give an annoying fangirl brat with an inflated ego the time of day. And on top of that, he cannot listen to Cornelia pretend she hasn’t already listened to that recording, whatever it is, from start to finish.

“What’s on it, Cornelia? Don’t play dumb.”

There’s a pause; Phil looks over his shoulder and catches Martyn’s eye. He immediately tries to busy himself with meaningless tasks, neatening files and shoving PJ’s lighting equipment into the corner of the room. Phil turns back to the window, shaking his head. Martyn is just as much of a dirty snoop as his fiancé is. They’re made for each other.

At last, Cornelia speaks. She sounds like she’s moved somewhere with less people in the background. “There’s a few. They’re… mostly x-rated.”

A deep, dizzying flush sweeps down Phil’s body, and he feels his mind threatening to fold inwards on itself. Thanks to a herd of mediation and personal response trainers that Nikolai had him spend weeks with years prior, Phil is able to keep himself relatively calm. He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, and stays quiet for a minute whilst he thinks of something to say that will help the situation.

“Send the recordings to me,” Phil instructs after a moment. He keeps expecting a sudden surge of anger to well up inside of him - at the blue-haired girl, at Nikolai, at Dan, at himself even - but all that floods through him is a deep, swirling melancholy, dappled with peaks of intense regret. “And for the love of God don’t show anyone else. Especially my brother.”

“Okay, boss.”

“And tell Mona thank you for… being discreet.”

He doesn’t need to check that Mona had quickly and quietly taken the recording device down with a crisp, dismissive explanation to the new guests. He also doesn’t need to check that she hadn’t listened to them herself; Mona is an honest, rule-abiding woman, and would never dream of such a thing. He should send her a fruit basket one day. ...When he can afford fruit baskets again.

“I will,” Cornelia assures him. “What do you want to do about the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The blue-haired girl. She could have really messed things up-”

“Don’t do anything,” Phil says sternly. “She wants attention. Notoriety. Don’t give her any.”

“Got it.”

“Just send me those recordings. Then get rid of any copies you or anyone else has, for God’s sake.” He hesitates. “Perv.”

She giggles. “Sounds to me like you’re the perv, mate. Not sure I’d have let someone blindfold me on the first shag, he must’ve been really into you-”

“Fuck off, Corn,” Phil says tiredly, no venom in his voice, then hangs up.

He goes back to his case files with a weight in his chest. They’re suddenly a lot harder to take in.

The bed Phil currently calls his own is far less luxurious than the one he used to sprawl out in when he was a resident of The Secret of the Alps hotel. It’s barely even a bed, really, as it pulls out from a couch, but Phil never bothers folding it away, as he’s only ever in here to sleep. Sleep is what he should be doing right now, in fact, but there’s no way he could drift off right now, not after hearing what he’s just heard.

Phil stares at the battered play button on the audio player window that’s open on his laptop, which balances on his knee. If he clicks it again, it will be the fifth time he’s heard the final recording Cornelia sent over, which is far too many times to be reasonable. She certainly hadn’t been wrong in her description of the audio. X-rated is possibly even a little demure.

He worries his lower lip between his teeth, hand long ago having reached beneath the covers to ease some of the intense pressure between his legs. He shouldn’t click play again. The other person in this recording is long gone, and his quick exit was more than enough of a message that he doesn’t want to be found. There’s no point in torturing himself with Dan’s ghost. His... incredibly hot ghost. His fingers press more insistently against his crotch.

Just then, an email from Cornelia pings up in the corner of Phil’s screen. He whips his hand away from his pyjama trousers, feeling very weird about doing any such thing whilst his sister-in-law-to-be is contacting him. To distract himself from the urgent pulses of arousal coming from beneath the covers, he clicks the email.

From: Mona Kemp To: Cornelia Dahlgren

Fwd: Phil Lester

Dear Ms Dahlgren,

On my first attempt to send over the recordings, it appears the hotel’s rather dated computer system failed to include this final, rather short one. I’ve attached it in this email. Once I’ve confirmed you have received it, I shall dispose of the recordings altogether.

Please send Mr Lester my sincerest apologies again for the atrocious breach of privacy. I no longer have his contact information, but he is welcome to get in touch with me for a formal apology, and we would be more than happy to compensate him with a free stay whenever he might choose to return.

Sincerely,

Mona Kemp Hotel Manager of The Secret of the Alps

Upon reading the line ‘free stay whenever he might choose to return’, Phil lets out a loud snort. Poor Mona. He’ll never tell her, but he’d have to be dragged back onto that cable car kicking and screaming. Even then, he’d probably beg Kaspar to hurl him out of it before they reached the summit. He’ll see how he feels about another trip up there in a few years, perhaps with time his stint there won’t feel as traumatising.

He clicks the attached recording, readying himself for yet another auditory reminder of his sordid, expletive-riddled, excruciatingly hot fling with Dan. There’s a crackle as it begins playing, and Phil turns up the volume, straining to hear anything more than a few vague rustles. This doesn’t sound like the other recordings. Perhaps the device had just picked up Phil talking in his sleep or something.

And then, he hears Dan’s voice. “Phil?” It’s quiet, but clear as a bell. “Phil.”

Phil sucks in a breath. It’s not that three months have wiped the memory of Dan’s voice from his mind, but when he hears it echo through his eardrums, it’s usually the words he spat in that last argument, when he’d announced he was leaving, as if Phil wouldn’t give a damn. He hasn’t thought of Dan’s softer, sweeter voice in some time. He’d forgotten how Dan could sound, at times, without the strain of lust or fury warping his vocal chords.

Then there comes a muffled ‘thump’, followed by a grunt of pain.

“Wha?” Phil’s voice says.

Phil clicks pause and checks the timestamp for the recording. It reads 02:01am on 14th April. That’s the day Dan left. Early in the morning. How come he can’t remember this?

His heart thuds, coming to the gradual realisation that he’s listening to a conversation he’s never heard before. One he never even knew had taken place. Had Dan come to say goodbye to him after all? Has Phil been living under the impression that Dan had snubbed him, ran off without a word, when really…

Phil sits up straighter, turning the volume up to the highest level. He clicks play again.

“Did you watch the stream of your fave giving his rousing speech at the UN?” Roshina asks as she settles herself into the seat beside Dan’s again.

Silently, Dan begs her to sit literally anywhere else, but her mind is apparently closed to telepathy. He wonders if she’d believe he’s suddenly been struck totally deaf. Unlikely, but it might be worth a try if it meant he didn’t have to talk about Phil again today; he’s only just stopped crying for long enough intervals to make it to class.

“Yeah, uh, think I saw some clips on Twitter,” Dan replies, aiming for the sweet spot between vague and already-up-to-speed.

In truth, he watched it start to finish, at 1am because of the time difference, hunkered over his laptop in bed, tears streaming down his face.

“God, wasn’t he marvellous?” she sighs, hauling a load of books and pens she won’t use out of her tote again. Yes, he was. “He can hold a room for sure. I think it’s ‘cause you can tell he’s passionate about this. ” She grins at him. “Or maybe it’s because of his deep, sexy voice. D’you think?”

Dan stares back at her, wondering if she genuinely expects him to respond with words. “Uh...”

Luckily, she doesn’t seem too bothered about Dan agreeing. She pulls out her phone and begins cycling through her social media apps with the concentration of an atomic physicist. “Oh look,” Roshina exclaims just when Dan thought he might get a moment of peace, “our man is trending.”

Dan digs his fingernails into his palm. Don’t look. Just don’t look. “Can I see?” he asks, hating himself.

She angles her phone at him. There are two hashtags pertaining to Phil. The first is #AmazingPhil. The second is #PhilsUNSpeech. Roshina clicks the first, and scrolls slowly down a timeline of people enthusing about Phil’s fiery yet intelligent speech which he gave at the United Nations headquarters yesterday afternoon, about the poverty crisis in several African countries. He seems to have really knocked it out of the park, judging by the response he’s getting. Dan drinks the raining compliments down greedily, trying to glean, selfish though it may be, what Phil’s mental state might be right now, in reaction to all the sudden attention directed his way. One particular tweet catches his attention.

@nikolaischmikolai: saw #amazingphil at the airport after the conference! such a cool guy, didnt get a selfie cos he was in a hurry to get his flight but he signed my ticket with a Muse quote! #inspiration

Back at the airport, Dan notes. Already jet-setting off to his next glamorous public appearance. It won’t take long until people start throwing money at him for all this ‘charity work’. They’ll give him a Netflix documentary series, or a book deal, or any of the other wank that just gets handed to celebrities.

“Lucky guy, seeing him IRL. I wonder what he’s like in person,” Roshina ponders, scrolling through more tweets.

“An emotionally stunted, obnoxious adrenaline junkie with no filter on the silver spoon stuck in his gob,” Dan mutters, before realising he said that slightly too loud. Roshina is staring at him oddly. He shrugs, pinkening. “I imagine, anyway.”

Thankfully, before Roshina can respond, Professor Warren calls the class to attention, flicking the PowerPoint to the title page, which reads, ‘Marital Dissolution: The Litigation of Separation and Divorce’. The irony is stifling.

Sleep is closing in on Dan from all sides. He’s trying to resist the urge to slip into blissful unconsciousness, but Professor Warren’s baritone voice is making it so difficult to stay alert. His eyelids sag, then shut entirely. It’s just as the waves of promised unconsciousness are beginning to draw him out into that sweet, deep void that the door of the lecture hall opens with its hideous squeak. Dan frowns, inching down further in his uncomfortable chair to try and get away from the noise.

“Excuse me,” a loud, plummy voice calls, interrupting Professor Warren mid-flow. Dan frowns harder; the voice is instantly grating, as if it knows to burrow straight beneath Dan’s skin. It skims along the shores of his half-dream, splashing through the shallows in the distance, but Dan is too far out to be reached. “Is Dan Howell in this class?”

Dan’s eyes snap open.

“Young man, I am in the middle of a lecture!” Professor Warren replies in his gruff, incredulous voice, the one he uses in seminars to pick on students who haven’t done the reading. Dan’s been on the receiving end of this voice rather too often. “I must insist that you wait outside until-”

“I’m sorry, Professor, but this can’t wait,” the voice says, even louder. “Dan Howell? Dan, are you in here?”

A slight Northern tinge is detectable beneath the upper-class overtones. Chills course down Dan’s arms. This cannot be happening. He sneaks a glance at Roshina; her mouth is a round, pink circle, eyes bugged out so far it looks almost cartoonish. He looks left and right, noting that several people are also turning his way, alight with excitable intrigue. It’s no use. He’s going to have to confront this... situation. Dan sits up just enough that he can peer through the shoulders of the people in front of him, to the short flight of stairs that lead up to the lecture hall door.

It’s beyond surreal, to take in the sight of Phil, here, in this dingy light-less hall, looking exactly the same as ever, but somehow startlingly different. He feels as though the image of him has smacked sharply into the back of his head. In the next moment, Dan realises that Roshina has literally smacked him.

“You know him?!” she hisses, incensed. “Why didn’t you say?”

Phil lets out a suffering sigh that makes Dan’s teeth grit together. He’s gazing out across the rows of students as if he were surveying his Kingdom. Dan hunches over, trying to hide. There must be a hundred people in here, thank heavens. Suddenly, Roshina has her green-taloned claw on his upper arm; she hauls him up with surprising strength, though he does his best to struggle free.

“Dan,” Phil calls out a second time to the general room, ignoring the fact that Professor Warren looks to be on the verge of spontaneous combustion, “I kind of know you’re in here. Could you just… I need to talk to you.”

Dan swallows, feeling the back of his neck prickle from how many eyes are on him now. Phil isn’t wearing his glasses; perhaps he’s blinder than Dan assumed he was, as Roshina now has him in a vice grip, ensuring he stays bolt upright in the chair.

“It’s just dawned on me who you are, young man,” Professor Warren says then, cold, “and I’m sure in your world this kind of disruptive behaviour is tolerated. But this is an academic setting, not a press interview. Please leave my lecture. You may speak with whomever you like in an hour.”

“Dan, I know you’re in love with me,” Phil says, with a sweet, butter-wouldn’t-melt smile. “I think we should talk about that, maybe.”

Cheeks furiously flaming, Dan looks down at his folding desk covered in meagre study tools for some kind of murder weapon. The best he has is a laptop charger, which he might be able to fashion into some kind of lasso and choke Phil from afar if he really tried. Stifled snickers erupt behind people’s hands, and practically everyone is staring at him now. With little other option, Dan shoots to his feet, stuffing everything in his bag. He doesn’t give Phil the satisfaction of meeting his eye, but as he’s finally shut his gob, Dan reckons the dickhead has spotted him at last.

Bag slung over one shoulder, Dan forces his way past Roshina’s fishnet-wrapped knees, then past a few other amused students to the aisle. He stalks down the stairs as quickly as possible, head down. He can sense Professor Warren’s disapproving glare on him; this little stunt will not earn him any favours, and he’s already on the Prof’s list of ne’er-do-wells. Once he begins the climb of stairs towards the hall doors, Dan finally lifts his head to aim his icy expression at the infuriating human that has inexplicably decided to saunter in and humiliate Dan like no time at all has passed. The corner of Phil’s mouth is lifted just a tad. Dan had honestly forgotten, what with all the heartache, just how punchable he is.

He says nothing, just grabs Phil by the upper arm and marches him up the remainder of stairs, then through the doors. Once they’re outside the lecture hall, which opens directly onto the main outdoor campus, Dan lets go of Phil like he’s burning, and strides across the tarmac, feeling the burn of mortification stinging him from all sides. Of course it’s raining, Dan thinks as he walks, the scent of rain-soaked concrete misting the air.

It’s not long before he hears footsteps hurrying after him. “Dan, wait!”

Furious, Dan stops in his tracks and whirls around. “What are you doing here?”

Phil comes to an abrupt halt in front of him, eyes round. He blinks at Dan, mouth parted; for a moment, Dan is equally dumbstruck. Seeing him so close, after months of only glimpsing him through a screen, is disconcerting. Was he always this stunning? Did Dan really somehow grow used to the vivid, swirling blue of his eyes?

“I… could ask you the same question,” Phil says after a while.

The annoying non-answer immediately slaps Dan back from gooey-ville. He gives Phil a withering look. “I’m a student here.”

“Thought you dropped out.”

Dan grits his teeth again. How is it that Phil always knows to pick at the very knots Dan doesn’t want to unravel?

“Well, I dropped in again.” He folds his arms across his chest. To his utter dismay, a smattering of the students milling around the campus plaza have begun to look up from their phones and tablets. There’s a lot of pointing and murmuring going on, presumably because ‘Amazing Phil’ has appeared out of the blue to fight with some normie. “Why’d you have to announce to the entire hall that I’m ‘in love’ with you?” Dan demands, pointedly using air quotes to convey the ridiculousness of that concept. “I have to finish out the year with the people in there.”

“Actually, you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t start.”

“What?”

“Don’t start with the whole ‘you gave up on giving up’ thing. I know, okay? I’m back exactly where I was before we met, hating every aspect of my life. But we can’t all be famous charitable heartthrobs.”

Phil smirks, his lowered eyelashes catching tiny droplets of rain. “Heartthrob?”

“Oh my God,” Dan says, one hand coming to his damp forehead, “what do you want?”

An actual crowd of people is forming around them, seemingly oblivious to the fact they’re all steadily getting soaked. Dan wants rather badly to bolt far away from this spot. But that would mean leaving Phil behind, again, and annoyed though he is, he just can’t wrench himself away a second time, not when he’s only just reappeared. Phil shifts, pulling his smart jacket tighter, eyeing the people gathering around them. Several of them have unsubtly pulled out their phones to film this exchange.

“I had this dream,” Phil says, inexplicably.

“That’s great, Martin Luther King,” Dan says dryly, “I’m sure your doting fans would love to hear all about it, so just look into one of these nice people’s lenses and remember to speak clearly-”

“I had this dream that you crawled into bed with me,” Phil interrupts, continuing as if Dan hadn’t spoken. An eruption of titters spills from their group of onlookers; Dan has to close his eyes and breathe to stop himself from stepping forwards and kicking Phil in the kneecap. “In the middle of the night. And you asked me to give you a reason to stay with me.”

Immediately, the backs of Dan’s eyes strain and ache, pushing tears into his ducts. He wills the rain to fall harder, to disguise his reaction in case he can’t keep the tears from spilling over.

“And in my dream,” Phil continues, “I couldn’t think of a reason. I just thought... you must already know how much I like you. I’d told you so many times that you were constantly on my mind. I’d done stupid, reckless things to be with you for just a few hours. I’d left my husband. But there you were, in my dream, asking me for something more. I couldn’t understand what it was you wanted me to say. I didn’t have anything left. Nothing I could think of that might stop you leaving.”

The rain is soaking through Dan’s t-shirt, sticking it to his skin. He shivers, trying to let the alien words fold into his drizzled, muddy mind.

“It’s too late for this,” Dan points out, toeing the tarmac with the tip of his trainer, watching the light grey slabs slowly pinpricking with dark circles. “And it was just a dream, like you said.”

“I’ve thought of a reason, though.”

Dan’s eyes lift. He wants to say he doesn’t care, that their brief attempt to grasp at the wisp of some connection that sparked between them was doomed from the start. The chance has passed them by - they’re no longer up a mountain with only each other for company, they’re back in the gritty rainy reality of their starkly different lives.

But he also aches, body and soul, to know that reason. The thing Phil never said, that Dan has imagined him saying every day since. God help him, he yearns to hear it more than he yearns for oxygen in his next breath. So he says nothing, lips pressing tight.

“I was really lonely,” Phil says, grimacing as a fat raindrop strikes his pale cheek. “I spent three years in a far off retreat nobody knew about, cut off from everything I’d known. The cold of that place, along with the isolation... I think it seeped into my bones. I just went numb. I forgot how to feel anything.”

Dan looks away, casting his gaze around the people on the periphery of this strange conversation, all of them listening intently, so ready for some dramatic story to add to their social media timeline.

“And then you came,” Phil says, apparently oblivious to the entourage. “Like you’d been flung up the mountain by mistake. You had no more clue why you were there than anyone else. And you were so…” he heaves a sigh, running fingers through damp, dark hair. “So fucking annoying.”

A ripple of laughter goes up around them; Dan chokes out a cough of indignation. “Isn’t this supposed to be a reason you wanted me to stay?”

Phil smiles, showing the barest hint of teeth. “You got on every single one of my nerves. It was like you’d specifically been planted there to piss me off. Everything about you was just… so frustrating.”

Dan cocks a suggestive eyebrow, because it’s decidedly his turn to embarrass Phil after the many things he’s inferred about Dan so far. On camera. “There were occasions where Louise had to pull me aside and cool me off so I wouldn’t beat you with your ski pole. So don’t think it was one-sided.”

“But that’s just it,” Phil says, taking a teensy step closer. Dan’s backpack strap is sodden, and his face is misted with moisture, but he can’t seem to make himself move an inch, because Phil - god damn him - looks fucking incredible all wet, in a Mr Darcy-emerging-from-the-lake sort of way. “You made me feel things again. Sure, most of the feelings were anger and exasperation, but it was still better than the void that was there before.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say. This is all so romantic,” Dan says scornfully; their audience titters, and Dan feels a small surge of pride that this time they’re laughing with him. “Are you getting to some kind of point?”

“Yeah,” Phil says, laughing. “I was so alone, and I owe you so much.”

Dan snorts, turning on his heel. Enough. “That’s a line from Sherlock, you dick-”

“Hey, I’m fucking about, I can do better,” Phil pleads, grabbing his arm. Dan thinks about pulling away, but he settles for just turning to glare some more, very aware of Phil’s touch, how his warm, wet fingers feel even through the soggy material of his t-shirt. “How about…”

Phil is really close to him now, his deep thinking cutting a crease between his brows. The rain has deflated his quiff, making it stick to his forehead. Somehow, even with a makeshift emo fringe, he looks infinitely radiant. Dan imagines that in comparison, he resembles a drowned rat, his hair frizzed and unattractive, and it’s all being caught on film, which is fantastic. Phil drops his voice to a murmur, presumably so it can’t be picked up by people’s shitty phone mics.

“Arguing with you every day, up in the heavens of fucking nowhere…” Phil shrugs, smiling. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had.”

A droplet spills from Dan’s left eye, and he wipes it away, furious with himself for allowing it to leak out. “Wow,” he chokes out. “You must have been really bored up there.”

Phil nods, eyes trained on Dan’s traitorous smile. “Is that... your way of saying you don’t hate my guts?”

Dan feels himself tense. Phil’s hand is still on his arm, and his thumb strokes gently over the damp skin just below his sleeve. “You know I can’t provide you with, like, champagne or- or um, suites in fancy hotels or…”

He trails off, because he’s allowed himself to look into Phil’s eyes properly for the first time; they really are so many separate shades of blue. There must be dozens of colours in their depths. He’d have a job naming them all.

“I’ll settle for the occasional kiss between battles,” Phil replies.

Dan splutters softly, cheeks warm against the shivering rest of his body. His eyes flit to their audience, several of whom have their hands over their hearts and mouths.

“Not here,” Dan replies, taking a hasty step backwards. “Let’s, uh,” he glances around for a break in the crowd, “let’s go somewhere… less here.”

He turns before Phil can answer, pushing through a throng of camera-faced people, letting Phil find his way to catch up. They get halfway across the campus main square before Phil says coolly, “not to ruin the theatricality of this moment, but where are we going?”

Dan looks at him, then stops in his tracks. Crap. “Y-you can’t come back to mine.” He blushes, fidgeting. “I’m… living with my parents. At the moment.”

“Hmm,” Phil says, dithering. “Not ideal.”

“Where are you staying?”

Phil hesitates, and Dan has to prod him in his damp ribs to make him answer aloud. He sighs eventually. “Susan.”

Dan’s eyebrows shoot towards the rainclouds above them. “Your plane?”

“Yeah. S’all I’ve got to my name right now, pretty much.”

Dan nods, considering this for all of about five seconds. He can already sense that they’re beginning to be followed. Dan grabs Phil by the wrist. “She’ll do.”

Considering what a smooth, relaxed pilot Phil is, Dan is genuinely baffled by how terrifying he is as a driver. Phil has parked Susan on some farmland about two miles from campus; the owner of the plot had recognised Phil’s plane when he’d landed it in the local airport and practically jumped at the chance to offer him a place to stow it - presumably to earn himself some bragging rights for bestowing his hospitality on a semi-celebrity.

This suspiciously good samaritan also gave Phil use of his truck for the day, as the farm is in the middle of nowhere, and Phil needed a way to get to Dan’s university campus. The truck is an old, squeaky thing caked in mud; as far as keeping a low profile goes it does a grand job, but it doesn’t reek of safety. For most of the journey, Dan is clutching the ceiling handle, shrieking whenever another car comes the other way as Phil careers them down narrow country lanes at sixty miles per hour.

Eventually, after Dan has come worryingly close to crapping his pants, they reach the field where Phil’s plane is sat, less shiny than Dan remembers her, but just as intimidating. The rain is easing up, but it’s left the green countryside dripping and muddy; Dan is not particularly looking forward to trekking across the wet grass.

“I’m literally never getting in a car with you again,” Dan states vehemently, legs shaking as he steps out of the truck.

“Wimp,” Phil says dismissively, slamming his door closed. The sound echoes around them, bouncing off the trees that fringe the field. “I’m just a little rusty. There’s less traffic in the sky.”

As his heart settles back into its normal rhythm, Dan shuts his own door and follows Phil across the grass to the plane. Phil presses a button as they approach and a short set of steps protrude in a neat glide from Susan’s door.

“Missed you, babe,” Phil says, hopping onto the first step before it’s completely extended.

Dan blanches, nearly slipping on a patch of wet grass. “Uh, what?”

Phil looks over his shoulder, amusement coating his expression. “I’m talking to Susan.”

“Oh. Yeah. I- I know.”

Phil laughs and ducks inside the plane. Dan looks around at the vast, endless fields that surround them, startlingly green and lush from the burst of rainfall. There’s nothing for miles aside from a tiny farmhouse in the distance; they’re alone together again. It’s a different kind of deserted expanse to the snow-covered mountains, but a familiar sense of isolation hovers in the air.

Susan’s sleek interior has changed since Dan saw it last. For one thing, what little floor space had been at the back of the plane has been largely taken up by a pull-out bed. It’s unmade, the covers rucked and creased, which in the cramped area makes the whole place look messy. Phil shimmies around the bed to a what looks like the counter of a small bar, opening a neat pull-out contraption that reveals a sink. There’s a kettle too, which Phil holds under the faucet.

“Uh, so you live here? Permanently?”

Phil nods.

“Jesus,” Dan mutters, toeing the empty red bull can on the floor near the bed. “Quite the fall from grace. How are you coping without 24-hour maid service?”

“S’not so bad,” Phil says with no apparent hint at insincerity. He kneels on the bed and leans over to grab the red bull can, which he then throws into the bin, rather stylishly. “At least here I’m not in debt to anyone.”

“So you own the plane, then?”

Dan sits gingerly on the bed, mainly because there is nowhere else to sit apart from the two seats in the cockpit, and he can’t even look in that direction without blushing. It seems both long ago and entirely too recent that he was sat there with Phil knelt before him, high above the peaks of the Swiss mountains. He seems to remember, from his last visit, more seating in the back here, but as he studies the bed he’s perched on, he realises that this is the seating, folded out into a small double bed.

“Yeah,” Phil replies, pouring boiling water into mugs. “Nikolai let me have this and the ring.”

Dan’s eyebrows raise. “You’d think he could’ve spared a couple of… million.”

“I’m glad he didn’t, actually. It would’ve detracted from my trustworthiness, I think.”

“You mean about all the charity stuff you’re doing?”

“Exactly,” Phil affirms, lifting both mugs and carefully sitting on the bed beside Dan. He hands one over, and Dan takes it. He doesn’t particularly feel like tea, but then he is wet and slightly chilly from the rain, so it will probably help chase the cold from his bones. “So.”

“So,” Dan echoes.

They lapse into silence, blowing on their scorching drinks. Eventually, Dan abandons his, knowing it will be too hot to drink for some time. He places it carefully on the shelf beside the bed. “I need to ask you something,” Dan says.

“Yes, the theories are right, I am naturally ginger.”

“What?”

Dan shakes his head. “Not... what I was gonna ask. It’s about that dream you mentioned.” He hesitates, heart squeezing tightly. “Did you... remember anything else about it?”

Strangely, Phil shifts away from him. It’s a telling movement, and even though Dan’s not been around him for some time, he’s ninety percent sure that the expression Phil’s features are forming is something like ‘sheepishness’. He squints at the older man as a gut feeling blooms that he’s going to want to throttle him within the next few minutes.

Phil swallows tightly, placing his own mug on the floor. “Well. I don’t really need to, um. Remember.”

“What d’you mean?”

Phil grimaces, seeming wary of Dan’s reaction, then reaches beneath the bed, drawing out a Macbook. “This is Martyn’s old one,” Phil says when he catches Dan’s raised eyebrow. “Nik kept mine.”

A wave of sympathy washes over Dan from head to toe, swiftly followed by a surge of anger for Nikolai Novokoric. Phil opens the Mac and clicks around a bit, then turns to Dan, clear concern dressing his face.

“So, you remember that girl? With the blue hair?”

Ten minutes later, Dan is sat in gobsmacked silence, his own confession of love reverberating through the air. No use denying it now. “That little fucker.”

Phil winces. “Yeah. Well, anyway, Mona and Cornelia destroyed all the copies.”

Dan’s eyes bulge. “Except this one!”

“Well yeah,” Phil says. His mouth twitches, and Dan zeroes in on it. “But… I reckon I’m allowed to have one.”

“Oh, do you?”

“It’s sweet.” Phil nudges him with his elbow. “And, y’know…”

“No, please enlighten me.”

“It’s… pretty hot.”

Dan’s frown deepens. “That’s a strange choice of adjective.”

“Well, maybe not the part where you bear your soul to me in a largely embarrassing midnight confession,” Phil says, so Dan hits him in the arm, “but the other recordings-”

“Other recordings?!”

Phil pauses, caught out. “Oh. Uh, yeah. From what I can gather the recording device began recording any time it picked up noise, so there are a few…”

He trails off, and Dan buries his face in his hands for a few seconds, then takes a deep inhale, straightening up. “Show me.”

“Not sure this is the best time-”

“Phil, that’s a recording of me doing a variety of explicit deeds. Fucking play it to me.”

Phil hesitates, scanning Dan’s face, then shrugs, pulls up a different recording, moves the play bar to the middle, and hits the space key.

“Kiss me,” Dan’s voice says, husky and breathless. “Kiss me and then fuck me.”

Regret, regret, regret- Dan lunges for the laptop, slamming the space bar. Unfortunately, he manages to press another key as well, and a different recording pops up. Before either he or Phil can do anything to stop it, Nikolai’s voice is pouring from the speaker.

“...my God, don’t tell me you actually top in this-”

Phil slams the lid of his laptop shut smartly, two pink spots appearing on his high cheeks. “I’ll delete these, I think.”

Dan’s fingers push into his temple, massaging the spot. “So good of you to hang onto them until now, you wanker.”

Silence falls, and for a moment the tension is taut to the point of being unbearable. Then, Dan hears a quiet, barely audible giggle. He looks at Phil, incredulous, and immediately upon seeing the creases of laughter around his glinting eyes, feels a swell of laughter bubbling up in his own chest. The tension snaps, and they let their streams of laughter spill out. Phil cards a hand through his hair, reaching for his tea again.

“Y’know,” Dan says, eyes glazed as he watches Phil’s plump, pink lips seal over the rim of his mug, “you’ve already lured me into your…” he gestures to the plane interior. “Den. Kind of redundant at this point to play it cool.”

Phil looks at him quizzically, sipping. “What do you mean?”

“Well, as you have clear, recorded evidence of my unfortunate attachment to you right there,” Dan says, stretching out on the bed a little more, settling into the familiar atmosphere of mildly absurd, irritation-fuelled hysteria, “and I willingly endured your death-defying driving skills, then followed you into your plane in the middle of nowhere, it might be a reasonable assumption that I’m, like,” Dan waves a hand in the air between them, “D.T.F.”

Phil chokes around a mouthful of tea. He places the mug down sharply, eyes wide. It makes Dan laugh, and he leans back onto his hands. As it turns out, having every last scrap of his dignity laid out before them both is rather empowering. He has nothing left to hide, no reason to be coy, and it’s now up to Phil whether he takes advantage or not. Dan really hasn’t anything else to lose, at this point, sad though that thought might be.

“I didn’t want to assume,” Phil objects, scandalised, “I’m trying to be a gentleman!”

Dan nods gravely. “By playing me audio recordings of me asking you to ‘kiss and fuck me’?”

Phil’s mouth opens, as if he’s about to retort, but at the sight of Dan’s smirk, he closes it again, a laugh escaping. “If I do one of those things now, can you pretend I waited until, y’know, a respectable amount of time had passed?”

“I could pretend I had a sudden urge to shuck off my wet clothes,” Dan suggests with a hand thrown across his forehead for emphasis; he’s enjoying the unusual sensation of having the power over this situation, and as usual when he feels even a lick of power, his theatric flair rears its head. It doesn’t matter that his heart doubled in speed as soon as Phil hinted at physical contact. “And then,” Dan continues, voice as dramatic as if he were addressing a theatre-ful of patrons, “as you’re finding me a spare shirt to cover my immodesty, you can’t help your gaze lingering on my bare skin - you try to stop yourself, but your hand reaches out of its own accord to stroke across my chest - my breath hitches, and-”

Phil dives across the bed, pinning Dan to the mattress and kissing him. “Hmm,” he mumbles into the seam of Dan’s lips, “I forgot you never shut up.”

Dan’s arms come up to wind around Phil’s neck, a zing of pure joy ricocheting through his body as his familiar weight settles on top of him.

“I haven’t forgotten that you’re ten times more tolerable to listen to when you’re naked,” Dan says, turning his head to urge Phil to kiss along his jaw. “Please comply.”

Phil chuckles, leaning up to pull his shirt off. “Better?”

A punch of air leaves Dan’s chest; his hands spread themselves over Phil’s toned stomach, re-learning the crevices either side of his belly, the smooth curvature of his hips.

“Much.” His index fingers trace the line of hair that leads from Phil’s tummy button beneath the waistband of his trousers. He pulls at the waistband impatiently. “Even better without these though, I reckon.”

Phil sits back on his haunches, positioning himself on top of Dan’s thighs. “Yeah?” he asks, already sliding the zipper down. Dan’s cock pulses, still trapped by his jeans. Phil is putting on a show, but Dan no longer has the ability to call him out on it. His eyes won’t unstick themselves from the sight of Phil shimmying his trousers down his thighs, revealing a pair of black boxer briefs so tight that they might as well be nonexistent for all they manage to conceal. “How’s this?”

Dan shoots him what he intends to be a withering look that probably doesn’t come across very menacing. “I don’t remember you being this vocal.”

Phil smiles, using Dan’s shoulder to steady himself as he peels the trousers off entirely. “Shut me up, then.”

Not needing to be told twice, Dan grabs the backs of Phil’s thighs and manoeuvres him back until he’s sprawled on his back. He pulls off his own t-shirt, getting more impatient by the minute to entwine himself in Phil as deeply as possible; he’s been starving himself of this, for months, and now he wants to feast. As soon as he’s free of his t-shirt, Dan begins pushing his lips against the miles of bare skin covering Phil’s upper body. Phil’s breathing goes strange and stuttery, and his hand loses itself in Dan’s hair.

“Fuck,” he whispers as Dan seals his mouth over a nipple, “I’ve missed you.”

“Still talking to Susan?” Dan asks with a snort, and Phil smacks him lightly in the back of the head.

“Susan doesn’t talk back nearly as much.”

In response, Dan chooses to trail a line of kisses downwards, through the valley of Phil’s pectoral muscles, over the plane of his stomach, nipping gently at that tantalising rivulet of hair slicing through his pelvic region. When he gets to the boxer briefs, he pauses, lifting his gaze as he tucks his fingertips into the waistband.

Phil makes a sort of choking noise as their eyes meet, which is pleasant to hear. “Lift,” Dan tells him, and when his hips rise, pulls them off in a flourish. Dan had thought the thick, gorgeous shape of Phil’s cock was deeply ingrained into his memory, but even the image he’d conjured up in the dead of night, when he couldn’t stop himself from indulging in nostalgia, had been lacking in the exquisite detail of reality. He takes hold of the base in one hand, letting the warm, pulsing flesh push all thought from his mind. “I missed you too,” he says, and Phil whimpers.

Dan takes his time blowing Phil, letting him glide in and out of his mouth as he lifts his head and sinks down again and again. Phil’s body slackens, sinking into the hard mattress so totally that it’s as if he hasn’t relaxed once in all the time that’s passed since they last did this. The sensation of Phil atop Dan’s tongue is comforting in its thickness, stretching his lips wide, reminding him of how it feels to be so open. He would like for Phil to know this, wants to share the intoxicating power of utter vulnerability. He pulls off, suddenly alight with an idea, and sits up, crawling over Phil’s spread body until his face hovers above Phil’s.

“You know what Nikolai mentioned,” Dan begins, testing the waters.

Instantly, Phil’s hands stop wandering over his back. “Are you seriously bringing up my ex-husband right now?”

Dan chuckles, then sweeps a tongue over his lower lip, tasting Phil there, salty and sour; Phil’s eyes fall to the movement with obvious interest.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Dan continues, determined to persevere with the thought if it could lead where he hopes it might. To soften the blow of blindsiding Phil with Nikolai’s name, Dan dots a few light kisses over his jaw. “When we… did things before. Were you just indulging me, because I suggested we try it a certain way, and it was my first time?”

Phil arches his head backwards, wordlessly encouraging Dan to move his lips to his neck. “W-what do you mean? It was always amazing with you.”

“Hmm,” Dan says, sucking gently at the spot right below Phil’s ear. “So you never wanted to do it a different way? Like…” His hand, which has been resting on Phil’s hip, trickles over his thigh, dipping into the cavern between Phil’s legs. He lets his fingers wander even lower, past the swell of his balls. He watches Phil’s face intently, trying to gauge the reaction, and presses the tip of one finger to the tight, puckered entrance at his rear. “This way?”

For the first time, Dan is able to witness the crystal blue of Phil’s irises thinning and nearly disappearing entirely, swallowed up by the black holes widening in their centres. It’s not until Dan removes his finger that Phil is able to summon a response.

“I- I don’t have much of a preference,” he whispers, stammering. “Is… is that something you’d want to try, or-”

“Phil,” Dan interrupts, feeling the smile teasing the corner of his mouth as he sees through Phil’s poor attempt at nonchalance, “do you want me to fuck you?”

Phil is quiet for a moment, but Dan holds his gaze, one eyebrow cocked, hopefully looking far more in control of himself than he feels. The elbow he’s using to hold himself up begins to tremble, threatening to give way, but he holds steady, needing to hear Phil speak the words.

Then, Phil nods, just once. “Yes.”

Dan smiles, leaning in to seal their mouths together. The eagerness with which Phil responds conveys his excitement, and Dan lets him twine their tongues together, allows Phil’s arms to draw him in around the neck. After a few minutes however, Dan’s self-control is reaching its very peak, what with Phil’s cock trapped between their bodies still, and the anticipation of what it might be like to slip inside of him lurking so tantalisingly on the horizon.

Dan unwinds himself carefully, sitting up and reaching for the button of his own jeans. “Do you have, um, stuff?”

His question prompts Phil into immediate action; he sits up, peeling himself off the bed in order to stagger over to an overhead cupboard, which he reaches up to open. Dan’s fingers stumble on the zipper of his jeans, attention ensnared by the sight of the lean, naked body in front of him, stretched out in a delicious long line of pale, pure skin, hiding terrains of thick muscle, tightened by years of diligent workouts. His cock strains against the fly of his trousers, imagining what it might be like to bury himself inside of such a temple; his fingers work frantically to open the zip. Eventually, Phil finds what he’s looking for, and throws a bottle of lube and a four condom packets onto the bed.

Dan picks a few of the foil packets up, eyebrows raised. “I’m flattered that you presume so highly of my stamina, but-”

Phil shuts him up using the method he seems to be realising is the most effective - jumping back on the bed and kissing him hard. “Thought we could take it in turns,” Phil growls into Dan’s mouth, because obviously he’s intent on driving Dan to the brink of insanity.

A strangled noise escapes Dan’s throat, and he pushes Phil backwards until he’s astride him again, back to pulling off his jeans, which thankfully goes a lot more smoothly this time. He slides his underwear off too, then reaches for the condom packet, ten steps ahead of himself; Phil’s hand on his arm makes him pause.

“Woah, uh, it’s not my first rodeo but I’m probably gonna need a little prep before-”

“Shit,” Dan mutters, throwing the condom aside for a moment. He shakes his head, blood thrumming in his ears, and smooths his hands up Phil’s gorgeous thighs. “Sorry. Okay, what do I do?”

Phil sits up, reaching for the lube, and un-pops the cap. “Want me to do it?”

Dan snatches the bottle from him. “Fuck right off.”

He pours some of the gloop onto his fingers, remembering how, when they’d done this before, Phil had warmed the substance before letting it touch his skin. He copies the action, coating his hands with it, then looking to Phil for further instruction. Phil opens his legs wider, allowing Dan to fit himself between them.

“Have you ever done this to yourself?”

“Only since you did it to me,” Dan admits before he can stop himself.

Phil grins, unsubtly conveying his thoughts around this, and Dan only barely resists the urge to flick him in the balls. “Same thing, then,” Phil says.

“Will it hurt?”

Phil eases himself back down onto his elbows. “Doubt it,” Phil answers in a soft sigh. He lets out a little moan as Dan’s fingertips press against him. “Fuck. No, I don’t think this is gonna hurt at all.”

Dan’s fingers slide into Phil as easily as if he were pushing them into warm bread dough. The walls of hot, soft muscle close in around him, drawing each finger deeper as he adds them one at a time. Phil murmurs vaguely bossy commands, telling him to scissor and stretch, but half the words are lost to his groans of bliss, each one making Dan shudder more violently than the last.

“Ugh, Dan,” he says, voice desperate despite it seeming like barely any time has passed. He has one hand wrapped around the back of his right thigh, holding it up to allow Dan better access. Dan moves closer, brushes Phil’s hand away and lets the crook of Phil’s knee drape over his shoulder. “Fuck,” Phil mutters, but doesn’t protest. “Y-you can stop now,” he urges, but Dan keeps on, wanting to be totally sure. Phil seems so tight, so impossibly tight, and whilst it is maddening to picture thrusting inside of such tightness, the thought of hurting Phil without meaning to is terrible enough to keep Dan stretching with his fingers, just in case. He changes the angle just slightly when his wrist threatens to cramp, and Phil swears, louder than he has so far. “Fff-uck. Do that again.”

Dan does do it again. He does it many more times, pressing the pads of his fingers to that same spot until Phil is writhing against the covers, until his gasps sound more like gurgles, until his hands are scrabbling at Dan’s wrist to pull his fingers free.

“Fuck, Dan please, I’m ready, I’m ready,” he garbles.

For a long moment, Dan is too hypnotised by the wrecked, flushed mess that’s become of the Adonis-like man sprawled out naked before him to react. He stares at Phil’s reddened, slick lips, puffy from where he’s been biting them.

“Dan,” Phil chokes out, desperate.

The sound of his name slaps Dan back into coherence. He pats the space around him, searching for the condom packet he’d thrown aside before. It seems to elude him for a while, but eventually he finds it, and rips the packet with his teeth. Thankfully, condoms are a part of sexual experience that he is not out of his depth with, as Beth had insisted on him using at least one, sometimes more, whenever they slept together.

He rolls it on with ease, thankful for the many opportunities he’s had to practice for this moment, and takes hold of Phil by the hips, dragging him forwards with a sharp tug, until the head of his cock is aligned with Phil’s slick opening. Phil is staring at him in amazement, and Dan doesn’t blame him - he’s exuding a confidence born purely of adrenaline, and it’s making him into someone unrecognisable, someone composed and assertive. Someone hot.

“Ready?” he asks; his shaky voice somewhat shatters the illusion.

“God, yes,” Phil replies, apparently not noticing.

Dan inches his hips forwards, letting the head of his cock press past the outer rim; Phil’s head tips backwards, a sigh of ecstasy spilling from his throat. His hand releases its grip on the covers, and he brings his long fingers to wrap around his cock.

Even the sight is intoxicating. Ignoring all other sensation for now, Phil looks maddeningly good this way; Dan’s hips almost lock in place, just watching him feel. The thin branches of Phil’s neck bones are protruding beneath the skin, mottled from where Dan has nipped and bitten. His puffed chest is rising and falling rapidly, his shoulders trembling, misted with a sheen of rainwater and sweat. He ducks his head again, meeting Dan’s eyes, and Dan remembers he’s supposed to be moving, that he is supposed to be the one in control of this. He doesn’t feel very in control, suddenly, too shaken by the onslaught of sensation attacking from all angles.

As if he’s gleaned these concerns from Dan’s mind through osmosis, Phil says, “wait,” and Dan pauses, terrified he’s done something wrong. Phil sits up, glazed and sluggish, then pushes Dan backwards with a hand against his shoulder.

“What’s wr-”

Dan lands back on his tailbone, and suddenly Phil is astride him, piled in his lap like a huge, gorgeous, naked gift. He angles himself without needing to look, keeping his eyes locked on Dan’s the whole time, and sinks himself back down onto Dan’s cock, lips parted, eyes fluttering. A moan pours out of Dan’s throat as the unexpected bliss crashes over him, as the sensation of slick, hot, closeness grips him by the soul. He is buried inside of Phil’s pure, angelic body, as far as he can get. It’s agony, because Phil has gone still, letting himself adjust to the intrusion. Dan’s head falls against Phil’s chest, trying to keep calm when he wants so badly to shout at Phil to move even slightly, would trade everything he owns for the relief of it.

And then, miraculously, Phil does.

“Fuck,” Dan whispers, brokenly, as Phil’s hips begin rolling forwards.

His fingers dig themselves into Phil’s arms, and he buries his face deeper into Phil’s chest. Phil’s arms wind around his shoulders. He lifts his hips up until Dan almost slips out of him entirely, then spears himself back down with a shudder.

“God, Dan,” Phil groans, speeding up the pace. He uses his grip on Dan’s shoulders to keep steady, bouncing up and down in Dan’s lap faster and faster, barely letting Dan gasp even a snatch of air. “Dan- Dan, would you touch me?”

Delirious, Dan mentally berates himself for not having the common sense to do this before now. He reaches clumsily between their bodies, barely holding himself together, and closes a fist around Phil’s cock, which is hot and rigid to the touch. He pumps his hand in time with the thrust of Phil’s hips, and in less than a minute Phil is crying out, biting down on Dan’s neck so hard that Dan wonders if he might bleed. Phil’s come splashes Dan’s chest and stomach, coating his hand, and all Dan can think is how he wishes he could taste it.

Dan doesn’t last much longer after that, as Phil doesn’t so much as stutter in his rhythm. He manages to push his hips upwards a few times, to make the most of this miraculous moment, locked together with Phil in the most intimate possible way. As the tip of his cock presses once again into that spot that makes Phil weak, Phil jerks and gasps in his arms. That’s the moment that Dan is unable to hold on any longer. He squeezes Phil’s arm, groaning into the crook of his neck as he feels his own release fill the condom, a hundred white-hot stars scorching over his skin in a brilliant, blinding shower.

For a minute after, they don’t move, draped over one another in various ways, just reorienting themselves as they float back to this dimension. Dan pushes his lips against Phil’s damp skin in a way that doesn’t feel chaste enough to be kisses. Eventually, Phil leans backwards, slowly lifting himself off Dan’s lap, letting him slip out. With a shaky, fumbling hand, Dan pulls off the condom, putting it carefully on the floor because he’s too spent to dispose of it properly just yet.

In the next moment, he feels damp fingers around his wrist, and then Dan is being pulled, until he’s flat on his back, Phil’s arm stretched out beneath his neck. They both stare at the ceiling, listening to the sound of their own gradually slowing breaths.

Dan rolls onto his side towards Phil, trailing fingers up his ribs, then into the cavern of his underarm, twisting the snatch of hair there between his fingers. He’s sweaty, and it’s still confusing to Dan that it doesn’t gross him out; instead, the musky, heavy scent of Phil’s perspiration is intoxicating, makes him want to bury his face in Phil’s shoulder and lick the moisture from his skin. So he does.

Phil turns to peer at him, amusedly. “Perv.”

Dan smiles, not caring that it seems peculiar, because he knows Phil doesn’t really care. “Was it okay?” Dan asks, as if he isn’t fully aware of how beyond incredible the last half hour had been for both of them.

“Amazing,” Phil replies, rolling onto his side to kiss him.

“I don’t think I’m as good as you at… that.”

Phil’s mouth twitches, and he leans back to stare into Dan’s eyes. His pupils are returning to a more even size, though they’re still taking up most of the space in Phil’s irises. The ring of azure around them glimmers brightly.

“Wouldn’t sell yourself short, mate,” Phil says. “I had a very good time.”

Dan snorts, mostly at Phil’s use of the word ‘mate’. “So you prefer it, then? Being like… the one who… um.”

“Bottoms?”

Dan’s only response is a mortifyingly quick blush.

Phil laughs, prodding Dan’s red cheek with his finger-tip. “I mean it. I don’t have a strong preference for either way.”

“It’s just Nikolai seemed so, like, surprised when he found out-”

“Dan,” Phil says, already grimacing, “I’m only gonna address this once with you, because I don’t particularly want you thinking about this in detail, but having sex with Nikolai is a very different experience to having sex with you. And not in a good way. Could you ever imagine him being as considerate of my preferences as you’re being right now?”

Dan’s nose wrinkles. “You have a point. So… you’re good with either? Top or bottom?”

The flame in Dan’s cheeks is fanned even saying the words. “Hmm,” Phil says, then leans in to kiss Dan again, harder this time, knocking him backwards until he’s on his back again. “Think I might need a reminder of what it’s like to top again. Y’know, just so I have all the evidence before I make up my mind.”

“Jesus, you’re more of a horn-dog than I remember,” Dan laughs, though he’s already winding a leg around Phil’s to pull him closer.

They’ve been holed up in Phil’s tiny living space, at the back of a stationary plane, mostly naked, for almost twelve hours. They’d napped for a while, but now they’re awake, watching an episode of Parks and Recreation because Phil has never seen it and Dan simply cannot allow anyone he associates with to not get his references to the show.

Somewhere in the middle of one of Leslie’s rousing speeches, Phil’s phone beeps. It’s not the first beep they’ve both pretended not to hear, and it’s perhaps for this reason that now Phil sighs and reaches for it, his other arm around Dan’s shoulders, fingers tickling idly across his upper arm. He frowns at the many messages filling the screen, scrolling through a few, then placing the phone upside down on the bedside shelf again. The amusing dialogue of the show loses its potency; Dan waits, breath held, for the inevitable.

“I’m gonna have to get back to work soon,” Phil says, just as Dan predicted. “I kind of… ran off on Martyn and Cornelia and PJ after the UN thing.”

“I figured,” Dan says, already resigned. “It’s okay. It was, um. Good to see you, and stuff. Weird without all the snow and altitude. But good.”

“Come with me,” Phil says. From the way he has the offer so readily at hand, Dan knows he’s been holding it back for a while. He pretends he hasn’t heard, instead focusing on the screen, where Leslie has just fallen into a giant pit. Relatable. Phil nudges him beneath the blanket with one foot. “Dan, did you hear me?”

Dan sighs, struggling out of Phil’s embrace. They should have talked about this sooner. Now they’re going to fight, and one of them’s going to hurt the other, and then they’ll split apart again for an indeterminably long bout of miserable, awful separation.

“I heard you.”

Dan runs a hand through his still-damp hair. They’d had showers a while ago in Phil’s tiny closet-shower. Though it would have been extremely nice to have stood beneath the spray together, there was no possible way they could both fit, so they took it in turns. Dan had gone first, and when he’d emerged, Phil had made more tea, and produced a packet of biscuits. He’d given Dan a robe - stolen from The Secret of the Alps, he noticed - for him to dry off and set him up with the laptop to watch Parks and Rec until he’d cleaned himself of the evidence of their debauchery too. It had been wholesome and unusually soft behaviour; entirely too easy to fall into, and forget that their circumstances didn’t allow for such kind, sweet interludes without a price.

“You don’t even want to be a lawyer,” Phil says, like it’s as simple as that. “Just think it over a bit more-”

“I did that,” Dan snaps, then checks himself, breathing deeply. If he can avoid getting upset and defensive, that would be ideal. “I already did the freaking out and running off to re-evaluate my choices. It didn’t work. You were there, you know it didn’t work.”

Phil shuts the laptop, cutting off the peppy American voices of the Parks and Rec cast. “What exactly didn’t work, though? What did you expect to happen up there?”

Dan laughs humourlessly, gesturing between them. “Not this.” He winces. It came out meaner than he intended it to. “I mean, obviously I’m glad I met you and we dragged each other into a destructive pattern of secretly bonking behind closed doors...”

“Heartfelt,” Phil replies; even though it’s sarcasm, Dan can tell without looking over at him that he’s smiling.

“..but, even you have to admit it probably wasn’t the smartest decision on my part. Or yours, come to that.” Dan picks at the thin, messy bedclothes, frowning. “I don’t think I’m very good at the self-reflective stuff. S’just better if I crack on, stop fantasising that there’s some dream career waiting in the wings somewhere.”

“Having a job that makes you happy isn’t a crazy fantasy, Dan,” Phil says. He makes everything sound so easy. Dan kind of misses that about him, dangerous and seductive though it is. “You could come with me. We could work it out together.”

“Come with you where?” Dan asks, turning to him incredulously. “No offence, mate, but you’ve got no more clue than I have right now. You have no money or plans, you said it yourself. It’s very admirable, all the charity stuff, but what’re you gonna do when the public grow bored of you without all the divorce drama? How are you gonna fund your humanitarian schemes?”

Phil shrugs, a composed, slightly amused smile gracing his features. He looks entirely unbothered by these questions, and Dan is suddenly so envious of his ability to shrug off anxiety that it makes a spurt of anger shoot through his chest. He rolls his eyes, throwing the covers off his legs. He’s about to get up, to find his clothes and put an end to this brief day-cation from reality, when Phil’s hand on his arm, gentle and cautious, gives him pause.

He waits, the warmth of Phil’s fingers draining the frustration from his bones, easing the tension in his body. Phil shuffles closer, hands sliding to rest on Dan’s shoulders, then rubbing gently, thumbs digging into the knots of taut muscle. It's so glorious that Dan sinks back into him, immediately slackening, his mind abruptly washed of every concern that had just been plaguing it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?” Phil murmurs into his ear.

“I get the feeling you’re about to,” Dan retorts, then feels a satisfied sigh slip out as Phil digs his clever fingers in deeper.

“I’m going to Africa,” he says in a low, soothing voice that Dan knows is probably one he’s been trained to use in stressful situations, but works so well that he can’t be bothered to protest. “There’s a cluster of villages in Kenya that need a lot of help. Installing water filtration systems, building schools, that sort of thing. That’s where I’m going next.”

“Oh. Right.” Dan’s shoulders tense up again. Africa. Could he be jetting off further? “How long f-”

“You should come with me,” Phil says for the third time. His hands become still on Dan’s shoulders. “I’m serious. We could use you out there.”

Dan rolls his eyes, though Phil is behind him and can’t see. “As convincing as that is, we both know I have the muscles of a cooked noodle, so I doubt I’d be much use to you-”

“It’s not always about physical labour,” Phil interrupts, like he’s prepared this argument months in advance. He’s too good at debating, that’s the trouble. Dan’s never stood a chance trying to last in the ring with him. “You’ve got other hugely beneficial skills, I’ve seen it myself. You can fix pretty much anything you put your mind to. That’s kind of extraordinary.”

Dan blinks, not sure how to react to the unexpected praise. “Well... I don’t know about ‘anything I put my mind to’-”

“Even so, you’d probably have a hell of a lot more clue than I would,” Phil points out, and Dan has to admit, although he’s never witnessed Phil attempt to repair or even patch up anything beyond his own fragile ego, he doubts very much that he’d be particularly skilled at it. He tries to imagine Phil with a spanner in his hand, tightening the joins in the municipal pipe under the blaring, scorching African sun. He has to hide his bubble of absurd laughter.

“I’m not a fan of the heat,” Dan protests, weakly.

Whilst this is true, and he’d deliberately chosen the destination of his last runaway attempt to be the opposite of somewhere hot, Dan can feel his soul yearning for the adventure. For being with Phil, daily, their perpetual bickering exacerbated by the blazing sun, and then soothed by the cool night air, locked away in some dark room they’d built together, free to kiss each other’s sun-blistered skin all night long. His fingers itch for the fantasy, and he clenches them into fists, knowing he shouldn’t dare to so much as want it.

Phil places a kiss to his shoulder, then leans away. “Yeah, you’re right,” Phil says, making Dan’s heart sink. “I mean, when you’re so passionate about law, a little sunshine seems laughable doesn’t it?”

Dan rolls his eyes, but a laugh escapes anyway, so he turns to whack Phil in the arm. Phil lets him, then catches him by the wrists, holding Dan’s gaze. “I think you could be happy. I think we could make each other happy.”

One of Dan’s eyebrows arches. “I think we’d drive each other bonkers.”

Phil smiles. “Same thing, I reckon.”

Dan shakes his head, knowing in every cell of his being that this is completely mental, to abandon his life again for a man who infuriates him daily. But he also knows, perhaps even more strongly, that he’s as in love with Phil as he is exasperated with him. “If I leave again… I won’t be able to come back.”

Phil squeezes his hands around Dan’s. “No,” he agrees. “Me neither.”

Dan chews his lip, though his resistance has more or less melted away. “Are you only offering to take me with you because you feel sorry for me?”

“Yeah,” Phil says, teasingly. “I’m rescuing you from a life of paperwork and office parties.” A smile breaks across his gorgeous face, making his eyes soften, crinkle at the sides. His voice drops into its rare tone of sincerity. “Dan, I’m asking you if you’d come with me. Because I watched you attempt to ski away from me up a hill and fall straight down it, and somehow managed to fall tragically, pathetically in love with you in the same instant. I want you to come. Because don’t really fancy trying to stay away from you anymore.”

Dan’s not sure how it happens really. One minute, he’s in a lecture hall with the most annoying girl on the planet talking his ear off about succulents and her hot personal tutor, and the next he’s in the front seat of a fully-fuelled plane, beside a stunningly handsome philanthropist-slash-ski-enthusiast-slash-pilot, headed for a continent halfway around the world. He hasn’t told his parents where they’re going yet. Phil hasn’t told the public, or Pj or Cornelia or Martyn. It’s all a bit ‘up in the air’. They’ll tell anyone who needs to know when they land again, when the intense rays of sun are soaking into their pale skin, flooding their veins with Vitamin D.

Dan reaches across the chasm between his and Phil’s seats, letting his hand dangle invitingly until Phil notices and takes it, rolling his eyes and telling Dan he’s a “right sap”. But he threads their fingers together anyway, angling the yoke towards the sky, and Dan leans back in his chair as the clouds zoom closer, welcoming the oncoming oblivion. A wild thought swims at him from nowhere, as if it fell straight out of the Heavens:

He’d be just fine if they never had to come down.

The End.

(Yes, there will be an epilogue. Stay tuned for updates about that!)

#too high #enemies to lovers au #phan #phanfic

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