#she gave us his email address last year but i never got to write to him or forgot… i also heard he battled cancer and it hurt sm to think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

Text

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock.

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #jjk smut #bts smut #mine

5K notes · View notes

study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Who Would've Thought? A Government Teacher and an English Teacher (A Halstead Brothers + Upstead + Halstead Daughter! Imagine; Part of AU-gust)

A/N: Thank you for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I'm also donating all the proceeds that from my buy me a coffee account to Save The Children to help the children of Afghanistan. Link to buy me a coffee.

Anyway, enjoy!

"Hey, I know you aren't a morning person," your dad said as he walked up to you sitting at the bar in the kitchen with a piece of paper in his hand.

"You're right, I'm not," you said.

"All I need is for you to look over the seating chart I made for the juniors."

"Make sure you didn't put people who have beef next to each other?" you asked.

"Exactly. And I figured, since it's your class, you'd be the perfect person to do it."

"And because I'm your daughter."

"That, too."

He set the paper in front of you. "Since I'm doing this for you, care to make me my coffee?" you asked

"The pumpkin spice one?" You nodded. "Kid, it's the first week of September. It's like 75 out (23.9 celsius). Fall's not even close. And, technically, it's still summer."

"Listen, Dunkin' came out with their pumpkin spice stuff in mid-August. And, you know the minute it hits September, I get in the fall mood."

"But you still won't go to a Bears game with me and your Uncle Will," he said.

"Dad, I don't understand football."

He pulled the K-Cup out and put it in the Keurig. "I told you that me and Uncle Will could teach you. And, you seem to understand it when you're at school football games."

"I just cheer when everyone else does. It's not that hard."

"Fair enough."

He pointed to the counter of the bar, so you looked down at the seating chart. You waved him back over to you as you heard the sputtering of the Keurig, telling you that all your coffee was almost in your tumbler.

You pointed to two seats. "These two girls have had beef since middle school, so throw them across the room from each other." Your dad grabbed a pen from his breast pocket and drew a line to put one of the girls on the opposite side of the room. "These two are dating, so unless you want them talking all the time, I suggest you at least move the guy to a different group." He drew another line on the seating chart. "And this guy dated these two girls, so you need to make sure that they're as far away from each other as possible."

"Which one is he dating now?" your dad asked as he drew more lines.

"Neither. He was dating both of them at the same time. Get why none of them can be by each other now?"

"Gotcha."

He took the seating chart from you and handed you your tumbler of coffee. "I don't drink it black," you said as you raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, believe me, I know, but I'll leave you to do that because I don't want to mess up your coffee to creamer ratio and have you get mad at me for it."

"Fair enough."

You sighed as you poured your creamer into your coffee because you thought about all the homework that was going to be piled on to your plate this year.

"What's wrong?" your dad asked.

"I'm gonna be drowning at the end of today."

"Can't argue with you there. But tell me if you think your homework load for APUSH (AP US History) and AP Gov (AP Government) is getting too much for one class. I'll talk to the teachers. And, you have me to help you with your government homework." He said the last part with a huge smile on his face.

"Dad," you groaned. "You've been waiting for me to be a junior forever now just so you could be my teacher."

"Yup, and you chose AP over me. How rude."

"Sorry, but college is expensive. It was only like 50 bucks a class when you went to college back in the olden days."

"Young lady, I am not old."

"Fine, you're vintage. Better?" He just glared at you while you finished stirring your coffee and then started making your breakfast. "But, at least Hail- Miss Upton doesn't give us a ton of homework because she knows we're drowning in homework already and have the SATs to worry about, so that's nice."

You were super thankful for your Honors English 11 teacher, who also taught AP Stats. She gave you at least half an hour each class period to do your homework since she knew that most of you had sports or after-school clubs or a part job to get to and didn't have all night to do homework. She was the one who also said to send her an email if you couldn't get the assignment done and she'd give you an extension. She said that your physical health and mental health were way more important than you finishing your homework.

Your dad was like that, too. Granted, he didn't give the students in his class a ton of homework to begin with, and he made the class fun...at least, that's what you heard from the kids who were juniors last year. The only time your dad really gave homework was when he gave out study guides to fill out. He'd give them out a week before the test and then after two days, he'd check that everyone got them done and go over them in class so that everyone had the right answers to study from. Mr. Jay Halstead also didn't give tests on a Monday because that was just cruel...and he knew that when he was in high school, he absolutely hated homework, so he didn't give a lot of it. And, he hated coming to school on a Monday when he forgot to study over the weekend, so he didn't give tests on Mondays.

"You're not going running this morning?" you asked as you cut up a banana to go into your oatmeal.

"No, I think I'll run with you guys after school today at practice."

Your dad was also the high school cross country coach. You weren't a fast runner by any means, but your best friend, Emma, had made it to regionals and was a great runner. And, your dad said that you either play a sport in high school or you get a job, so you joined the cross country team. In all honesty, you liked running for the endorphin rush it gave you after the run and just talking to some of your teammates while running or listening to music or podcasts while running. But, you weren't competitive, so that's probably why you weren't as fast as Emma, and your dad knew this. But, he was just glad you were being active in some way after school and that you enjoyed exercising even if you weren't the best or the fastest runner. He just wanted you to live a long and healthy life, and he knew starting to exercise in high school would help you build those healthy habits.

But, usually what your dad did in the morning was go to school at like six in the morning, so he'd be up at five, and then he'd utilize the weight room or the indoor track to workout. Then, he'd take a quick shower and get ready there, and be teaching by 7:30. Yeah, he was crazy for running that early.

"You know," you started, "Miss Upton likes to run. Maybe you should see if she'll co-coach with you? Or maybe she'll run with you in the morning?"

Jay shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. "Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that Hailey and I are just friends. Nothing more."

"Says the man who lesson planned with her last week," you said, wiggling your eyebrows.

"Y/N, she's a coworker. I would've done that with anyone. It was just coffee. You read too much into things."

"Dad," you sighed. "You haven't dated in years."

"Yeah, since Abby dropped you off on my doorstep." He used to refer to Abby as your mom, but she wasn't around, so when you were around 14 years old, you just started referring to her as Abby. After all, you had never even met the woman, and she didn't want you, not even leaving an address on the note attached to your pajamas, so she didn't deserve the title of Mom.

"So, 17 years. You haven't dated in 17 years, Dad. You gotta get back out there. Even Uncle Will said you need to."

"You talked to your uncle about this?" he asked. "Oh, and put some egg whites in that oatmeal for some extra protein."

"What? You gonna make us lift weights today at cross country practice?"

He shrugged. "You never know. Now, no more talking to Uncle Will about my love life."

"There's not even anything to talk about. But, he does think you and Miss Upton would look cute together."

You added some egg whites to your oatmeal and put it back in the microwave for an extra minute.

"This has been going on for way too long now, Y/N. We're not gonna date. We're just friends and coworkers. Just drop it."

You put your hands up in mock surrender.

Ever since freshman year when you had Miss Upton for creative writing (yes, she taught one section of AP stats, one section of creative writing, and she also taught Honors English 11 and regular English 11 for the rest of her sections), you knew that her and your dad would be a great match. So, you confided in Emma and she agreed. Ever since then, you hadn't really let the topic go.

"Fine," you groaned...even though you and your dad both knew that the topic would not be dropped in the slightest.

"Now, do you want me to drive you, or do you want to drive yourself?"

Usually, since he left before you, you'd just drive yourself to school since you were 17 and had been driving for a year now. But, during the first week of school, your dad didn't do his morning workouts, so he always gave you the option if you wanted to ride to school with him.

You pursed your lips. "Fine. I'll ride with you, just cause it'll save me gas."

Jay laughed. "You're not even the one who pays for your gas."

He was right. He was the one who paid for your gas because you had always studied hard...and you played a sport, so you didn't have time for a part-time job. Because of this, Jay decided he'd pay for your gas. But, you did have to work a part-time job in the summer.

"Fine. It prolongs the time before I have to go to the gas station. How's that?" you asked.

"Miss Upton would be proud of how you worded that."

"Maybe you should tell her that, Dad. It'd be a great conversation starter."

***

"So," Emma began as you were warming up for your run after the school day ended, "how'd the chat with your dad go?"

You sighed while jogging. "I don't think it's ever gonna happen. He's too damn stubborn to ask her out and he claims that they're just friends and coworkers. I hate it. They'd be so damn cute together."

"I know," Emma agreed. "You know, I overheard her in the hallway between classes saying that she was going to chaperone the homecoming dance. Maybe your dad could get in on that and that's how they could talk more?" she suggested.

"Emma, that's a great idea, but I really don't want my dad at homecoming. That is awkward as hell."

Emma laughed. "Sorry, didn't think about that."

"Hustle up!" your dad yelled. "Time to stretch!"

You started your normal stretching routine before your dad started to give his normal beginning of the school year speech. "Alright, I need all of you to listen up. I don't want anybody talking over me, you hear me?" You all nodded. "Okay, good. So, I know that some of you have heard horror stories about the old cross country coach who said that if you miss a practice, then you miss a meet...unless it was for being sick." Most of you nodded.

Before your dad started coaching and the other cross country coach retired, a lot of the students hated the previous coach's coaching style. His coaching style was run more to get better at running...which sounded good in theory. But, this didn't actually work. You see, what would end up happening was that he'd make the runs longer and longer. He'd even make the athletes do a long run on Saturday and then a short run (which to him was three miles) on Sunday. If an athlete didn't send him the screenshots from apps like map my run, then they wouldn't be able to race in the next meet. This obviously was a recipe for overtraining and injuries. You heard that one girl even hurt her IT band from running so much! So, it was no surprise that most people hated the coach and so many parents complained, so he stepped down, and then your dad came in to coach.

"That's not how I coach," your dad continued. "School and your grades are really important. So is sleep. I don't want you guys not getting sleep or not getting to spend time with friends or not have other social interactions because you have to practice for two hours and then go home and do homework and get to bed late. I don't want you guys to be sleep-deprived zombies." Most of you laughed at that. "With that being said, if you're overwhelmed and feel like there's not enough time in a day, just come talk to me and we'll figure it out. Whether that's only coming to practice for an hour or taking a few days off to study for an upcoming test or taking time off for a family emergency, we'll figure out what to do." Everyone nodded. "Alright everybody, let's go run the big loop. Keep track of your split times."

***

You were walking inside with Emma to go grab your stuff from your locker after you had finished practice. Perks of having your dad be a teacher? You and your friend could leave your stuff inside instead of bringing it outside with you.

"Just meet me in my room when you're done, Y/N," your dad told you. "Have a good night, Emma."

"You too, Mr. Halstead," she replied.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jay when it's not school or practice hours?" Jay smiled and then walked down the hall to his classroom to retrieve the stuff he had brought with him for the day...with his shirt sticky from sweat since he had run with you guys today.

He walked out of his classroom with his backpack and gym bag, to come face to face with Miss Hailey Upton walking out of her classroom as well.

"Run with the team today, Jay?" she asked.

"Yeah, you know, first week of school, kind of hard to get my early morning runs in when there's so much to do on the classroom side," he answered.

"Understandable. I've been doing mine after I lesson plan and before dinner. Hopefully, I'll be back to nightly runs soon before it starts getting dark earlier and earlier."

"But, when it gets too dark, then you'll be running in the mornings soon...and then it'll be cold," Jay pointed out.

"There's this thing called a treadmill, Jay. I utilize that in the winter."

"That shows that you're an English teacher: you use big words."

Hailey rolled her eyes. "I see you reading books during your lunch period. I know you know big words, you just prefer not to use them."

"Yeah, because I want the kids to think I'm a cool teacher...not a snob."

"I am not a snob!" Hailey jokingly argued.

"I'm kidding, Hailey! I'm kidding! And, I know you lesson plan and grade on your lunch break, too instead of going to the teacher's lounge."

"Spying on me now, huh?"

"Our rooms are right across from each other and we have the same lunch period, what else am I supposed to do?" he laughed.

Hailey sighed dramatically. "Oh, I guess. Tell you what: come to my room during our lunch period and I can give you some good book recommendations."

"I get enough book recommendations from my daughter, thank you very much. But, I guess I can always use more."

"So, see you during tomorrow's lunch period?"

"See you then. Have a good night, Hailey."

"You, too. Tell Y/N I say hi and not to work too hard on all her homework."

Then, they walked down the hallway and Jay walked back towards where you were still chatting with Emma. All the while, he was thanking God that you weren't there during that conversation between him and Hailey because he wouldn't hear the end of it. But, he was also wondering what the hell he'd just gotten into.

***

"You will not believe what I just saw!" Emma whispered to you the next day in your AP gov class.

"What?" you whispered back.

She had forgotten her laptop in her locker and had to go get it. Which, the route to her locker from the classroom you were currently in went right past your dad and Hailey's classrooms.

"Your dad and Miss Upton are in her classroom eating lunch together."

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. "No way!"

You received a glare from the teacher and were quiet. But, you'd be sure to ask your dad about this when you went home tonight.

***

"Uncle Will's coming over for dinner in an hour," your dad told you when you got inside your house after practice. You had decided to drive yourself to school today instead of riding with him. "How much homework do you have?"

"Uh..." you blanched and set down your backpack and unzipped it. Then, you grabbed your planner and flipped it open, laying it out on the kitchen table. "I have an AP stats worksheet that's due tomorrow, I have to read half a chapter in my AP bio textbook by Monday, I have to read a full chapter of my AP gov textbook by Tuesday, and I have an APUSH assignment due tomorrow. Oh, and I should probably read a chapter of the book I chose to read for my English class plus I have to annotate a few paragraphs of crappy 16th-century literature by tomorrow, too."

"Christ," your dad said. "So, what do you have to do tonight?"

"AP stats worksheet, APUSH assignment, and I have to annotate for English. I could always not read the chapter in the book I chose to read if I don't want to."

"Do you want me to just tell Uncle Will to come over this weekend?" he asked.

Jay know knew you absolutely loved his brother and that you were always excited to tell him about your day and how school was going. It had always been this way because, when Jay found you on his doorstep, he was 22, and had just started undergrad and was working on his teaching degree. Because of this, when Will wasn't studying in his last two years of med school and later working in a hospital as a new resident, he was your go-to babysitter. And you absolutely loved when he came over...despite not being able to remember much because you were so young. Apparently, you had been particularly fascinated by Will's red hair and would pull on it every chance you got. But, he'd let you play with it until it really started to hurt him because you were his favorite (and only) niece and he knew he'd do anything for you. This came in handy as you got older because you realized you had him wrapped around your finger and would always ask him for homework help. Or, if your dad wouldn't give you spending money, you'd go straight to your Uncle Will, and usually, he'd give you some.

"No," you answered. "A doctor needs to know stats, right?"

"I think so," your dad answered. "Why? Are you struggling already? Do you need to go into the regular stats class instead of the advanced one?"

You laughed at your dad's concern. "No, I'm fine. Just figured he'd be able to check it for me to make sure I did everything right."

"Oh, good. And, I'm pretty sure he can do that. Now, go take a shower so you can get started on your homework before he gets here and so I can start on dinner."

***

"Guess what?" you asked as all three of you twirled your spaghetti onto your forks at the dinner table an hour later.

"Chicken butt," Will said.

Jay rolled his eyes. "I swear, I wonder if Mom and Dad were lying when they said that you were older. Maybe I'm the older one and they just lied to us because you sure do act like the younger brother."

"Relax, Jay. Just because I'm more fun than you and Y/N likes me better, does not mean that I'm immature."

"Anyway," you said, wanting to tell Will what you had found out earlier today, "do you want to know what I have to say or not?"

"Go ahead," Will said.

"Okay, so today during AP gov, Emma had to back to her locker to grab her laptop. And she went right by Dad and Miss Upton's classrooms." You paused as you looked over at your dad and saw his eyes slightly widen and then go back to normal. "And they were eating lunch together in her classroom!"

"Awe," Will cooed. "My little brother's back on the market. Good for you, man." Then, he turned to you. "Upton's the short, blonde English teacher you've been trying to set him up with for years now, right?"

"He's not supposed to know about the set-up part!" you hissed.

"Oh, sorry. Jay, forget I said that."

"Y/N, I already you've been trying to set us up," your dad laughed. "It's been kind of obvious."

"Now that that's settled," Will started, "how'd it go? What did you two talk about? And are you having lunch together tomorrow?"

"You two are terrible, you know that?"

"Oh, we know," Will said. "But, you can't ground me, so I can be as terrible as I want."

Jay laughed. "She won't get grounded for that, Will. She might get grounded if she keeps procrastinating her stats homework, though."

"Need help, kiddo?" Will asked. "I have to read stats for things like new drugs and stuff, so I'm good at that. Don't know if I can help you with actually solving the problem because it's been ages since I've done that, but I can try."

"No, thanks, though. I just took a long shower so I have to get it done after dinner. I understand it all, though."

"Good, you can always come to me if you need help with it, though," Will offered. "Or, since it's Miss Upton--" He looked directly at Jay when he said Miss Upton and then turned his attention back to you. "--who's your stats teacher, you can always ask her. But, be sure to drag your dad along with you."

"Will!"

***

Two weeks later

"Might want to tell them to drink a ton of water after this, Jay, because it's so hot," Hailey Upton said as she walked up to Jay Halstead--and Coach Halstead for the next few hours--at an away cross country meet on a Wednesday afternoon in mid-September. "Or better yet, get them some Gatorade."

"Hailey?" Jay asked as he turned around, getting his stopwatch ready. "What are you doing here? And, I'd get them Gatorade if I could. I kinda forgot to pick it up last night."

"I'm here because some kids asked me to come to their meet. And, I always try to come to those things if kids ask me."

Jay cocked an eyebrow. "Would two of those kids be my daughter and her best friend?"

"Among others."

He looked down at the rolling cooler she had brought. "What's with the cooler?"

"Well, you may not have had time to pick up Gatorade, but I did. So, there's one in there for each kid plus the coach...and me of course."

"How'd you know Gatorade would help?" Jay asked. "Other than logic of course."

Hailey laughed. "I've run a few marathons in my life, Jay. I know all about proper hydration and how important it is to refuel after a hot run."

At this, Jay raised his eyebrows. He knew that she ran, but she didn't know that she ran marathons. "Oh, wow. Which ones?"

"You know, the Chicago marathon obviously. Always wanted to do like Boston or someplace, but you have to qualify for those, you can't just go and sign up like here in Chicago. Oh, and I've always wanted to do a Disney marathon. I think it'd be cool, you know? Run through Disney World, maybe hop on some rides during the race."

Jay smiled. "That actually does sound really fun."

The announcer said that it was ten minutes until it was time to race.

"I gotta get to the first mile marker," Jay said.

"Okay, where's our tent? I'll go put this cooler under it."

Jay told Hailey where the tent was and was about to leave when she stopped him.

"Where do I get the maps? I can go to the second mile marker to help out with times in case you can't get there fast enough," she suggested.

"That'd, uh, that'd actually be great, Hailey. Thank you. And, you just get the maps from the table right over there," Jay answered and pointed to a table about 200 meters away.

"Awesome, thanks. See you after the race, Coach," Hailey joked.

Jay nodded and started to jog off toward the first mile marker. But, all the while he wondered what the hell this woman was doing to him. Because he felt his cheeks heating up in a blush as he jogged off.

And, as for Hailey, well she was watching as Jay jogged away and loved the way he ran with perfect form and how his biceps flexed just enough that she could see the muscles slightly bulge.

She laughed to herself. If they ever went running together, she'd have to tell him to loosen up because you weren't supposed to run with your arms as taut as his were; he was wasting energy.

But, for now, she just made her way over to the tent and left the cooler and then went to get a map and start off toward the second mile marker to help out a fellow teacher...well, maybe he was starting to be more than just a fellow teacher. Neither of them really knew at this point. But, Hailey liked the thrill of it all. She felt like she was in high school again...a high school student, not a high school teacher.

***

You panted and winced as you crossed the finish line. Shit, your shin splints were really acting up this time, and God, it was so hot out and you felt nauseous and even had to walk during some points of the race. We'll see what your dad had to say about that.

Wait, was that Miss Upton coming up to you?

It is! She actually came!

"Y/N, are you okay? I saw you walking," she said worriedly while your dad jogged over since you were the last one on your team to finish.

"You good, kid?" your dad asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. My shin splints just hurt really bad and I think the heat's making me feel sick."

"Okay, well, I have to go watch the boys and make sure they're ready. Hailey, can you, uh, help Y/N? The medical tent's across from here. Maybe make sure she gets under our team tent without puking and get her something to drink?"

"I can do that, Jay, don't worry."

Emma walked up to you. "Good job!" she exclaimed.

"Girl, I didn't even run as fast as you! You flew through there. But, it's hot as hell!" you said.

"It is really hot. You gonna watch the guys' race?"

"No, Dad told me to sit under our tent in the shade. Gotta get some ice for my shins first, though."

"Shin splints acting up?"

"Yeah."

Then, you, Miss Upton, and Emma walked over to the medical tent where you got bags of ice wrapped around your shins.

***

"I'll run to Mcdonald's and get you ice, too," your dad said before you got in your separate cars back at school after the meet. "What do you want?"

"Uh, a ten-piece nugget--don't forget the honey mustard--a medium fry, and a medium lemonade," you said as your dad typed it into the notes app of his phone. "Thanks."

"I'll see you at home. Drive careful."

"See you in like half an hour."

Then you drove home and decided to start on some homework while still in your sweaty cross country uniform.

When your dad got home, you gobbled down your food because damn, you were hungry after that mentally taxing race. Then, you and your dad filled the bathtub up with ice and cold water.

Time for hell...aka an ice bath. At this point, you'd do anything to prevent your shin splints from getting bad. At least the old coach wasn't coaching because, from all the horror stories you heard, it'd be worse for your shins if he was coaching and not your dad.

After you changed into a pair of spandex shorts and a long-sleeved running shirt and a hoodie, you lowered yourself into the freezing and icy water. You set your phone timer for eight minutes and braved the cold for that long.

Then, after that, you drained the bathtub and took a very hot shower. But, as you were in there, you started feeling nauseous again. You crouched down and actually ended up throwing up a bit in the shower. It was nothing major, you just figured it was from eating too fast. But, you were still really tired.

And this is what you told your dad when you got out of the shower.

"But, I still have homework," you said defeatedly. "I kinda wanna just go to sleep now. It's already 7:00 and I have at least two to four hours of homework to do."

Jay sighed. He never wanted to play this game, but he wasn't going to let you run on not enough sleep tomorrow when you weren't even feeling your best.

"What classes?" he asked.

"Uh, I have to get APUSH done which will take me like at least two hours, and then I have English and stats homework," you answered.

Jay sighed. "I'll give Hailey a call and explain the situation and see if she'll give you an extension on the English and stats homework."

Your eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes, now go grab some water and get started on your APUSH homework. And.. it will only be a one day extension."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best Dad ever!"

Then, you grabbed your water and went back upstairs to your room.

But, all you could think about was that your dad and Miss Upton were talking over the phone outside of school. Maybe they were becoming more than just co-workers.

Jay dialed Hailey's phone number and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"Jay?" she asked when she answered.

"Hi, Hailey. Yeah, it's Jay. Listen I have a huge favor to ask you," he said.

"What is it?"

"So Y/N puked a bit in the shower, probably because of the amount of sodium in those damn chicken nuggets she wanted, and then she took an ice bath and then a hot shower, so the quick and significant temperature change probably played a role. Anyway, how it happened isn't the point. It's just that she's really tired and she has AP US history homework that she has to finish. So, would it be okay if you gave her a one day extension on her English homework and her stats homework? If not, I completely understand because you can't just make exceptions because she's a teacher's kid and--"

"Jay, relax," Hailey laughed. "Yes, I'll give her the extensions. What is it that you always tell your team? Their physical and mental health comes first?"

Jay chuckled and then took a sip of his beer. "Yeah, that's about right. And, thank you. Y/N will greatly appreciate that."

"No problem. But, I also have a favor to ask you."

Jay cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"So, we're short on chaperones for the homecoming dance and I was wondering if maybe you could chaperone? And, I figured that since you have a kid and would probably want to be there for her pictures before the dance, you don't have to help us set up. Maybe just chaperone and then help us tear down? If not just chap--"

"Hailey, of course, I'll help out. Now, Y/N, she might not be happy that I'll be chaperoning her school dance, but I'll be there. Count me in."

***

2 weeks later, 3 days before homecoming dance

"Okay, I know I'm just your English teacher," Miss Upton started at the beginning of class that day, "but I still care about your guys' safety. So, please, please, please do not drive drunk or buzzed. Call your parents to pick you up. I can absolutely promise you that they'd be happier that you called them to pick you up than you trying to drive home and getting into a car accident."

"What if my parents will be mad at me for drinking anyway?" one kid asked.

"So, if that's the case, you can always call me and I will come pick you up from wherever you're at. I can lose a few hours of sleep to make sure that you guys are home safe." She started writing numbers on the whiteboard. "Right here is my cell phone number, if you think you'll need it, write it down or make it a contact in your phone. Again, I'd rather not come to school on Monday and learn that one of you is in the hospital because of something that could have been prevented."

You pulled out your phone, you didn't think that you'd need Miss Upton's number, but you figured you'd put it in just in case since two girls from your AP gov class asked you to be the DD for a party. You were kind of friends with them, like you studied for tests together, but that was it. But, you had debated it because it was a party after homecoming and you had never been to a party before...let alone one after a dance.

"Oh, Miss Upton," you said as you put your phone face down on your desk.

"Yes, Y/N?" she asked.

"What color dress are you wearing when you're chaperoning the dance?"

"I haven't really thought it much." She furrowed her eyebrows as she wondered why you were asking this question. "But, probably red. Why?"

"Just wondering."

And now, you just needed to make sure that your dad had a red tie and that he actually wore it when he was chaperoning the dance.

***

3 days later, homecoming

"What about this?" your dad asked as he walked out of his room in dress pants, a white shirt, a navy blue tie, and a sport coat.

You were already in your dress and had gotten your hair and nails done earlier in the day, so now you were just waiting to take some pictures with Emma and then actually go to the dance.

"Hmm, I don't know. The shirt and tie are kind of what you wear to work everyday, so I think you need something different. Maybe a brighter tie or something," you said and then walked into his room and opened his closet.

You sifted through the closet until you found what you were looking for: a black shirt and a red tie.

"I think you should wear these," you said and laid the two pieces of clothing on his bed.

"What? Why? You know I never wear red. That tie has been hung up in my closet since you were probably ten," he argued.

"That's the point, Dad! You need to get out of your comfort zone and wear something besides what you wear to school...or in your case, work. It's a dance, so you have to wear something fancy."

Jay groaned. He knew he wasn't going to be able to win this argument.

"Fine. I'll change."

"Good."

Then, you walked out of his room.

Your plan had worked.

***

"Mr. Halstead," Hailey said as she saw Jay walk onto the dance floor a few hours later when all the lights were off and the cleared-out cafeteria became full of students dancing.

"Miss Upton," he greeted. She laughed. "What?"

"It's nothing," Hailey said quickly. "It's just that, well your tie..." she trailed off while his eyes raked down her body in the slightly tight (but not too tight because they were at a school function) spaghetti strap bright red dress that she was wearing. "Let's just say I now know why Y/N asked me what color dress I was wearing."

Jay groaned and shook his head. "My daughter. Always...you know, I don't know what her game is at this point, but I should've suspected something when she told me to go change."

But damn, Jay thought, she does look good in red.

God, Hailey thought, I wish he'd wear those kind of black shirts to work more often.

***

It was now after the dance and you and your dad had arrived back at home at around the same time.

"You're a little devil, you know that?" he asked when you were both inside.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I plead the fifth," you replied.

"Very funny. You can't do that."

"Yes, I can. You should know this, Dad, you teach government."

"You can plead the fifth in court, but you cannot do it with your dad. So, I know that you asked Hailey what color dress she was wearing just so my tie could match it."

"Oooh, so we're calling her Hailey and not Miss Upton now. I'd say that's a step up. What did you two talk about at the dance? Because I know for a fact that you didn't ask her to slow dance."

"And you didn't slow dance with anyone either, so we're even, kid," Jay retorted.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Get this hair out."

"Okay." Your dad yawned. "I'm gonna get to bed. Now I know why you sleep until noon the day after dances: they're exhausting."

"Tell me about it. Goodnight. Send Miss Upton-- well, Hailey now-- a text to make sure she got home safe!"

You didn't even wait for your dad's witty reply before you bounded up the stairs and into your bathroom.

But, you didn't actually end up taking a shower. You ran the shower while you washed off your makeup and re-did it into something more party-appropriate and then took down your hair and put it up into a ponytail.

After half an hour, you turned off the shower and wrapped your still dry body in a towel after you had stripped off your dress. You peeked out of the bathroom to see that your dad's bedroom door was closed, which meant that he was asleep.

Then, you tiptoed into your room and changed your clothes.

You pulled out your phone to tell the girls to park a few houses down so your dad didn't hear the car pull in the driveway or see the headlights.

Your plan of going to your very first high school party was a go.

***

It had been two hours since you had snuck out and it was nearing two in the morning. And, you weren't feeling too hot. You had decided not to drink because you were the DD out of you and the two girls from class. And, you had kept the car keys away from them so that they couldn't do anything stupid...and so you could keep them safe. You hadn't drank anything, but you had eaten the fruit off of the top of the spiked punch bowl and, for whatever reason, you were starting to feel lighter and happier.

Shit.

Your dad had warned that fruit soaks up alcohol. How could you have been so stupid to forget that? He was going to kill you! There's no way you could call him to pick you up, absolutely no way!

Somehow, you found your friends, they were by the makeshift bar, no shock there because you knew the only reason they were there was to get drunk. Note to self: if people you only know because of one class ask you to come to a party for the sole purpose of being the DD, do not go.

Luckily for you, one of the girls' boyfriends played on the football team and wasn't going to risk his season just for one party. So, you told him that you needed to leave and that you were the DD and asked if he could get the two girls home safely. He agreed and you passed off the car keys to him.

Then you walked outside, the chilly mid-October night air helping to slow the nervousness coursing through your veins about facing your dad.

You pulled out your phone and hit the contact you had made in class a few days ago.

"Hello? This is Hailey," you heard Hailey's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Miss Upton, it's Y/N Halstead," you said.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" You heard shuffling on the end of the line and assumed that Miss Upton was standing up from somewhere.

"I mean, I'm kinda woozy I guess. But, I snuck out and my dad doesn't know where I am." You hung your head. You couldn't believe you had been so stupid.

"And you had a drink so you can't drive home?" she finished.

"Yeah." She didn't need to know the details. All she needed to know was that you needed help getting home.

"Okay, send me your location and I'll be there soon, okay? Is it safe for you? Do you need me to stay on the phone or call the cops?"

"No, no, I'm perfectly fine. Just need someone to drive me home."

"Okay good. Send me that location and I'll be there soon."

Then, she told you the model of her car and the color so you could spot her easily. Once you were off the phone, you sent her your location and she replied with a thumbs up, telling you that she got it.

Your phone rang. You thought it was Miss Upton, but then you looked down and saw it was your dad.

Double shit.

***

"Please don't tell my dad," you said when you pulled up to your driveway half an hour later.

"Y/N, I have--"

But, she was saved from telling you that she needed to tell your dad when the front door flung open.

Your dad must've seen the headlights.

"Go," Miss Upton said. "You're only prolonging the inevitable if you stay in here."

You sighed. "Will you walk me up?"

"Sure."

So, both you and Miss Upton exited the car.

The minute your dad saw you, he ran down the steps to you.

"Young lady!" he yelled. "Where were you? Do you know how worried I was? You could've gotten seriously hurt!" He paused. "Get over here!"

You knew to listen to him when he pulled out the dad voice.

He put two fingers underneath your chin and tipped your head up. "Breathe. Now."

It was faint, but it was there, your dad smelt stale vodka on your breath...mixed with a citrusy scent and teeth that hadn't been brushed since the previous morning.

He sighed and clenched his teeth. Then, he put his hands down and he finally spotted Hailey. "Hailey, what are you doing here?" he asked, unclenching his jaw.

"I always tell my students that they can call me if they need to get picked up from parties and can't drive. So far, Y/N's the only one who has utilized that."

"Well, thank you. I'm sorry she had to make you come out at this time of night." He turned back to you. "As for you, go inside. Not only did you drink, but you went to a party, too. We'll talk in a few minutes."

You hung your head and made your way inside and sat down on the couch in the living room.

Jay walked up to Hailey. "I'm really sorry about her. But, thank you for getting her home safe. How far did you have to drive? I can give you gas money for all of this on Monday."

"Jay, it's fine. I make this offer for homecoming and prom every year. You don't have to pay me. I just wanna make sure all the kids get home safe, that's all."

"At least let me buy you coffee or something. You brought my little girl home safe when I didn't even know where she was. I think that warrants some type of reward."

"If you want to repay me that bad," Hailey began, "I'm lesson planning and grading at Starbucks tomorrow. I guess you can buy me a coffee."

"Done. Text me the time and I'll be there."

"Will do."

"Now, excuse me, but I have to go deal with my daughter."

"Goodnight, Jay."

"Night, Hailey."

Then, she drove off and back to her house while Jay walked up his front steps and wondered what he was going to say to you.

"Look at me," your dad demanded when he made his way into the living room.

You looked up. "I'm so--"

"No," your dad said quickly, cutting you off. "You don't talk. You only listen. Do you understand me?" You nodded. "Good. Do you know how worried sick I was when I couldn't find you inside? I was beside myself, Y/N. I didn't know where you were, I didn't know if you were hurt. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. What you did was stupid and reckless and please do not ever, ever do that again. Never do that again. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," you answered.

"Good."

You took a deep breath before you asked your next question. "Am I in trouble?"

Your dad sighed and sat down next to you. "As much as I want to ground you, no you are not in trouble. I'm just so relieved that you're home safe. And, you made the right decision by not driving and calling someone to pick you up...even if it wasn't me."

"Do you want an explanation as to why I went?" you asked.

"No, God no. I may look calm on the outside, but on the inside, I'm still pissed."

"Can I ask how you knew I snuck out?"

"You forgot to leave your fan on and I knew it was way too quiet in your room."

The doorbell rang.

"Shoot, I forgot to tell your uncle that you're home safe. But, you better go up to bed before me and him talk and think of a punishment for you."

"So you're still mad?" you asked.

"A little mad, but mostly I'm just relieved and disappointed. I thought you knew better." You hung your head. "Now, go to bed."

"Okay." You stood up. "Goodnight, I love you." You gave him a hug.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, too, kid. Now, get to bed."

You went upstairs, but instead of going all the way to your room, you sat down on the landing, intent on listening to your dad's and your uncle's conversation about you.

"Hey, she's home. It's all good," Jay said as he answered the door and then motioned for his brother to come inside.

"Oh, thank God. Where was she?" Will asked as they made their way to the living room and sat down on different couches, facing each other.

"Apparently she went to a party. I know she drank because I smelled alcohol on her breath. It was just a bit, but it was there."

"If you want, we can bring her to Med and I can do a tox screen to see the level of alcohol in her system," Will suggested.

"You know, that's not a bad idea actually."

Jay quickly stood up, but Will stopped him. "I'm kidding, man! Don't do that! She was still lucid when she came home, right?"

"Yeah, she was walking and talking normally."

"Okay, then sit your ass back down and don't drag your daughter to Med. Did you ground her?"

"No, I actually didn't."

"There's a shock. You always said you'd ground your kid if they snuck out. Oh, how things changed."

"I was just so relieved," Jay said and sat back down. "When Hailey pulled in the driveway and Y/N got out of her car--"

"Wait," Will started, cutting Jay off, "Hailey picked her up? Hailey Upton?"

"Yeah," Jay answered. "Apparently she'll give out her phone number to the kids in case they need to get home safe from somewhere after prom and homecoming. And, Y/N called her and not me."

"I wouldn't call you either," Will joked. "You'd probably scream at her in front of everyone at the party."

"I would not!" Will cocked his head to the side. "Okay, maybe, but that's beside the point. All that matters is that Y/N had the wherewithal to know that she couldn't drive and she solved that problem. God, Will, the amount of adrenaline that left my body when I saw her get out of that car was astronomical."

"I bet. So, do you know where she went?"

"I just know it was some party. She got lectured when she got home, don't worry about that." Jay put his head in his hands.

"What? What's wrong, Jay?"

"Anything could've happened to her, Will, and I wouldn't have been there to protect her. I wouldn't have been able to protect my own kid."

"Jay, you can't blame yourself. Hell, most teenagers do this stuff."

"I know, I know. It's just that her grades have been slipping slightly and I'm wondering if I should have her transfer schools." Your eyes widened as you listened to that part of the conversation. "Maybe, having her dad teach at the same school isn't helping her. She went to a party, Will. Maybe it's the kids she's meeting in class, maybe being at another school would be better for her."

"Jay, you can't make a decision like that based on one stupid decision the kid did." He knew his brother was torn up about this, so he changed the subject. "What'd Hailey say?"

"I offered to pay for her gas, but she shut me down."

"Anything else?"

Jay sighed. He knew his brother wouldn't let up. "We're going out for coffee tomorrow to grade. She said I can repay her by buying her coffee there."

"Aw, you're going on a date."

"It is not a date! It's just two coworkers working in a coffee shop together...in their off time."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

A few minutes later, the conversation was over and Jay walked Will out, so you made your way to your room.

One thing was for sure: you were not giving your dad another opportunity to even think about you switching schools.

It was time to grind...starting tomorrow because you desperately needed to sleep right now.

***

You woke up around 11:00 the next day, which was Sunday. Then you got up and went downstairs to eat some breakfast.

"Morning," your dad said. "I made breakfast sandwiches. There's two in the fridge if you want one...or both."

"Thanks," you said. You wanted to ask if he was still mad, but you didn't really want to have an argument right when you woke up.

But, being around teenagers all day must've given your dad a sixth sense.

"Listen, kid, I'm not mad at you if that's what you're worried about. You just... you scared me last night. If something happened to you because I couldn't protect you-- because, as a parent, it is my first responsibility to keep you safe. Anyway, if I couldn't keep you safe because I didn't know where you were, I would never be able to forgive myself."

"Can I tell you why--"

"No. As a teacher at the school, the less I know the better. I really don't want to have to tell the administration and then get kids suspended from their sports for drinking. So, all I know is that you snuck out, went to a party, and drank. I don't wanna know who else was there or whose house it was at."

"But, I--"

"Y/N, end of discussion. Now, I have to go and meet Hail-- Miss Upton, for coffee since she so graciously picked you up when you made a bad decision last night. Don't do anything stupid when I'm gone or else you will be in trouble, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it. I'm just gonna study for the SATs."

"Good idea. Be back later. I love you."

"Love you, too, Dad."

***

"...And whatever she's having," Jay said and slid over so that the barista could input Hailey's order.

"Just a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew, please," Hailey ordered.

Jay paid and then he and Hailey waited by the other side of the counter for their drinks to be ready.

Jay laughed. "You and my daughter have the same taste. You both like vanilla sweet cream cold brews."

"I'm shocked you let her get that with the amount of caffeine in cold brew," she said.

"Eh, it's just like once a week. On my rest day when I don't have to be at school before dawn to run, I'll grab her and I something from Starbucks, and then she'll just stop by my room to get it before school starts."

"That's nice of you," Hailey mused.

"Yeah, but nothing compared to Miss I have coffee in my room for the kids and you can drink as much as you want Upton."

"If you've ever heard kids talk about how little sleep they get like I do since I teach AP classes, then you'd get why I do that, Halstead. I hear kids saying that they normally only get four hours of sleep a night because they're up so late doing homework. While I don't think they should become dependent on caffeine at such a young age and need to be getting a lot more sleep than that, they need to stay awake during school. That's also probably the reason why you and I don't give a lot of homework."

"And it's ridiculous how early school starts anyway," Jay said and grabbed their drinks off the counter.

"I'll drink to that," Hailey laughed and then poked her straw in her cold brew and took a sip.

Once they took their seats, they talked a little before starting to grade and lesson plan.

"Not to pry or anything," Hailey began, "but did you ground Y/N? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to, I'm not her parent, so I know I'm not the least bit entitled to that information."

"Well, you did pick her up when she needed help, so I'd say you are entitled to that information," Jay chuckled. "But, to answer your question, no I didn't ground her just because I was so relieved that she was home. The amount of adrenaline and cortisol that dropped in my body when I saw her get out of your car was amazing, Hailey. Thank you so much." He paused and took a sip of his cappuccino. "But, we did have a talk about how she shouldn't be doing that because it's dangerous and if something happened to her, that I wouldn't be able to help her and since I'm her parent, my first job is to keep her safe. She does know that if she sneaks out or goes to a party again, I will be grounding her, though."

"Well, you had a much different and a way better reaction than my dad did when he learned that I snuck out," Hailey muttered.

But, Jay had great hearing and heard her. He put down his coffee and furrowed his eyebrows. "What happened? You don't have to tell me anything you aren't comfortable with."

"Why did you become a teacher?" Hailey asked instead.

"Why did I become a teacher?" Jay repeated and Hailey nodded. "Well, as you know I was in the Rangers in Afghanistan and, while I was there I saw so many kids walking super far to schools or us accompanying children to school. They had to go through so much just to get to school, and I wanted to make a difference in kids' lives here Stateside. So, when I came home, I enrolled in college and got my degrees in education and a minor in history." Hailey had known that he was a veteran, which explained why he took every September 11 off, but she didn't know he became a teacher because of what he saw over there. "What about you?" he asked. "You went into social work before you became a teacher, right?"

For the past almost month and a half, the two teachers had been eating lunch together in either Hailey or Jay's classroom, and during those, they obviously talked about their experience with education and what made them want to go into the teaching field. Hailey mentioned one time that she was originally a social work major but then switched it to education. But, Jay didn't know why.

"Yeah, yeah, I was originally a social work major. But, it uh, it brought up some really bad memories and I didn't think I could handle being around that all day," Hailey answered, staring directly at her coffee.

Jay cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean? Again, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"Um, it's okay. It's a part of my past. So, why I said that you were a lot nicer to Y/N when she snuck out was because, well, when my dad found out that I did, he uh, he..." she trailed off.

Jay's gaze was soft and sad as he finished for her. "Physical?" he asked, referring to the type of abuse she had endured as a child and teenager.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Hailey, I am so, so sorry that happened to you. I'm honored that you'd tell me this."

"It's uh, it's why I give those kids my phone number in case they need help. And, at the beginning of the year, it's on my syllabus, too," she said.

"In case they need a way out, they can call you," Jay said, piecing it together.

Hailey nodded.

Jay reached across the table and gently grabbed Hailey's hand in his. "You're a good woman, Hailey Upton."

She smiled sadly and nodded, grounding herself by focusing on the feeling of Jay's hand in hers.

"Do you want to get started on grading now?" she asked after a minute had passed.

"That might be a good idea," Jay laughed. Then, he let go of Hailey's hand. But, neither of them wanted that little handhold to end.

***

One month later

God, you were in pain. You didn't wanna get out of bed; you just wanted to sleep. Hell, you needed sleep.

Over the past month, you had thrown yourself into studying. You wanted to stay at this school. You loved all your teachers and you didn't want to leave your friends, especially your best friend Emma. And, you were also scared that if you had to transfer schools, that you might not do well on your AP exams or that you'd have a bunch of other requirements that the new school had that you'd have to do the last half of your junior year and during the entirety of your senior year.

You didn't want any of that.

So, you had come up with a plan.

The day after homecoming and that next week, you studied an hour or two hours later than normal. But, you still felt that you had work to do if you didn't want your dad to transfer you at the end of the semester. So, during your study hall hour, you'd go to the teachers and ask how you could get your B+ up to an A- or your A- up to an A. You'd even review questions you got wrong on quizzes so that you could get them right when those types of questions showed up on the tests.

Yes, the teachers probably thought you were crazy because you had good grades already and were trying to be Little Miss Perfect (or they thought that you were trying to get into another scholarship bracket for college or trying to become valedictorian), but you didn't care if you looked crazy. You wanted to finish your high school career at the school you were at now.

Also during this time, you had been "going to sleep" around 10:00-11:00, which was your normal time, just so that your dad didn't get suspicious. But, what you'd actually do was sleep for an hour-ish and then get up and study more.

It started with you studying until midnight and at the latest 1:30 in the morning...and then you'd wake up five hours later at 6:30. It wasn't ideal, but you could manage. Because, since your dad went to school earlier than you, you just brought extra coffee to school and he didn't notice a thing.

But, since all the teachers wanted to get their tests in before Thanksgiving break, for the past two weeks, you had been doing your power nap thing so your dad assumed that you were asleep, and then would wake up and do homework and study until 3:00-3:30 in the morning. This meant, that during the week, you were running on just three to three and a half hours of sleep a night. And, it wasn't like you could catch up a ton on the weekend, or else your dad would get suspicious. So, you just got like seven or maybe eight hours of sleep on the weekends. So, you were constantly in a state of sleep debt and in desperate need of caffeine.

You had done the extra cup of coffee for the first two weeks, but for the past two weeks, you had been drinking two cups of coffee at your house before school and finishing the second cup at school right before classes start, but then going into Miss Upton's classroom and getting another cup of coffee. Then, you'd also get another one from her room a little after lunch. (You made sure to never go in there during her lunch period because your dad and her still ate lunch together and you didn't want him to get suspicious.) Also, sometimes you and Emma would go to Starbucks to study after school. So, lately, you had been averaging four to five cups of coffee during the week and just two on the weekends. Because, again, you couldn't have your dad getting suspicious.

And, your dad and Miss Upton ran together in the morning before school now, so you really had to be careful about what you told Miss Upton. You couldn't have her telling your dad that you were drinking a couple additional cups of coffee. You just told her that your coffee never stayed warm long enough when you brought it from home, which is why you opted for hers. And, she bought it.

To cover the bags under your eyes, you had been wearing a bit of extra foundation and cover-up. And, to make sure that your dad didn't notice at home, you'd wash off all your makeup after school, but then quickly redo the area under your eyes.

So far, he was oblivious.

But, for a week and a half, your stomach had been super achy and you couldn't stand to eat anything in the morning before you had at least one cup of coffee. So, what would typically happen was that you'd end up eating a bowl of overnight oats in your car in the school parking lot before walking inside so that your coffee had time to digest. You figured out that you were fine after that. Well, it was still achy, but not as bad as in the morning.

God, you wish you were at that point right now.

For the past five days, you've been feeling nauseous and your stomach has been achy, but in the morning, there'd be a stabbing pain before you had any coffee. You'd roll out of bed when your alarm went off and go straight downstairs to get coffee because that seemed to be the only thing--besides ibuprofen--that would alleviate the pain.

But right now, right now was the worst you had ever felt in your entire life. You felt like someone was stabbing your stomach and it wouldn't let up. You felt nauseous like you'd puke any second. And, trying to get into another position didn't help. Nothing helped.

Fuck, you had to swallow your pride and your secrecy and go tell your dad.

You needed help and you needed it now.

So, you got up. But, that just made it worse. You swallowed, trying to keep the lump in your throat and not have it go on the floor.

You whimpered and then walked a few steps and opened your bedroom door.

Then, you threw yourself on the floor and crawled across the hallway.

You held your breath as you stood up, anticipating a ton of pain--which came--when you stood up and opened the door to your dad's room.

Then, you went back on the floor and crawled in there with tears streaming down your face.

It took all your energy to whisper, "Daddy."

***

Jay blinked sleepily. He thought he heard his daughter mumble "Daddy", which she hadn't called him in years. But, then he heard it again.

He looked down and saw a figure curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Daddy, make it stop, please," you whimpered.

He quickly flicked on the light so that he could get a better look at you.

"Y/N, baby, what's wrong?" he asked quickly when he saw your tears, your face contorted in pain, and how jagged your breathing was.

"Hurts," you whimpered as more tears fell and you clutched your stomach.

He jumped out of bed and knelt down next to you. "Your stomach?" he asked urgently. You nodded. "Can you sit up?"

You nodded and leaned against his bed. But, that was a bad idea because the minute you were upright, you puked right down yourself. You groaned and pressed down more on your stomach, which just caused you to vomit more and more.

The minute you started to vomit, Jay looked at the clock. He started to soothe you by rubbing your back, but then quickly stopped and ran into the adjoining bathroom to grab the trashcan and put it underneath your mouth instead.

"There you go, there you go," he soothed as he held the trashcan with one hand and rubbed your back with the other. "Get it out. It's okay. It's okay. I'm right here. I'm right here, Y/N."

But, when you puked for almost four minutes straight and were still in pain after, Jay knew something was seriously wrong.

"Don't get up, you'll make it worse," he said. You nodded weakly. "I'm gonna go grab you some water and Gatorade and put those and a bowl in the car. Then, we're gonna go to Med to get you checked out." You nodded again. "I'll be right back. I love you."

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and then sprinted off into the kitchen to grab the stuff he previously mentioned. Then, he ran outside and unlocked his car, turned it on to start heating up, put that stuff in the backseat, and sprinted back inside.

"Y/N, you still awake?" he asked when he walked back into his room.

"Mhm," you hummed with your eyes still closed and your hands still clutching your stomach.

"Okay, I'm gonna throw on a hoodie and my shoes, and then I'm gonna run into your room and grab you some shoes and a hoodie because it's pretty cold out. Are you okay here?" you nodded slowly. "Okay, I'll be right back. Don't get up."

Five minutes later, you had your shoes and hoodie on. You weren't much help getting those on; your dad basically had to dress you as if you were a baby again.

"I'm gonna pick you up and bring you to the car and we're gonna go to Med to see Uncle Will."

"Uh huh," you said, letting your dad know that you had heard him. Then, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and soon felt the chill of the late November air and then the leather seats of your dad's truck on your back and the warmth of the truck.

"There's water and Gatorade. I want you to take a few sips," your dad said. "There's a bowl, too in case you have to puke again."

You drank a few sips of Gatorade and then laid back down and closed your eyes.

As your dad backed out of the driveway, he called Will to explain the situation and tell him that the two of you were on your way to Chicago Med.

After the call, he threw his phone into the passenger seat and reached his left hand into the backseat, and grabbed one of your hands. You gripped your dad's hand weakly as he drove as fast he could to Chicago Med.

He had to make sure that his little girl was okay.

***

"We've got a treatment room right here," Maggie said when she saw Jay sprinting into the ED with you in his arms.

She quickly led him to it and he laid you down in the bed.

Will rushed in with Natalie and April a few seconds later.

"Y/N, Y/N, can you hear me?" Natalie asked.

"Hurts," you mumbled.

"Jay," Will started, "did she puke on the way here at all?"

"No, no, she didn't. She just puked for almost four minutes straight at home and it's worse when she sits or stands up. She's been clutching her stomach since she woke up."

"Gonna- gonna--" you started to heave and a pink basin was thrust under your mouth and then you emptied the few sips of Gatorade into the basin. You started to cry even harder once you finished. "Make it stop, make it stop! Please make it stop!"

Natalie turned to your dad. "Do we have permission to administer medications?"

"Please," he answered, his voice cracking. He was terrified. He was terrified something was seriously wrong. He had never seen you in so much pain. "You have permission. Just please help her."

April pushed antinausea and pain medications as well as a light sleeping medication because it was apparent that, along with puking and being in a world of pain, you were also utterly exhausted.

"Y/N," April started, "you're going to get sleepy soon. But, can you give us your pain level on a scale of one to ten?"

"Ten. My stomach hurts at a ten," you answered while tears still ran down your face.

"Did you eat anything you weren't used to? Drink anything?"

"No, no," you panted. "Just- just lots of coffee. Not a lot of sleep. Studying."

Will and Natalie shared a look. They knew what this could be. And, at least they got it out of you now, because it was clear that the meds were starting to work and you were fading fast.

"Hun," Natalie began, "we're gonna leave April in here with you in case you get sick again. Is it okay if me, your Uncle Will, and your dad have a chat outside real quick?"

"Want my dad. Please."

Natalie smiled sadly. "Okay, he'll stay. We can talk to him later."

Your dad reached for your hand and held it and rubbed his thumb over the top while you drifted into a medication-induced sleep.

Five minutes later, you were out.

Jay looked at his brother. "What's going on? What's wrong with my kid?"

"From what she told us, it sounds like the acid in the coffee she's been drinking has been irritating her stomach lining. Has she been drinking a lot of coffee lately?" Will asked.

"Not that I've noticed. But, sometimes there's a little less in the coffee pot than I think there should be. But, even if she is drinking two cups, that can't cause this, can it?" Jay asked worriedly.

"No, two cups shouldn't. But, if she isn't sleeping a lot, sometimes lack of sleep can make people feel pretty crappy. So, if she's drinking more than her normal amount of caffeine and not sleeping, then that could be what's causing it."

"But, she goes to bed at her normal time," Jay argued.

"That doesn't mean that she's sleeping. She could be lying awake in bed. Has she seemed more tired to you?"

"No, not that I've noticed. Uh, what do I do, Will? Can't you run some tests?"

"I mean, I can run one to see if she's sleep-deprived, it's a plasma cortisol test. If her levels are elevated, that means she's not getting enough sleep. But, it wouldn't give us the reason why her stomach's hurting so bad and why she's nauseous and vomiting," Will answered.

"Then don't run the test," Jay said. "If it's not going to figure out the problem, then I don't want to put her through that. But, what do we do?"

"If it's what I think, an irritated stomach lining, then we keep her for observation for a few days, ween her off of caffeine to a healthy amount, give her antinausea and pain medications, and just wait for her to go home until she feels better," Will answered.

"Okay. I guess we wait. You mind grabbing me some coffee?"

Will laughed because they had just been talking about how you had been possibly drinking too much coffee and now Jay was asking for it. "Yeah, I can do that. My shift ends in an hour, so I'll be down here to wait with you then."

Jay smiled. "Thanks, man."

***

It was 7:30 in the morning the next day, which was Thanksgiving Day, when Jay's phone rang, waking him up. He answered it without checking the caller ID because he didn't want to disturb your peaceful sleep.

"Hello?" he asked groggily.

"Jay? Where are you and Y/N?" he heard Hailey's voice through the phone.

Shit, the Turkey Trot, he thought.

He and you always ran the Turkey Trot every Thanksgiving, sometimes dragging Will along if he didn't have to work. Then, you'd have your Thanksgiving feast later in the day. Granted, your dad had to keep pace with you for the entire time, so it really wasn't a race. But, it was a nice bonding experience, so the two (sometimes three of you) kept it up.

Jay had mentioned it to Hailey one morning when they were running the indoor track before school started, and she said she'd sometimes run it, too. So, Jay had invited her to run it with him and you, and she agreed.

You were convinced that Miss Upton and your dad were secretly dating.

But, Miss Upton had been waiting for you and your dad at the designated meeting spot for half an hour now. And, Jay Halstead was not one to be late.

"Listen, me and Y/N aren't going to be able to make it. She had some stomach issues last night and now she's in the hospital and the doctors are trying to figure out what's wrong," Jay said.

"Oh my God," she said as she started to walk away from their planned meeting spot and towards the parking garage where she parked her car. "What hospital are you at?"

"Chicago Med," Jay answered. "Why?"

"I'm gonna find someplace that's open and grab breakfast and then I'll be there."

"Hailey, you don't have to."

"Jay, I want to do this. I'll be there within the next hour."

Then, without waiting for him to protest once more, she ended the call.

***

When you woke up a few hours later, you rubbed your eyes, despite the IV in your hand, and rolled over.

"Well good morning, or almost afternoon," your uncle Will said and stood up. "How's the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

"Uh, maybe a six, seven?" you said.

But then, you looked around the room.

Why was Miss Upton here?

"I'll go get a nurse and let you three talk," Will said and then left the treatment room.

You looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows. At the same time, the achiness in your stomach started up again and you clutched it.

"Gonna be sick?" your dad asked.

"I don't know," you answered.

He handed you the pink basin anyway (a clean one because last night's was gross and went off to get cleaned) and you set it on your lap.

"Feel like you can eat anything?" your dad asked. "Hailey brought food...and coffee, but we'll have to check with the nurses about how much coffee you can drink."

"You brought it?" you asked as you looked at Miss Upton.

She smiled. "I did. I called your dad to see why you two weren't at the Turkey Trot yet, and he said you two were here, so I figured I'd find somewhere that's open and get you breakfast." She rummaged around in the bag and pulled out a container. "He mentioned you were having stomach issues so I opted for something light, so the fruit and nut oatmeal from Mcdonald's. I also grabbed a packet of syrup in case you wanted it sweeter."

She passed the food to you along with a spoon and a napkin. "Thank you," you said as you took them from her. "Sorry I messed up your run."

Hailey laughed. "It's okay. My run's the least of my problems. Me and your dad just want you to get better."

You tried to hide your smile. She said she and your dad. She cared about you more than she did other students...and you were just waiting for them to slip up and call each other babe at this point.

"Hey, I'm back," Will announced as he walked into the room. This time, he had Dr. Choi and Monique in tow. "Natalie and April have Thanksgiving off, so you have Dr. Choi as your doctor and Monique as your nurse."

You nodded.

"Hi, Y/N, I'm Dr. Choi, as your brother just mentioned. Monique here is just going to check your vitals." You nodded again. "I understand you've been having some stomach issues. Can you tell me when they started? Any changes to your diet or routine that I should know about?"

Here goes nothing.

You looked at your dad as tears formed in your eyes. "I'm sorry," you said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Your dad moved his chair closer to you and gently grabbed your hand. "Tell me what, baby?"

"I- I went to that party because--"

"Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to know why because I'm a teacher? Me and Miss Upton are both teachers."

"But I didn't go to drink at all! I hadn't even planned on drinking! I didn't even drink a drink!" you yelled, causing Monique to take a step back. You took a deep breath and turned to her. "Sorry, sorry. I'll be calm so you can do your job." After a few breaths, Monique went back to checking your vitals and you continued your story. "These two girls I know from my AP gov class asked me to come to the party to be their DD. So, I went. But, when I was there, I ate the fruit from the punch bowl and I forgot that the fruit absorbs the alcohol. I'm sorry."

"And when you realized what happened, you called Miss Upton?" your dad asked.

"Yeah," you confirmed. "And, I even made sure to give the car keys to one of the girl's boyfriends who wasn't drinking because he plays sports so that they'd get home safely."

Jay smiled slightly; he had taught you well.

"Did you keep drinking consistently after?" Dr. Choi asked. He couldn't see one drink causing all these problems.

"No, God no!" you said. But, then you clutched your stomach and took in a deep breath.

"Pain?" Dr. Choi asked.

"Yeah, it's not as bad as last night, though."

He looked to your dad. "If she wants more pain meds, will you allow it?"

"Yes," your dad answered.

"Do you want more pain meds?" Dr. Choi asked.

"Please," you answered.

So, Monique started to get the pain medication ready to go into your IV and then pushed the meds.

A few minutes later, once the medication had started to work, you continued your story.

"I heard you and Uncle Will talking," you said.

"When?" your dad asked. "Me and Uncle Will talk a lot."

"The night I snuck out. You and Uncle Will were talking and you said that you might make me transfer schools if my grades don't get better. I don't want to transfer schools, Dad."

Your dad sighed. "Kid, I was mad, but in reality, I wouldn't do that. That was just me being angry and trying to find a solution when I wasn't in the right headspace. Were you so nervous that your stomach hurt all the time?" he asked.

"No," you answered. "but, I started staying up later and doing homework."

"Really? You always seemed asleep to me."

"I'd sleep for an hour and then wake up and study more." Your dad sighed. "I'm sorry. And then I was just sleeping for like three hours, so I'd drink four or five cups of coffee a day and my stomach hurt so bad in the morning if I didn't drink any coffee, so I'd eat breakfast in my car before school."

"For how long?" your dad asked. "For how long have you been bottling this up? For how long have you been waiting to eat breakfast?"

"The stomach aches started a week and a half ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." You started to cry harder.

"Hey, hey it's okay. We know what happened now, so hopefully, Dr. Choi and everyone else here can fix it." He looked up at Dr. Choi who had been intently listening as well. "Right, Doc?"

Dr. Choi smiled. "That's right, Y/N. And, what it seems to me is that you've just been drinking too much coffee, and coupled with the lack of sleep, have had abdominal cramping and nausea due to all the caffeine irritating your stomach lining. So, what we'll do is ween your caffeine intake back down to one to two cups of coffee per day, not go cold turkey because you'll probably feel pretty crappy if we did that, and then continue giving you pain meds and antinausea meds. We'll probably keep you here a few days upstairs in a recovery room just for observation to make sure nothing else is going on."

"So, I have to spend my whole Thanksgiving break in the hospital?" you asked.

"I'm afraid so," he answered.

"Well, this sucks." You looked at the table next to Miss Upton. "Is that coffee for me?"

"It is. I don't know if you can have it, though," she answered.

"She can have it," Dr. Choi answered. "Just, no more after this one seeing as that's a large."

You nodded.

"I got you a vanilla iced coffee. Since apparently, we have the same taste because your dad said you also like vanilla sweet cream cold brews as much as me," Miss Upton said and then handed you the coffee.

"Seeing as everything looks good, me and Monique will check on you later." He turned to the three adults in the room. "If she pukes up that food or her stomach pain gets worse, come get us."

"Will do, Doc," your dad answered.

"Jay," Hailey started, "can I talk to you for a minute? Outside?"

Jay furrowed his eyebrows slightly but nodded. "Of course. Be right back, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad," you said.

Then, your dad and Miss Upton left the room.

Outside the treatment room, Hailey took a deep breath, grounding herself as she prepared to talk to Jay.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out.

"For what?" Jay asked, utterly confused.

"I knew she was drinking extra coffee but didn't tell you! Well, she told me when she brought it from home, that it would get cold too fast, so she always came to my room and had two cups during the day. If I knew she was drinking some at home, too, I would've never let her have any. I'm so, so sorry, Jay!"

"Hailey," Jay began and placed his hands on her shoulders, "it's not your fault. Hell, I didn't even notice it and she's my daughter."

"I know, but I just feel slightly responsible for her being in that hospital bed--"

"It's not your fault, Hailey. I promise. I don't blame you one bit and I know Y/N doesn't either."

Meanwhile, back in the treatment room, you really needed to use the bathroom.

"Uncle Will?" you asked, causing him to look up from his phone where he was trying to figure out what restaurants were open for dinner on Thanksgiving. He really didn't want him and his family eating hospital cafeteria food for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Hmm?" he hummed and gave you his full attention.

"I really need to go to the bathroom," you told him.

He pocketed his phone and stood up and moved over to you. "Okay, I'm gonna help you up and with one arm, I'll hold on to you and with the other, I'll hold onto the IV pole for you. Is that okay?" You nodded. "Do you think you'll need help in the bathroom? I can grab a nurse if you need me to," he offered.

"No, just help me to the bathroom, please. I should be good when I get in there."

"Okay." Then, he helped you up and the two of you made your way over to the bathroom where he stood and waited while you went inside.

Back with Hailey and Jay, Jay reassured Hailey once again that none of this was on her.

"If anything," Jay began, "I should be thanking you. You got Y/N home safe after that party."

"Jay, we've been over this. I would've done it for any one of my students," she said.

"But, would you take their dad up on their offer of buying you coffee if it wasn't my kid you picked up?" Jay asked and tilted his head to the side.

"Probably not," Hailey said, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"Can I ask why?" She stayed silent. "Listen, Hailey, it's been a long time since I've seen you as just a fellow teacher," Jay admitted.

She looked up at him. "Since we're all sharing secrets today, it's been a long time since I've seen you as a fellow teacher, too, Jay."

Jay smiled and moved a piece of her hair behind her ear. He leaned in. "Can I?" he asked.

He didn't get a response because she quickly pressed her lips against his. It was the kiss she had been waiting for since she asked him to eat lunch with her that first week of school.

You and your uncle Will had chosen that exact time to make your way back to your treatment room. You two had seen everything: your dad putting a strand of Hailey's hair behind her ear and them leaning in and kissing.

You were glad that one of your hands was free because you whacked Will across the chest in excitement.

It was finally happening!

Jay and Hailey pulled away and looked at each other and smiled.

"I uh, I hope that was okay," Hailey said quietly.

"Oh, it was more than okay. I'd happily do that again, but we should probably get back into Y/N's room. She's probably wondering what's taking us so long," Jay said.

Hailey laughed. "Probably."

The two turned around and saw you and Will standing thirty feet away. Jay's eyes widened. "Uh..." he trailed off as Hailey blushed hard.

"Finally!" you exclaimed.

"Yeah, I agree with Y/N on this one," Will laughed. "But, who would've thought? A government teacher and an English teacher?" He started to help you walk back to your treatment room but turned his head back to Jay and Hailey. "Oh, don't stop on our account."

"Will!"

A/N: hank you guys so, so, so much for reading! Again, please remember to like/reblog and comment because I love reading all your comments and seeing that you liked/reblogged because that means you enjoyed reading the imagine! Again, I am donating all my proceeds on buy me a coffee until the end of AU-gust to Save The Children to help the children in Afghanistan. Buy me a coffee here.

As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’d be happy to add you!

Taglist: @theambracer88@virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

65 notes · View notes

trini-trin-trin · 3 years

Text

Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

#andre aciman #CMBYK Book #call me by your name #cmbyn #elio x oliver

102 notes · View notes

the-bjd-community-confess · 3 years

Text

More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #TrueBJDConfessions #BJD Dealers

11 notes · View notes

jpegjade · 4 years

Text

Missing - Spencer

Requests:

Hey! I just thought of an idea where Spencer and the reader are dating but no one on the team knows, but when the reader goes missing or gets hurt or something they all figure it out??

Hi! I have a request 🥰 Could you write something where the reader gets captured by an unsub and spence/the team save her just in time??

Warnings: Aight yall, we’ve got some unsub angst. Light talk about the case and really angsty shit. Kidnapping. If you feel like you’re not able to handle it at any point while you’re reading, stop reading! Mental health first!

_______________

“SON OF A BITCH.” Reid yelled for the third time this morning.

He was panicking and no one on the team could figure out why this was affecting him so badly. They knew you guys were close friends but you were close with everyone on the team. You were the second resident tech genius in the building but you were out in the field, on the trips, as a way to get another handle on things. They thought this would affect Penelope more than it would affect anyone else but Spencer wouldn’t calm down.

It had been 12 hours since you had gone missing. It wasn’t like you to stop answering his calls, ignore his texts, or leave the house. You were happy, overjoyed just to be with him. You wouldn’t take off like this. This wasn’t like you.

“Reid, calm down.” Hotch said for the third time. .

“She isn’t the type to just run off or go anywhere without letting me know. She’s a little paranoid considering the last time she stopped contacting us was because she was kidnapped. And now this.” Reid was pacing and he wouldn’t stop moving.

“We need to look at the victimology. Treat this like we would treat any other case, no matter how closely it hits to home for all of us.” Hotch said, pulling up the file.

There wasn’t much to find. Penelope went through your emails, nothing strange. Just a lot of fanfiction about bands, movie characters, tv shows. You even wrote some occasionally.

Morgan and Reid checked your apartment for any clues. Nothing out of the ordinary, no signs of struggle. There was nothing to suggest that you were anything but normally living there.

JJ and Hotch looked at any recent kidnappings in the area that might have been similar to yours. Of course, they put out an APB with local police but there was nothing to suggest that you were in distress.

Your mom didn’t know where you were and you didn’t have the best relationship with your dad in the past but recently, you were trying to reconcile. That was odd to him but he admitted that he liked it. None of your immediate family could tell Spencer a thing about you and he wondered how in the world they could call themselves your family when they knew almost nothing about you. You had mentioned you weren’t close to anyone anymore but he didn’t think it was this bad…

Sitting in the parked car, Derek looked over at Spencer. “I hate to say it, I really do, but maybe she just took off. Maybe she went on a last minute vacation and-”

“She wouldn’t do that. Not to me.” Spencer said, realizing he was making it really personal. “We’re her family. She wouldn’t just run from us. We have to find her.”

“What’s up baby girl? Tell us something good.” Derek said, answering the phone.

“I would love to go back and forth with you but you’re three blocks away from y/n’s cell phone. It’s moving so wherever it is, that’s where she is. Sending you a location stream now.” Garcia hung up and Derek saw exactly where the phone was.

He drove like hell to get to you. Spencer’s heart raced so fast that he could barely believe it. This came out of nowhere. When Garcia tried to find your phone earlier, it was turned off so there was no signal. Thank god your phone came back on but there was something nagging at him. Why did your phone come back on when whoever took you was so careful to make sure you couldn’t be found. Maybe they wanted you to be found.

The address led to a parking garage. As painful as it was, Morgan had to climb slowly up the garage to see everything. For the most part, it was empty because it was getting late. The sun was setting and in this part of town, everything closed early on Fridays. Each level seemed like it took forever to climb up until they reached the top of the garage, where you were standing near the ledge. THere was someone with you, a hooded figure.

“FBI, step away from the girl.” Morgan said, hopping out of the car with his gun raised. Spencer raised his as well, already expecting this to go south.

You were calm, quiet. You turned around slowly and gave Spencer a knowing smile. Spencer’s heart sank. He knew that smile. You were scared but doing your best not to show it. You wanted to show him that whatever happened, you would be okay with it. Everything was going to be okay.

“How nice of you to show up.” The hooded figure stepped behind you, using you as a shield. You felt something solid press against your back and you froze. Your smile faltered and Spencer saw it. You were terrified and trying hard to not spur the unsub on, not communicate to Spencer.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen.” Spencer said, slowly stepping forward, gun trained on the unsub. “What you’re going to do is step away from my girlfriend and come with us where we will take you in and get you the help you need. All you need is a little help.”

The unsub took the gun from being pressed to your back and pointed it at your head, resting on your temple. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to focus on Spencer. You had to keep your focus on Spencer or you wouldn’t make it. Tears streamed down your face, steady and unrelenting, but you tried your best to keep your breathing steady.

“You think I forgot. You think you could move on from me. You thought I wasn’t going to track you down and ruin your life, didn’t you, Spencer Reid?” It finally clicked for Spencer and his blood ran cold.

There was a girl he broke up with a few years prior. She was absolutely crazy about him and he was crazy about her until the relationship started going sour. It became something that Spencer didn’t recognize and when she started getting into this really dark stuff, Spencer ended things. Gently, of course, but she was devastated.

“I wanted so damn long for this. I’ve been watching you, watching her. Watching you look at her the way you looked at me. I’ve been planning this for years and you didn’t even notice. You were so consumed with this piece of trash that you didn’t realize what was happening.” The unsub pressed the gun harder to your head, the cold metal on your skin.

“Spence, baby. It’s okay.” You said, smiling a sad smile. You knew what was going to happen to you next and you weren’t scared. You were at peace with everything. The man you adored and loved was there for you the whole time. He never stopped looking. You didn’t have to die alone.

“Baby. You make me sick.” The unsub said, making a gagging sound.

It pissed Spencer off how it sounded like a game to the unsub. Leah. Her name was Leah. And he remembered every moment with her, good and bad. But you know what else he remembered? Maeve. He remembered trying to reason with the unreasonable and Leah was definitely unreasonable. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

He tapped the right side of his gun twice. He watched your eyes widen in recognition.

“I love you, baby.” You said, smiling a sad smile. You knew he was going to try to save you but if it didn’t work, then he needed to know how you felt.

“This is going to be fun. Taking her away from you is-” That was the last thing Leah said before a loud pop sounded and her body dropped to the ground. Head shot.

You crumpled to the ground, body wracked in sobs you had been holding in all day. You were inconsolable and terrified, even though the worst was over. Morgan looked at Spencer as he ran over to you, bringing you into his arms.

“I’m right here. I’m right here.” He kept repeating as you continued to sob. Loud and heavy, you were in shock and just kept crying.

Soon enough, an ambulance came. You guessed Morgan called for one. The EMTs put you on a stretcher and gave you a shot of some cocktail to help you get some rest. Spencer rode with you to the hospital, holding your hand the whole time. Even sedated, all you could think about was how good Spencer looked in his bulletproof vest. Damn, the boy filled out.

“You’re mine…” You said before blacking out.

At the hospital, once you were situated in a room, Spencer went out to meet the team in the waiting room. Everyone looked relieved when he told them you were sedated but were going to physically be okay. Spencer left out that you weren’t going to be mentally okay for a while because that part was implied.

“So, Morgan tells me you’ve been keeping a secret from us.” Hotch said, crossing his arms.

“I fell in love with her.” Spencer said, looking down at his converse.

“Well, next time you have important information to disclose, such as a relationship to the victim in one way or another, be upfront about it.” Hotch said.

“Aww,” JJ and Garcia said as soon as Hotch was done.

“I’m looking for Mr. Reid.” A nurse came by the waiting room said. “Your wife is awake.”

“Oh she’s…” The nurse turned around and started walking Spencer to your room. Spencer assumed you told them the two of you were married so he could come back and see you past visiting hours.

“Hey wifey,” Spencer said, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“Yeah, she was going to kick you out if you weren’t married to me or related. We look nothing alike so I went with the latter. And I really need my husband right now…” You said, a fresh tear rolling down your face.

Spencer wiped it away with his thumb and climbed into bed with you. The only sound coming from the tv. You were about to say something when he started getting sleepy again. Before you or Spencer could talk about everything that happened, you were asleep again. Peacefully asleep and safe in his arms.

______________

Tags:

@winchestertardis

@ancailinaerach

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #mgg #criminal minds #angst #spencer reid angst

307 notes · View notes

thorne93 · 4 years

Text

The Stars Made Us (Part 1)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge -- You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 1857

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since you were little, you’d heard the legends. The legend of soulmates. It was as common as Santa Claus or winning the lottery. Some weren’t sure they believed it, because although it was real, it was so rare that people didn’t know how to feel about it. Perhaps it was like believing in ghosts. Documented cases, proof, eye witness accounts weren’t enough to sway some skeptics. Yet, it had to be real because there was a registry, much like when you go to get your license or file a birth certificate or a social security number. There was a system in place to keep track of soulmates.

While others, mainly hopeless romantics, truly believed in soulmates. You heard whispers of it when people talked of their grandparents “perfect marriage” and how they just had to be soulmates. You’d heard some kids on the playground swear their cousin just got their soulmate.

Now, it wasn’t for everyone. It was a rarity, and much like winning the lottery, it only happened to a select few.

The few were seemingly random. Everyone from celebrities and CEOs down to starving artists and people who managed grocery stores. It touched all races, religions, and economic status. It was global. It wasn’t unheard of for a South American woman to be mated with a French man. Or one Australian to find their mate within Africa.

Stories of epic journeys to find their love and mate had been told as bedtime stories. Heart wrenching stories of soulmates who never got to be together.

The idea of soulmates was so endowed in the world and in history that it was rare enough to be celebrated, but common enough to be easily accepted. That’s why, when people walked with scars all over their body, formed in words, people didn’t even think twice.

That’s how it worked. On people’s 18th birthday, their soulmate was assigned, if they had one. Writing on any part of your skin would show up on your mate’s skin as a scar, and vice-versa. For two days out of the year, their birthdays, they could communicate this way.

The only downside was that you couldn’t give out your information to your mate -- that part was up to the universe. When they needed you most, their name and address would show up on your arm. It could be life or death, it could be a mental breakdown, it could be that they’re hurt and need a friend. But until then, you shouldn’t share personal information. People had done it before, met their mates before the universe decided it was time, and awful things tended to happen.

But if they were patient enough, willing enough to wait for the right day, it would all be worth it and they were usually guaranteed a happy life.

Even though you grew up with this knowledge, you’d let it fall to the wayside in your mind. School and friendships took precedence, and you led your life normally. Every now and again, like on birthdays, a fleeting thought of the prospect of a soulmate would run through your head, but for the most part, you filed it away as a fantasy.

That was, until your best friend Jenny reminded you of it on your 18th birthday.

You were having a party at your house. A group of about ten friends and you went out and played mini-golf, then had pizza at your house with cake and gifts, then watched a new movie. Your parents gave you money to buy a lottery ticket for fun, and gave you some money for college.

Nearly everyone had gone home, and your parents already wished you a happy birthday with hugs and kisses before going off to bed. All that was left were you and Jenny, and she was about to walk out the door.

“I’m just saying, you’re 18 now,” she stated as she walked.

“Yeah, I gathered that when I counted 18 candles on the cake, what’s your point?” you asked with a smile.

“My point is, maybe you should try and see if you’ve got a soulmate.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Jenny, the odds of me having a soulmate are like 1 in a million. It’s a silly idea.”

“That’s been true. You know it and I know it. What’s the harm in finding out? I just had a cousin last year that found out. She wrote some appointment down when she was 21, her soulmate got it and wrote back.”

You perched an eyebrow at her. “How romantic.”

“I’m serious! Come on, how cool would it be?”

“It would be kind of neat,” you admitted sheepishly, grinning. “But if no one writes back--”

“Then you haven’t lost anything, and you’ll find someone great later in life. No harm, no foul. Right?” She gave you that super convincing gorgeous smile before dropping her pushiness. “Alright, alright. Just think about it, okay? Happy birthday,” she said before hugging you tightly.

“Thanks,” you said back.

With that, you cleaned up the kitchen and living room, gathered your gifts, and headed up to bed. You pulled on your pajamas and crawled into your bed, you sat there, thinking about what Jenny had said.

What would be the harm in writing on your arm? If no one spoke back, it was no big deal, right?

But if they didn’t write back, would you be saddened? You’d always secretly hoped you had a soulmate out there, so to find out you didn’t have one would be a little devastating. Of course, your life wouldn’t be over, and like Jenny said, you could always find a partner just like you normally would.

Ultimately, it was just a schoolgirl fantasy… but what if it wasn't? you wondered idly as you sat with your leg propped up on the bed.

You grabbed a pen off your nightstand and took a deep breath, trying to think of the best thing to ask - this would be scarred on them indefinitely after all.

You thought, and you thought, pondering anything you could say. But what do you say to a potential soulmate? Finally, you decided there was no perfect way to go about this, and you put your pen to your arm, writing: Is anyone out there?

You held your breath for a second, wondering if you’d get a scar somewhere in response, even bracing for some form of pain, but after a few moments -- nothing. Nothing happened.

You sighed. Well, it was a long shot anyway.

After lying in bed disappointed for a while, a feather light sensation came crawling across your arm. You frowned for a split second before glancing down and seeing the letters. Instantly, a grin grew wide across your face.

“Hi there. : )”

You wanted to jump for joy. Immediately, your heart soared at the sight. Someone out there was actually fated to be yours? You couldn’t believe this. Why you? You weren’t special.

“This is my email, if you would like to talk more,” you offered, scribbling on your skin before adding in your email. You opted for email since any other form of communication you might be tempted to find out their name.

Within two minutes, a ping noise came from your computer. You sprang from your bed, not even caring that you were the epitome of a school girl right that second. You dashed the cursor over to your inbox and read the new email.

“Hello. So I suppose this means we’re soulmates...”

“I suppose it does,” you wrote back, a giant grin on your face.

“We should probably get some of the formalities out of the way. What should I call you? How old are you?”

“You can call me… Y/F/I. And I’m 18, today is my birthday. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of people giving out their information before their time. I think we should stick to initials.”

One minute later, in the same penmanship, you felt something on your bicep -- Happy Birthday

The smile on your face lit back up.

“That’s my gift to you. And yes, I have heard of the stories. I would rather be safe than sorry as well. You can call me X. I’m 21. I’m in college, actually in graduate school.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. You’re already in grad school? How? What’s your area of study? I’m going into college in the fall - psychology.”

“I think I should be surprised, but I’m not. That’s what my PhD will be in,” he informed. “As well as genetics and biophysics.”

Well, the universe is funny, isn’t it?

You continued to read his message.

“Long story short, I graduated college at 16. Harvard, if you can believe it.”

Instantly, you were hit with a wave of surprise and shock. Your soulmate was a genius? He was a Harvard grad at 16? In what universe was that possible?

“That’s… really impressive. God I wish I could do that. It’d be amazing to be already done with college. I haven’t even gone there yet but it seems like a lot of work and a lot of stress. Hopefully, the pay off will be worth it though.”

“What are you wanting to do with your degree?”

“Psychiatry.”

“A noble profession.”

“I think so. I’d like to help people, as corny as that sounds.”

“I don’t think it sounds corny at all. Quite admirable, in fact. If people didn’t feel that way, we wouldn’t have good people in the world.”

He already thought you were a good person? you wondered, warmth spreading over you.

“I guess that is one way to look at it. I just want to help people and be a voice for people who don’t exactly have a lot of advocates.”

“That’s precisely why we get into these professions, darling,” he wrote.

Darling? Wow, so far, this guy was the jackpot.

“I suppose it is. So what are some of your favorite books, if you don’t mind me asking? And movies. I feel like a quick way to get to know someone pretty well is through their interests.”

“Indeed it is,” he replied. “I happen to favor T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, as far as books go and I don’t particularly have time for many films.”

“Oh, I see,” you started, and then explained your favorite books and film.

He had asked you why you liked those and you went into a rather lengthy explanation of why you enjoyed them more than others. After that you two talked music, actually having quite a lot in common there.

You stayed up all night emailing, until the sun came up. It wasn’t until the glare hit your computer screen that you realized it, either. You didn’t want to end the magical evening, but you did need rest, and you were sure as a grad student, he needed all he could get as well.

That morning you went to sleep with this newfound relief. It was one less thing you’d have to worry about in life. Worry about finding a mate, a partner for life. They were already there, already perfect, already waiting…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

@yknott81

@sorryimacrapwriter

@glitterquadricorn

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23

@sea040561

@princess76179

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@sarahp879

@malfoysqueen14

@ellallheart

@breezy1415

@marvelmayo

@lyniboy

@paintballkid711

Charles Xavier

@bohemianrhapsody86

@lenawiinchester

#the stars made us #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier fic #charles xavier #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange fic #stephen strange

111 notes · View notes

thadelightfulone · 3 years

Text

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 10

November 24th

Erik texted DeeDee later in the evening after he got off work but they were unable to have another lengthy conversation. Over the next few days, he found himself missing her voice and just wanting to talk to her about her day, what she was up to, anything really.

He didn’t realize how much he missed having that kind of connection with someone who wasn’t his family. Of course, he also never pictured finding someone at all. With all that he had been through and seen. He knew if it wasn’t like what he saw between his parents, then he didn’t want it.

Oddly enough, right when he gave up on finding his once-in-a-lifetime -- someone showed up and challenged his beliefs. Now, he wanted to make sure that if she really was it for him, that he deserved her. But he also needed to talk this out because it was consuming his every thought.

It was Tuesday morning and he was in a meeting with T’Challa and Shuri about their current expansion project. His mind going where it usually did -- thoughts of DeeDee.

“Erik, did you get the numbers for the other warehouse?” T’Challa asked.

“Will you just ask him, who it is? I’m sick of this.” Shuri complained.

They had watched Erik for the last few days and something was going on, but he kept it close to the vest. He always seemed a bit sad around the holidays. But this year, he was acting differently and that was a cause for concern.

“Erik.” T’Challa clapped his hands to get his attention.

“Huh, what?” Erik glanced around the room confused. “Did I miss something?”

“Brother, just ask him. If you don’t I will.” Shuri spoke up.

“Ask me what?”

“Do you -”

“Shuri!” T’Challa stopped her with a glare. “What’s on your mind, Erik?”

“Nothing. I’m good.”

“And he lies to our faces.” Shuri threw her hands up. “Give us some credit, cousin.”

“Erik, you are physically here but your mind has been elsewhere since Sunday.”

“So, who is she?”

“Why do you think it is a woman?” Erik sat back in his chair.

“As business oriented as you are, it’s not about work.”

“When your phone buzzes, you check it immediately.” Shuri crossed her arms over her chest.

At that moment, Erik’s phone vibrated against the glass table and the three cousins broke out in laughter.

“Alright, give me a moment.” He picked up the ringing phone, and left the conference room. “Hello.” He whispered.

“Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Nah, we were just taking a break.”

“Erik, your voice was low like you walked out.” DeeDee scolded. “Did you leave your meeting to talk to me?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

The line was silent. Erik looked at the phone, and knew they were still connected.

“DeeDee?”

“Answer the question, Mr. Erik.”

“Yes and no.”

“Ok, now I’m confused.”

“My cousins were asking some questions, I wasn’t ready to answer yet. Then you called and I used it as my out.”

“Uh huh, ok.” DeeDee sighed into the phone. “Call me, when you actually break for lunch. I’m free for the rest of the day.”

“DeeDee -”

“No, work comes first, Mr. And if you’re good, then we chat.” She chastised him.

“That’s not fair.” Erik pouted, “I want to talk to you.”

“And if you do what you need to do, you can. So, go back and have a productive meeting.”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll go, but I’m gonna text you.”

“And I won’t answer.”

“Seriously?”

“Try me.”

“This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“How? You wouldn’t think that if you didn’t spend your entire Saturday night with me.”

“That was just as much you as it was me.”

“And I am still doing what I need to in the meantime. Can you say the same?”

Erik looked through the window into the conference room where he should be meeting with his cousins. He rolled his eyes, “You make a good point.”

“I know. Now, go. And I don’t expect to hear from you until after 2pm your time, got it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Bye Mr. Erik.” DeeDee ended the call.

He looked at his phone and tried to wipe the grin from his face. But as he walked back into the room, it broke across his face.

“He is like a schoolboy with a crush.” Shuri said when he walked in.

“She must be something because you are giddy.”

“Have you pushed her down or pulled her hair yet?”

“Okay, you can stop with that Shuri.”

“But am I wrong?”

Erik took his seat, then started opening and closing his fists. “Someone found my note.”

“What note?”

“You mean ‘the note’?” T’Challa took a seat. “The one that talks of your parents’ love?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“How did you find out?”

“Marquis heard about someone searching for me on campus. Turns out she is one of his doctoral students.”

“What note?” Shuri, annoyed at being ignored, asked them.

“Erik wrote a note about wanting to find the type of love his parents had. Left it in a book, by accident, and apparently someone has found it.” T’Challa looked at him, “How did she find you?”

“I honestly never asked. I just know that when Quis mentioned it to me, it was a message from another faculty member, who had met her. I told him to give her my address and we spent last week talking via email.”

“But that did not look like an email, when you were outside.”

“This past weekend, we chatted via a video call. I asked for her number before it ended.”

“Interesting.”

“Cousin, I have never seen you so gone over a woman before.”Shuri commented, “What makes her so different?”

“For one, she deciphered the three hidden words on the note. Anyone could have done it, but to read it and then look for the person who wrote it. It intrigued me and well, she intrigues me, too.”

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama @killmonger-fics @beautifullmelodyxx @raysunshine78

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

61 notes · View notes

monster-bait · 4 years

Text

Monster Match: Sebastien the Werecat; M Werecat x F Human, NSFW

Monster Match for @de-couleur: I'm 23, quite independent (I moved from the US to Korea and regularly do solo trips), I LOVE cats (there are cats in the park near my apartment that I made friends with cause I can't have a pet cat), I'm a romantic and I love the "old fashion" romance stuff: bringing a girl flowers, writing love letters, etc. I'd love a guy who has a significant size difference from me (5'3) and loves to cuddle.

The airport was crowded for a Monday

You shifted on the hard bench, breath catching when a fresh wave of arrivals began to flood down the escalator, heading to baggage claim. The conveyor belt before you jerked into motion, luggage making a slow parade before the eager travelers. You watched harried businessmen snatch up sleek black cases, barking into cell phones as they headed to the doors, couples gathering up bags together, and families reuniting.

A young woman came down the escalator, gripping the handle of her carry-on, scouring the crowd with an anxious expression. The moment she found the object of her search was evident by the smile that split her face, the way she bounced lightly on her toes as she waited for the escalator to deliver her to the baggage claim area.

Your insides seemed to swoop and curl as she rushed forward, throwing herself into the outstretched arm of a laughing man, feeling like a voyeur to their happy reunion, an anonymous witness to their clasped hands and their long kiss.

You wondered how Sebastien would greet you.

You had met him two years earlier, shortly after your move, when sakura season had been upon the land. It was the first spring spent in your new home, and you wanted to take a day trip, to get away and experience a leisurely hanami, the viewing of the flowers, when one was meant to enjoy the beauty of the cherry blossoms and reflect on the transient nature of beauty.

After some brief online research, the castle ruins in Maizura park in Fukuoka called to you, the ideal place to enjoy the fleeting beauty of the flowers, and reflect on life. The ferry from Busan to Fukuoka left several times a day, the perfect plan.

He had been there, taking pictures of the ruins.

It had been immediately clear that he was not the average tourist. Compared to the clusters of people taking pictures, his equipment was expensive, and his pace languid and unhurried. You'd admired his striking silhouette in the late-afternoon sun: broad shoulders that tapered to narrow hips and long, graceful limbs. A group of chattering Dutch tourists moved between where you stood and where the handsome man slowly rose from where he’d crouched, regrettably obscuring your view of his nicely rounded backside as he stood.

Your eyes met once they’d passed, as if he’d been waiting, and his smile—sharp and confident—gave you an instant case of the butterflies. He turned back to the ruins a moment later, and you'd continued your stroll, feeling your cheeks warm.

“A karaage chicken and a beer, please.”

The food stalls have been busy, unsurprising considering how crowded the park was that day, and you’d been waiting online for nearly fifteen minutes, mindlessly scrolling your social media until it was your turn to stand before the harried-looking woman taking orders.

“Make that two of each,” a deep voice sounded behind you, his long arm handing over payment before you could blink. The man from the ruins grinned down, his dark eyes crinkled with his smile as your food was passed over the small partition, and you’d found yourself returning the smile with one of your own, the butterflies making themselves known once more.

His name was Sebastien, and his accent was oddly continental, giving you very little clue on where it was he called home. “I’ve lived all over,” he shrugged with another easy smile. “France, Germany, Philippines, the States...we never stayed in one spot for very long when I was growing up.”

“Military brat?”

“Something like that,” he murmured, cocking a dark eyebrow with another grin. “Yours is definitely not a local accent.”

He’d seemed delighted by your confession that you’d picked up and moved to Korea on your own, just for the adventure of it, asking your opinion of the restaurants in your neighborhood, and how you’d assimilated to the cultural differences since your move.

He was a photographer, you’d learned, and might start his week on the Mississippi delta and end it staring up at the stars above the Serengheti. He’d been knowledgeable about the castle ruins, telling you the history of the sight, and when a man passed, selling small hand-ties of flowers in a basket, he bought one for you, declaring that you needed something physical for your hanami experience.

If your cheeks had grown any hotter, you might have combusted.

As you sat together, a cat had come winding through the ruins to stare down your lunch. Strays were plentiful in tourist areas such as this, but you’d never seen one act in such an overtly friendly manner, as the cat rubbed its head against your companion’s shin, mewing plaintively. Even the cats who lived in the park near your apartment had taken a while to warm up to you, although you considered several of them to be your away-from-home pets.

When the sun began to set, a violet sky providing a stunning backdrop to the pink clouds of sakura blossoms on the trees, you’d realized that it was time to leave, to catch your ferry, and say goodbye to him. Handsome, smart, well-traveled...you’d mentally checked off the traits you found the most appealing, finding he possessed an abundance of them. You’d exchanged phone numbers and email addresses, and he’d promised to stay in touch, before he’d kissed you.

There was something different in his kiss, you’d known immediately. Something primal and unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant. You’d briefly dated a werewolf back home, before you’d moved away, and his kiss had possessed the same sort of animal heat that you’d tasted then.

You hadn’t expected to actually hear from him again. The fleeting beauty of flowers, you’d thought on your train ride home, raising the small bouquet he’d given you to your nose, like the fleeting blush of flirtation.

It had been a surprise then, when your phone chimed with a text that same night.

Just making sure you got home alright

Had a lot of fun today!

It had been the start of daily messages. Texts from him would come at all hours, and despite the fact that you were often continents apart, your conversations would continue unabated for days, easy and effortless. His name on your phone screen would often be the last thing you’d see at night, and the messages that he’d sent overnight while you slept gave you a reason to smile, catching up during your daily commute.

Did you see that news story about the werewolf tribe in Malaysia?

You'd bitten your lip, quickly typing the message as your train hurtled through the tunnel one morning. He’d never come out and said that he was something other than human, and you’d never made mention of your suspicions, but you thought it was time to let him know that it didn’t matter to you in the slightest.

The Malay tribe in question had been profiled on a popular world news station, their history and customs discussed openly for the first time.

I did, it’s incredible that they’ve managed to stay so insular all this time

Here goes nothing, you thought, tapping out your reply.

It talked about how painful the change is, especially for young people

Bones breaking and stuff

Is it really like that? Was it that bad for you?

You waited, wedged between other commuters, counting the seconds as your phone remained silent.

You’d walked into work with your heart in your throat, forcing a smile as your co-workers greeted you. You ruined everything. Checking your phone a final time before stashing away your belongings, the black cloud of dread that had gripped you the entirety of the four block walk from the train dissolved, a wave of relief washing up your spine.

Not really, but cats are better than dogs ;)

I wonder if it has much to do with diet?

I’d be curious to see the stats on bone density and childhood malnutrition

I need your address please

Several weeks later you'd received a lovely, hand-painted parasol, along with the first letter.

He couldn't possibly have known that you had a weakness for handwritten notes and letters, you often thought with heated cheeks, couldn't have known how many times you read it, giving it a place of honor upon your desk. When a second came, then a third, you'd picked up a decorative box at a street market to keep them in safely.

He told you about the city skyline, if there was a city wherever he was. Otherwise you received a narration of the wide open sky, the waves on the ocean, of the slope of mountains and the color of wheat. He pondered if you’d prefer the heat of the tropics over the chilly rain and fog of the Scottish highlands, fields of farmland or waves crashing on miles of uninhabited beach.

It was impossible to write him back with the way he traveled. You had to settle for emailing him your responses, long letters full of your ambitions and insecurities, wondering what scared him, what his secret passion were, where he'd like to call home.

You never discussed your letters in your daily text messages, nor in the weekly video calls you tried to make room for. The things you wrote to each other felt too intimate to be discussed in such a pedestrian way, so they were kept to his handwritten missives and the responses you wrote in the glow of your laptop’s screen.

Now he was almost here, back in the flesh, for the first time in two years.

Hello, I'd like to inquire into the sofa for rent in your apartment? Does it come with turn down service?

Two weeks. You'd have him to yourself for two weeks. Truly to yourself, for your roommate had decided not to extend her teaching contract and had flown home just a few days earlier.

You straightened as the next wave of people descended from the upper level, crowding onto the escalator. Your heart began to thump as you considered what kind of visit it would be. You had to consider that your feelings for him might be one-sided. Sebastien's letters, while wildly intimate, were never sexually or romantically charged. He might want to sleep on the sofa after all...

Closing your eyes, you imagined running your fingers through his silky dark hair, his arms strong around you...the scrape of his five o'clock shadow against your skin as the fingers in his hair tightened, your breath catching as he kissed you, covering your body with his own…

When your eyes opened, he was there.

You'd forgotten how tall he was, you realized. He towered over the throng of people moving down the escalator. Tall and slender with broad shoulders and an unhurried air; his face splitting into a smile when he caught sight of you.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion, as if you were under water. Rising from the bench, your arms opened, mirroring his, in anticipation of his hug.

Sebastien dropped his bag, exclaiming in excitement as he engulfed you, lifting you easily into the air as you squeaked. You weren’t expecting to be scooped up and twirled, weren’t expecting his warm lips to press to yours, his unfamiliar animal heat to send sparks up your veins.

You had hoped for it, but hadn't allowed yourself to expect it.

When your fingers slid into his dark, nails scraping his scalp, he growled against your lips, and you wondered why you had been worried about the nature of his visit at all. Of course this isn't one-sided.

"Look at how gorgeous you are," he sighed once you were back on the ground. Beaming up, you gripped the front of his shirt pulling him down to you. You were buoyed by his words, by the nerves and excitement of seeing him again, by the uniqueness of your relationship, the old-fashioned romance of his missives and how special he made you feel. The kiss you shared this time was slower, with more heat, and your lips tingled when he finally pulled away.

“We should go,” he murmured. “Places like this usually have decency laws, and you’re tempting me to break all of them.”

You trembled the entire way back to your apartment. He had insisted on getting a cab, not wanting to wrestle his roller bag on the train. “Besides, I’m not letting go of your hand,” he announced cheerfully, pulling you into another light kiss before hailing a cab at the taxi queue.

“Are you sure you’re not going to get in trouble having me here?”

The hallway was quiet as the elevator dinged open, and you shushed him, pulling him quickly to your door. The company-provided apartments were small but comfortable, particularly now that your roommate was gone, but he wasn't wrong—it would be frowned upon for you, a young, unmarried woman, to have a male houseguest. You didn't care. Your replacement roommate was not due to arrive until the end of the month, giving you the unexpected boon of privacy during his stay, and you had no intention of letting him stay in a hotel.

“I really was going to get a hotel room, you know,” he laughed, as you tugged him inside.

“Well, now you don’t need to. And we have the place to ourselves the whole time you’re here,” you announced. “Bathroom is here, the kitchen is miniature, but its functional...I got some of that electrolyte water you like. Living room, the advertised sofa, turndown service is an extra fee...the second bedroom, the new girl won’t be here for a few weeks...and here’s my room.”

You swallowed hard, opening the door and ducking your head, lest he see your blush.

“Hmmm...very nice,” he mused, poking his head into your small bedroom. “How much is an upgrade in accommodations?” he asked, with a devilish smile. “This looks a lot more comfortable than the sofa.”

You pretended to ponder, looking him over as you gripped your chin. “Hmmm...I’m sure negotiations could be made.”

You squealed again when he lifted you, bouncing you down on the bed. “I’m a freelancer, miss. Negotiations are what I’m good at.”

Fashion mores in South Korea dictated that women were to remain modestly covered in high necklines...but short, school girl-style skirts were completely acceptable. You might have complained occasionally about the absurdity of the micro-mini lengths, but you were glad for your own short skirt just then.

Sebastien kissed up your legs, finding you ticklish behind the knees, knowledge you knew he’d exploit eventually. Your breath hitched as his lips rose, coming out in shallow pants when he reached your thighs.

“Are the negotiations satisfactory so far?”

Wide hands covered your knees, his long, slender fingers darting out to tease your ticklish skin before pushing up your legs, warming the skin he’d just kissed, flipping up your skirt and opening your legs before his seeking mouth. By the time his lips landed on the edge of your panties, you were panting.

“I-I think you’ve made a compelling opening statement,” you wheezed, earning a deep chuckle that buzzed against your skin.

A trail of kisses, followed by the heat of his tongue, dampening the outside of the thin fabric. When he pushed the material aside, his tongue lightly traced the very edge of your slickened folds. Back and forth, a teasing pressure until your hips bucked reflexively.

You watched as your panties went sailing across the room, after Sebastien tugged them down your hips in one fast motion. His tongue was unnaturally hot, like a plume of lava licking at your most sensitive parts, but the heat was secondary to the pleasure. The tip of his tongue traced lightly, followed by a long, slow lick with a flattened tongue, exploring your silky walls and teasing around that pearl of nerves until you were arching into his mouth.

When he finally began to lick you in earnest, you mewled. Back and forth, back and forth, punctuated by sucking kisses, his lips pulling on your clit until you gasped, his tongue lashing it as soon as it was released. When you came against his tongue, Sebastien hummed, lapping at your release until you gripped his hair, too sensitised for him to continue.

He was incredibly pleased with himself.

His body completely covered yours as he climbed over you as you melted into the mattress, his smile wide and his chin glistening. Your fingers were uncoordinated as you fumbled with his belt buckle, distracted over the press of his erection, until he gripped your hand, squeezing gently before pushing it aside, opening his faded jeans himself.

You gasped as he pressed into you, his overwhelming heat all consuming. The moon would be full by the end of the week, you realized, just before arching beneath him; the thick, burning heat of him pressing into your inner walls and making your breath hitch. It was too much: too much heat, too full, to thick, and in what seemed like no time at all, you were clenching around him, the world a spinning ball of fire, raking your nails down his back, until the molten heat of him filled you and you combusted into blackness.

The sun had not yet risen when you stirred in your bed several days later. You were alone.

He’d left you two days earlier, kissing your nose as he readied himself for the turn, citing a fellow photographer, an american werewolf who had given him leads on several safe spots.

You did not want to sit in your bed alone another moment, you decided, raising with a stretch. There was a food stall that began making their kkwabaegi at dawn. You would get up and procure some, bringing some home for him, if he returned today. The little park was empty, as you’d known it would be. The dough of your fried pastry was hot, sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, and the enticing aroma drew out several of your feline friends as you lowered yourself to a bench.

The sun was just beginning to warm the city in a golden glow, peeking between the buildings. He didn't have a reason to rush off, he’d murmured into your hair as you laid against him one night; he could stay longer than the two weeks he’d originally planned. He’d need to move out of your apartment, of course...but that didn't mean he couldn’t form a new base of operations. The sunlight winked off the trickling water feature as you broke off tiny pieces of dough for the cats.

There was something there in the shadows you realized, though you curiously felt no fear. The sun was shining, the morning was quiet, and you were in love. Maybe he would stay.

A sleek black panther slunk from the shrubbery, smaller cats flanking him with hungry mewls, and you laughed, holding out a piece of the kkwabaegi. Shining, golden eyes, long and muscular. Cats are better than dogs. Maybe he would stay.

You beckoned the felines closer, flipping open the box of treats. After all, you’d bought one for him anyways.

#Exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #werecat #werecat boyfriend #werepanther #monster match #Monsterbait writes #monster x reader #monster x human

277 notes · View notes

percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-12)

Word count: 5.4K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Feels, pining, fluff ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: I am so excited to see what you think of this chapter! I haven’t made a secret of the fact that this is one of my absolute favorite chapters. I had a lot of fun writing it <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. You are a goddess. I love you <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Sam regretted it the moment he stepped into the bar. The lights were dim, the music was hip and it was too full of people. What was more, a lot of those faces seemed familiar. Maybe he had seen them around the campus?

Sam found a corner booth, away from the bar counter and the pool table. It was isolated and about as quiet as any table was going to get. He drew out his phone and texted Jody.

“I’m here. Where are you?”

Sighing, he locked the screen on his phone. Sam was beyond exhausted. He had stayed up the night, driven for close to twelve hours in total to and fro from LA, and went cut to cut with one of the fiercest attorneys he had ever met. At least, James was out for good. The look on his face at the sight of Sam had been worth everything. Sam had been so scared that he wouldn’t be able to get the kid out. Now that he had, all he wanted to do was fall in bed and not wake up till Sunday.

Even as that thought took shape, he knew he was lying to himself. More than anything, he wanted to find Y/N and thank her for her help last night, let her know how the hearing went. If someone at Acton Gris had helped him, he would have taken them along for the hearing because the effort deserved it. A part of him had wanted to ask Y/N. She would be allowed, since she was a law student accompanying the attorney, but Sam didn’t think he could handle being in her presence for so long. Besides, she’d had classes in the morning. Either way, she deserved to know the verdict. He had contemplated emailing her, then thought better of it. Maybe he would drop by at the library to see if it was her shift. It was only 12. The library would be open for at least two more hours.

He banished the thought as quickly as it appeared, though, physically shaking his head. He needed to factor in the consideration that she probably didn’t want to keep running into him all the time.

His phone pinged. It was Jody letting him know that Alex was yet to get home from some party of her own and that she would be late, if she came at all.

Fantastic. Simply fantastic.

He should have just gone to bed. Being in bars at midnight? He was too old for this. It had been Jody’s idea to begin with! She was the one who had made plans for the weekend and was standing him up now.

“Professor Winchester?”

Sam groaned internally before seeing who had called him. It was a glimmeringly clad freshman from his class.

Could the evening get any worse? He had to run into his students.

“Ohmygosh! I can’t believe you’re here,” gushed the girl. Sam vaguely remembered that her name was Staten.

The other girl whose name Sam didn’t know at all nodded vigorously. “You’re so cool!”

Both of them were bright eyed and obviously tipsy. That was a combination for trouble if Sam had ever seen one.

He got up. “Nice to see you ladies,” he said sliding out of the booth. “I’m going to step out for just a second. Y’all have fun.”

“Mr. Winchester,” one of them called, but Sam was out the back door. Few years of teaching had taught him enough in that department. During his early days, years ago, when he first started as a visiting faculty, he would insist that the class call him by his first name. He had been ignorant about how it came across and only after a couple of students had made a pass at him had he grown wary and stuck to being addressed by his last name. It never got less weird, having people address him as ‘Mr. Winchester,’ but he was used to it now.

Stepping outside, Sam breathed in the cold air, wondering again what the hell he was doing here.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Jody.

She picked up on the second ring. “I’m so sorry, Sam!” She apologised profusely. “Alex’s tyre gave out and she’s stranded a couple miles out.”

“Shit. Do you want me to pick her up?”

“No, it’s alright,” she reassured. “She’ll feel awful about you driving out to get her. I’m heading out now. Please just wait a little longer. I feel horrible about keeping you waiting, especially since it was my idea.”

He looked at the watch. It was quarter past twelve. “Jody…” he sighed.

“Okay, wait for just fifteen more minutes,” she bargained. “If I’m not there by then, you can go home and I’ll owe you drinks for the rest of the year.”

“Rest of your life, and we have a deal,” Sam smiled despite himself. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” She said, clearly amused. “That’s how you become a good lawyer. Okay, Fine.”

Sam laughed.

“You know I love you, Winchester.”

“I know you do!”

Sam put the phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t have known what to do with his life if Jody hadn’t stepped in and taught him how to look after another person who was solely dependent on him. She was the best friend and mentor he could have asked for.

He slid back inside the bar, determined to avoid any and each student he saw. Especially the drunk ones. Luck was on his side. The whole freshman gang had moved to the pool table, removed from the main area. This late he would have expected the crowd to thin out, but hoards of people were on the dance floor moving their bodies to the rhythm of the song. Taking advantage of the crowd, Sam went over to the bar counter.

“Jack. Neat!” He asked the woman behind the counter. She had long dark hair and a mischievous smile.

“Coming right up, handsome!” She winked.

Sam smiled awkwardly as she slid the glass.

“Hey, Mister! Repeat this one!”

Sam’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. It was loud and bossy and Y/N’s.

“Y/N?” The bartender in front of him squinted at the girl two benches from him, clearly surprised.

Sam would have moved sooner, but he was awestruck at the sight of her. Y/N was wearing a silky, satiny top that was cut low and clung to her body like a second skin over tight jeans and heeled boots. Her hair cascaded over her bare shoulders like a nymph’s. Sam’s throat went dry.

The bartender rushed over to her. “Christ, Y/N!” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

Y/N looked at her with wide, surprised eyes. “Pam! OH MY GOD, PAM! It’s you!

“Yes, I work here,” the bartender, whose name was apparently Pam, said. “Rob, how much has she had to drink?”

The guy shrugged. “One vodka, three tequillas. I don’t know about before.”

“Y/N?” Pam patted Y/N’s face. “Are you by yourself?”

“Kinda!” Y/N giggled, tossing her hair back in a smooth flip. Sam’s heartbeat spiked at the sight. He absolutely couldn’t wrench his eyes away.

Y/N bent over the counter, then jerked her thumb at the freshman gang and whispered conspiratorially. “I’m with those guys over there, but I don’t think they care if I wander off. Can I tell you a secret? Most of them are douchebags anyway.”

“Rob!” Pam barked. “Do we have a standby? Rinny? Or just anyone else?”

“It’s just us tonight.”

“Well, fuck!” Pam swore.

“Y/N, honey,” she tried to get Y/N to listen to her, but Y/N was already trying to sit up on the bar, blowing kisses at Pam. “You’re the best, Pam. Just the absolute best and I love how much you love my cookies.”

“Everyone loves your cookies, honey, but you need to get down.”

“Okay… Okay,” Y/N winked. She slipped as she tried to get down from the counter. Reflexively Sam moved, catching her before she crashed to the ground.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he said in a low voice only to her and she looked up at him with wide confused eyes.

“Hey, get your hands off of her, Mister.” Pam hissed, looking scarily angry. “I said, let go of her. Right now.”

Sam did so immediately, but Y/N didn’t let go of his shirt. “I know her,” he tried to explain to Pam, who looked like she was on the verge of calling the bouncers.

“Yeah, that’s right, you know her,” Pam grimaced. “Very believable.”

“I swear, I know her,” Sam said, wildly trying to explain. “Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N. She’s a law student at the university. First year, hails from Kansas and feels insanely cold.” Sam started spewing random facts he could think of. “Her favourite book is To kill a mockingbird. She bakes amazing muffins-”

She likes her coffee with very little milk, is scared of ducks and has a birthmark in the middle of her lower back. She likes listening to classical music and waking up early…

Meanwhile, Y/N was still looking at him in wonderment, shushing herself.

“How do you know all that about her?” Pam looked at him with suspicion and mingled curiosity.

“I’m her-” it hurt to say- “ her friend.”

She still didn’t look completely convinced.

“Y/N?” Pam asked the girl in Sam’s arms. “You know this man?”

Don’t be that far gone, Sam prayed internally. Please don’t be that far gone.

“Pfftt,” Y/N scoffed, with such force that she lost her footing again. “It’s Sam! I’d sooner forget myself than not know him! What sort of dumb question is this?”

Sam.

She had said his name. It had caressed her lips. Was it even possible to be jealous of your own name?

Pam raised her eyebrows.

“Look,” she said, “I can’t leave my shift to drop her home and no one I can call will be up this late. Y/N clearly knows you. Do you think you can drop her home?”

“I-I don’t know where she stays!”

Pam quickly wrote down an address. “It’s just a couple blocks away. I’m going to call her cell in a while, so you better not try anything funny.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too terrified at the prospect of being left alone with Y/N. He glanced around to see a couple of looks coming their way.

“Yeah, I’ll take her,” he said finally. “The hangover will hit her hard in a while, it’s better that she’s home then. Trust me, I know.”

Pam took one look from his face to Y/N wrapped around his torso. “Thanks, man.”

He nodded and then slowly guided Y/N out. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

“You know where I live?” She asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I do now.” Fortunately or unfortunately it was right next to Sam’s street.

He adjusted her so that she was tucked under his side. Her fingers were still boldly clutching at his undershirt, sending shocks of sensation throughout his body.

“This way, c’mon,” He guided her forward.

“Stop pushing me. I. Can’t. Walk. Any. Faster!” She whined. “These shoes suck.”

“Okay, let’s just sit for a while.” He slowly steered her to a bench on the street. It wasn’t right outside the bar, hence, out of clear view. Sam lowered her onto the bench and she promptly pulled her feet up, trying to slide the zipper on her shoes. They honestly looked like a death trap of sorts. The zipper stuck out adamantly as she yanked at it with all her might.

Hands trembling, he caught hold of hers. “Wait. Let me.”

Slowly, with a steadier hand, Sam dragged down the zippers on both her shoes- carefully, to not touch her skin- freeing her feet. She drew into herself, massaging the reddened skin on the arch and the back of her heel.

“Stupid Meg,” she muttered. “Shouldn’t have let her put me in these.”

She massaged her toes. “It hurts.”

“Will you let me take a look at it?” He asked hesitantly. Y/N twisted her body and put both her feet straight into his lap.

“Here! Look all you want.”

Her hair was fluttering lightly in the wind and despite the chill, she wasn’t reaching for the leather jacket. Looking at her was like looking at the sun. He wanted to, but couldn’t, because it hurt at the same time. The satin of her blouse was kissing her soft skin in all the right places.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Y/N teased collusively. She scooted closer, almost sitting completely in his lap now. “Can I tell you a secret? I think about it, too.”

Sam pushed her away lightly and God it hurt to do it, but she wasn’t in her senses right now. Sober, she wouldn’t have wanted any of this.

“We should get you home!” He said in a tight voice.

“No!” She was adamant. “Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”

Oh the irony. “You were the one who left me, Y/N.”

Y/N not having heard a word of it was scooting closer to him again. She laid her head on his shoulder, and snaked her arms around his waist. Sam stilled, not even daring to breathe.

“Let’s just stay here forever. You and me.” She laughed all of a sudden. “This is literally the best dream I’ve ever had. I can actually feel you.” She hugged him tighter to prove her point. “See?”

“Is this what your dreams are made up of?”

“The good ones, yeah,” she sighed tiredly. “But mostly they’re just bad and I’m cold and there’s so much water, Sam. There was so much water.”

Suddenly she started shivering and Sam pulled the jacket over her shoulders.

She looked up with tears in her eyes. “Sam, the water! And there’s so much glass. It hurts.”

A deep pain and grief that he hadn’t felt in years threatened to swallow Sam whole. “Oh, baby,” he said, at last throwing his arms around her. “It’s not real. It happened a long time ago.”

“I can’t breathe. There’s too much water.” Her words were slow and slurred. Despite that, the picture she painted was horrifying.

The memories all flashed before his eyes like it had happened yesterday. But he refused to go under. Not now.

Sam allowed himself to comfort her and be comforted by her. In this one thing, they were together. He held her as close as he had dreamed for years, yet not truly believing that this was actually happening. She smelled just the same, and the way her body curved into his hadn’t changed at all.

Sam held her like that for an immeasurable time. It felt both like an eternity and mere seconds all at once. A crazed traveller wouldn’t be more desperate for an Oasis than Sam felt for her touch. And knowing that this would end soon, that these were stolen moments made it heaven and hell at the same time.

“Y/N,” he tried again. “We need to get you home.” I need to get you home.

She didn’t reply.

“Are you asleep?”

“Yes!” She muttered and in spite everything Sam had to stifle a laugh.

She had no footwear on, after getting herself out of those insane shoes. Sam removed his flip flops and slid them under her feet. They were way too big, but it was better than nothing.

“Up you come.” He hoisted her slowly to her feet.

“Whoa!” She said, “everything is spinning so fast.”

“Just hold on to me. The spinning will go away.” He guided her slowly. “This way now.”

Her grasp on his shoulder slipped, pulling his shirt down with him.

“Oooohhh fancy,” she snickered, trying to touch the thin chain around his neck.

Sam fixed his shirt with the other hand so it wasn’t visible. She didn’t need to know.

It must look absurd, the two of them walking down the street. Sam, barefoot, carrying a pair of her heels in one hand and holding her by the waist with the other. Meanwhile, Y/N was humming lightly to herself, giggling at silly things, slipping and sliding in his flip flops.

At long last, they reached the address that Pam had given. Sam knew the building, he walked past it everyday to get home. The building had a solid, high compound wall, covered in vines. Keeping a tight hold on Y/N, he pushed the wrought iron gate. It creaked as it opened, leaving Sam staring at a beautiful front yard. There was curving shrubbery around the small circular garden and a mermaid shaped fountain flowing water in a circular basin with seating around it.

“Hahahaaa Judgy Judy isn’t too pleased with us,” Y/N told him sagely. “She hates people who drink even more than people who turn up late.”

“Why did you drink anyway?” He asked. “You don’t even like doing it.”

Y/N broke off, stumbling into the path. She glared at him. “Oh, so it’s okay for you to go out on dates with other people but it’s not okay for me to drink?”

That’s what she thought? That he had been in the bar for a date? Was that why she had drank?

Sam’s mind was reeling. If what she was saying was true, it meant that it mattered to her what Sam did or didn’t do with his life. Unless she still cared.

“You really think I would do that?” Abruptly, he was angry. If she cared enough to be mad with him, why had she left him to begin with?

Y/N had already moved on from the conversation. She was staring up at the mermaid’s face.

“Sam? You remember that time we went to the fair and rode the ferris wheel?”

He did remember. “You fainted immediately after.”

“Yeah, this feels exactly like that…” Y/N staggered on the spot and Sam rushed to catch her. The minute his hands found her arm, she threw up spectacularly on the front of his shirt, retching till there wasn’t anything left. Then, she promptly passed out in his arms.

He stood there for a second, looking about him, but no help was going to arrive at 2 in the night.

This was bad, very very bad. He had hoped to drop her home and then go back to his own place to wallow about how unfair the world was. What was he supposed to do now?

He had no clue if she stayed by herself. He couldn’t just leave her by herself when she was sick.

Slowly, he led her to the seating around the fountain. She laid down on it, groaning lightly.

Sam removed his shirt, bundled it up and using some of the water from the fountain, wiped the puke from his jeans and Y/N’s feet along with his flip flops. Then he bent down and swooped her in his arms, carrying her inside the building. Getting into the lift and to her apartment was easy enough. Wrestling the key out of the purse and then unlocking the door all the while supporting her wasn’t so much.

It was pretty clear to Sam that there was no one else in the apartment when he entered. All that noise would have brought someone out by now. He barely looked at the living room, before laying Y/N down on the sofa there. There was a kitchenette to the right side. Sam poured a glass of water, added a spoon of sugar and a pinch of salt after looking through the jars. He walked back to where Y/N was curled up on the sofa and coaxed her to drink it.

She made a face, refusing to take a sip.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“No.”

She was so stubborn sometimes. “Please? For me?”

“For you?” Her expression was guileless, it was almost his undoing, but Sam pushed on. “Yes, for me.”

She took the glass from him and downed it in one go, distaste clear on her expression.

The phone started ringing right when she put the glass down. Sam had to fish it from her purse. The caller ID read ‘Pamela Barnes.’

“Here,” Sam handed the phone to Y/N. “It’s for you.”

“Hello!” She sang. “Yeah, yeah… I’m home…”

Sam didn’t hang around for the rest of the conversation. He returned the glass to the kitchen and made more of the Sugar-salt solution in a bottle.

Y/N was idly playing with a lock of her hair.

“Can we go to bed now? Please?” She mumbled drowsily.

“You,” Sam stressed “are going to bed. Which one is your room?”

Sleepily, she pointed towards the door next to the kitchenette. He lifted her once more in his arm, thinking how bizarre all of this was as he walked towards the room. It felt nothing short of euphoric to hold her like this, like he was on some sort of wild once in a lifetime adventure, even if touching her like this used to be normal for him once upon a time. He gently laid her down on the bed. She stretched out on the sheets immediately, a smile on her lips.

He could have stared and stared. Sam decided to take one long look at her, memorising the exact color of her hair, the fullness of her lips and the rhythm of her breaths. Just as he turned to leave, Y/N’s hand shot out to grab the hem of his T-shirt.

“Why? Why did it happen to us?” She said, her face drawn in lines of anguish. “We were good people. You still are. Then, why?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Because life isn’t fair. You of all people should know that by this point. And I’ve hardly been a good person since.”

“Shhhhh….” She put a finger to her lip. “You’re the best, Sam. You always have been.”

“Then why did you leave me? Why couldn’t you trust me enough to stay? Have enough faith in me to know that I could make it okay for us? I loved you more than anything, Y/N. And you left me anyway.” He knew full well that she wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning, she was barely even listening now. So how did it matter what he said?

“Don’t go,” she moaned.

“Y/N… you know I can’t stay.”

“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”

In an odd twisted way, it was the truth. Nothing was right when she wasn’t with him.

“Please, Sam,” she sighed. “Don’t leave me. Promise me.”

He gave in. How could he not? “I promise,” he said finally. “I’ll stay tonight.”

She smiled contentedly and her breathing evened out soon after.

Slowly, Sam disentangled his t-shirt from his grip.

In the bathroom, he washed his bundled up shirt, cleaning it completely, then used it to wash off whatever was left on his jeans and t-shirt. Thankfully, Y/N’s clothes hadn’t been spoilt and didn’t need any cleaning. The apartment had a beautiful balcony that overlooked the garden below. He hung his shirt on the railing to dry it in the breeze.

Sam checked on Y/N once more under the guise of placing the water bottle next to her bed. She was splayed wildly now. The straps of her blouse had slid further down her arm, revealing the tops of her breasts. He looked away. As lightly as he could, Sam freed the covers from beneath her and drew them over her, tucking her comfortably underneath them. Then he made his way to the living room sofa, closing Y/N’s bedroom door after her.

The sofa was much too small to accommodate him, but Sam managed to lie on his back, legs folded and body wedged between the two armrests. After a while of twisting and turning, he rested his head on one armrest and threw his legs over the other, staring at the apartment walls and decorations. Most of it was too delicate, like the filigree on the curtains and the carved screens dividing part of the kitchenette from the rest of the living room. That certainly wasn’t Y/N’s taste. Either it came with the apartment or her room mate had put it there. There were some things, however, that were distinctly Y/N- the flowers and plants in the balcony, the solid wood coffee stand and the classy oven. The little China decorating the kitchen bar must’ve been her grandmothers. Nothing… absolutely nothing in the house proved that he had ever played a part in her life. Sam decidedly curbed the disappointment and bitterness he felt.

So, she had moved on from him. Hadn’t the past month taught him as much?

A month ago he wouldn’t have believed that he’d end up a room away from a very drunk Y/N. So close, yet so far. He closed his eyes, recalling how it felt to have her arms around his waist, feel the press of her body against his as he lifted her in his arms. He could live out the rest of his life holding onto those memories, even if it never happened again, even if she never remembered it…

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open. A girl was standing over him with a ferocious expression.

He sat up groggily, disoriented about his surroundings. Who was this girl?

“I asked who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

Sam groaned, blinking his eyes in the still dark room. “I’m Sam. I helped Y/N home last night.”

“Where’s she? Is she okay?”

The shift in her tone was sudden, from angry to concerned.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Sam yawned. “She just had too much to drink.”

“And how do you know her?”

“I’m her- “ It physically ached to not say it. “I’m her… friend.”

The girl, who Sam assumed was her roommate, Meg, raised an eyebrow. “Friend, huh? How come she’s never talked about you before?”

Because she doesn’t care anymore.

Suddenly Sam was very tired. “Look, I’ve known her since a long time. We lost touch a while ago. I met her at college.”

Meg didn’t seem very convinced. She harrumphed and crossed her arms.

“I’m going to head out, now that you’re back,” he said, standing up and straightening his back. It was completely screwed. He walked over to the balcony and retrieved his now dried shirt. Meg eyed it dubiously.

“You didn’t try anything with her, did you?”

Again, the irony of someone else being concerned that he of all people would try to harm Y/N twisted his mouth into a bitter smirk.

“Look, mister…” Meg started and Sam put his hands up. He was too exhausted to hold this argument.

“I just put her to bed. That’s all,” he said. “Heads up, she has terrible hangovers. You might want to keep the bathroom accessible and the Advil ready.”

With that he stalked out of the room.

It wasn’t a long walk to his home from there, barely even five minutes, but Sam’s head was buzzing with thoughts. Last night everything had been so hurried and he was the only one who could have helped her out. But what now?

He and Y/N had barely started talking. He still didn’t know what was going on in her head. Last night had changed all of that, at least for him. If it had been hard to not think about her before, it was damn well impossible now. She was consuming his every thought, shadowing every emotion. What if she remembered everything she had said last night? What if she’d actually meant those things?

“Don’t go”

“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”

“Please, Sam, Don’t leave me. Promise me.”

Each time his name had fallen off her lips, it was like she was resurrecting his long dead heartbeat. He wanted to dare, he wanted to hope and believe that there was some chance.

But what if she didn’t remember anything at all? Sam knew that he would die inside if that happened. It was one thing to not feel hope, and another altogether to kill it with one's own hands.

His mind was a cacophony of noises and emotions all warring against each other as he reached his house. On the door steps, sat a solitary figure, waiting for him.

“Jody?”

The sky was just starting to lighten. What was she doing here?

He frowned at her, wondering what on earth could have brought her here this early in the morning. She stared back evenly; there was none of the usual warmth in her eyes, instead they were full of distrust and disappointment.

“Jody, is everything okay?”

“You tell me, Winchester,” she said, coming to stand right next to him, her stature severe.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really?” She spat. “Don’t you think you’ve been acting differently? At first I thought, being by yourself was getting to you.”

“Jody, I seriously don’t understand.”

“Fine I’ll cut to the chase. Where were you last night?”

It was the last thing Sam had expected. He couldn't tell her the truth. Where would he even start with the truth? “I was-”

She raised her hand and Sam flinched at the hostile expression on her face. “Save it, Sam. I know exactly what you were doing last night. I saw you sitting on the bench outside the bar with that girl.”

Sam jerked upright.

“I’ve known you for years, Sam. Years. I taught you everything I knew. I’ve never been prouder of any student I’ve had and this is what you do with all that trust? This is how you abuse your power?”

Her words rang louder than they should have in Sam’s ears. “Jody-”

“Don’t even try to make excuses. At first, when I saw her in your office, I didn’t think anything of it. Sure, she looked close to tears, but a lot of freshmen are always anxious. But then I saw you in the library with her. The way you looked at Y/N? That’s not how a teacher looks at their student!” Jody looked disgusted. “And tonight? Y/N was clearly drunk, for Christ’s sake! How can you possibly justify the way you were holding her?”

“Because she’s my WIFE!” He shouted, breathing hard, feeling the heat coming off of his face. “I married her and I love her!”

It was beyond cathartic to finally say those words out loud. Up until this point Sam hadn’t realised that since he had seen Y/N in his class, those very words had been strangling him, poisoning him. Now that he had finally said them, the strength in his legs gave away. He sat down on the steps with a thud.

Jody’s face had gone very white. “Sam…”

“Tonight was nothing more than me helping a girl who needed it. Nothing more than that,” he said through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly at the wetness on his lashes. “You know I respect you, Jody, but even you don’t get to tell me if I can hold my own wife.”

She sat down next to him, now at a complete loss of words. “Is this the same girl…?”

Sam nodded, unable to form words.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” she said, drawing him close. “I didn’t know. You should have said something.”

“Said what?” He said through a thick throat, angry with himself for showing weakness now when he had held it together for so long. “That my wife who walked out on me years ago because she didn't trust me to save our marriage is suddenly back? As my student after six years? Is that what I should have declared when I didn’t even know if she wanted to see my face? Is that what I should’ve said?”

“Oh, you sweet boy. I’m so sorry,” Jody ran her hands over his shoulders. “Sorry that you’ve been suffering and sorry that I doubted you at all. You don’t need to say anything now. C’mere.”

Firmly she drew him towards her and threw her arms around his neck. Sam hugged back, closing his eyes tightly so that the tears rolled over into the cotton of her shirt.

“Shhhh…” she said. “It’s going to be alright.”

Sam didn’t know if there was any truth in her words, but he allowed himself to be comforted, allowed himself to draw some warmth from his oldest friend here. Allowed himself to start healing.

**************************

A/N 2: *Wiggles eyebrows* Who all saw it coming? ;)

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

GIF Credit (It wouldn’t let me put it before the cut :/)

ALLU taglist

@feelmyroarrrr @gabavaldman @im-a-light-child @cosicas-cuquis @bllyjianne @hoboal87 @i-is-for-inspiring @daughterleftbehind @wackiekebab @mylovelydame21 @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @superbadassnatural @bellastellaluna @babypink224221 @badlittlehabit99 @anathewierdo @sams-bubblegum-bitch @damn-it-now-im-obsessed @fandomoverdose666 @superstarmarvel @atc74 @aiofheavenandhell @rebel-author-chick @death-unbecomes-you @cookiechipdough @kbl1313 @linki-locks11 @miss-nerd95 @sunflowers-n-rocknroll @stoneyggirl @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader fluff #lawyer!Sam x reader #professor!Sam x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #allu 12 #allu part 12 #anawritesspn #Ana writes ALLU #anawrites #q

124 notes · View notes

satsuki2406 · 3 years

Text

OPEN SKY Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

“…And never, ever forget that, your dreams are the wings that’ll help you fly.”

(L/N)(Y/N) has always been forced to live according to others’ expectations. As a member of the powerful and influential (L/N) Family, she has had to live with the heavy weight of seeing others write her destiny with no choice but just obey. But when (Y/N) finally decides to risk it all to take the only opportunity to regain the control of her own life, everything ends up going horribly wrong. Surrendered and disappointed, she receives one last chance to prove to herself and to U.A, along with some unexpected help that this was not a crazy and meaningless waste of time.

Maybe this plan could work after all…

PAIRING: (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

GENRE/WARNINGS: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Mentions of sex (nothing explicit tho), dark themes, My poor attempt of comedy, family dysfunctionality, toxic relationships, Strong language (Courtesy of King Lord Explosion Murder 💥), Manga Spoilers.

STATUS: On going

Masterlist \(￣︶￣*\))

6- Have We Got a Deal?

✒A/N:

I rewrote this chapter like three times, and hopefully, now it turned out better. I read my progress again a couple of weeks ago and it was simply, not right. I hated it so much that I decided to delete it and work again on it. The essence is the same of what I planned for this chapter and although it is a bit longer now, I took the chance to get into more detail about certain things and express better about others. The conversation between Reader-chan and Kaguya may have become a bit deeper than it used to be, but I really liked the outcome and gave me more ideas for the future plot. That's all for now.

Hope you enjoy it! q(≧▽≦q)

So, my dear sweet cousin, do you accept or not?

“W-Wait a minute! You can’t be serious, do you- do you understand the implications of what you’re saying?!” You said incredulously.

“Of course I do, why do you think we are here?” Kaguya said while she took another canape and bit it. She chewed slowly while you watched her attentively, the dread in your stomach growing by increments, exasperated for her to continue. She finally swallowed and took a sip of wine.

“So? Would you care to explain what on earth is actually happening, because you don’t expect me to believe that the cause of such an unprecedented change is because of some internet gossip” You said in a demanding tone.

“Of course it’s not, but if you are patient enough I’ll explain it to you with pleasure, so you better watch your tone with me, brat.” She hissed.

You puffed out your cheeks but nodded in cue for her to continue.

“Approximately three days ago grandmother convened a last-minute meeting in her abode to discuss this problem. At first, I thought she was overreacting about this whole ordeal, after all big corporates and companies are attacked and critized all the time, but after a long, long discussion, we all agreed that the situation should not be taken lightly and it needed to be addressed as soon as possible.”

“That bad it is?” You asked slightly concerned.

“Unfortunately,” Kaguya answered. “Walls covered in graffiti in Kyoto, people protesting and messing with the employees at the ER main entrance in Hosu, broken windows in Deika and thousands and thousands of emails and nasty messages in all our social media accounts. We had to hire the services of a whole publicity agency so they could deal with the problem, hardly. It has been difficult to contain, but it paid off because it hasn’t been leaked into any important newscast. Internet, the origin of the problem, has been another story, unfortunately, in these cases, it can be very difficult and unforgiving to work with; once something enters, is nearly impossible to pull it out and if you succeed there’s always a risk it would pop up anywhere when you least expect it.” Kaguya said while she rubbed her temples.

“Internet is a huge source of news and information for thousands of people nowadays, even millions, fake or not, and also the main responsible that this situation slipped out of control faster.”

You contemplated your next words as you soaked in all the information you just were provided with, so you could express your ideas and queries as clear as possible. “Okay…but why is everybody so angry about our current family situation? I get it’s messed up, but why go as far as vandalize privite property and nag about it on social media?” You asked slightly hesitant.

“As an institution, we had always presented and preserved ourselves as a family, working to, and for the Japanese families generation after generation, no matter where we went, we always went together, always radiating the image of a happy, healthy, and unified family. Throughout the time several members of our family had made multiple presentations in public inspiring kindness and charisma, earning the trust and love of the people, which is impressive considering the heavily hero centered world we live in. Now that there are strong rumors putting all of these apparent facts into question, some people feel mocked, disappointed, and cheated… besides other things.” Kaguya mumbled.

“Sorry I could not listen the last part Kaguya.” You said puzzled.

“Don’t worry, I was just talking to myself, the important thing is that the problem is been solved, millions will be invested but is necessary. We have already started a huge ad campaign, a lot of important heroes will be involved so we can reassure and remind people why we have been their number one choice during over a century, that we still the same and will always remain the same, that we do not change, we improve.”

“I see, but you haven’t explained what does this have to do with me going to U.A-”

“As I told you she decided to make exceptions, due to the unusual situation we are going through right now we need unusual solutions as well and as part of our ad campaign and for the sake of our image she decided that two fortunate souls would have the chance to pursue a carrier of their choice, you know to placate the masses.”

“ Of course, a different series of factors would be taken into account when examining the option chosen and its potential benefits for the interests of the company, if these results are not satisfactory, the other alternatives will be analyzed to find a more suitable one and the aforementioned process will be repeated. Once we find satisfactory results, grandmother will proceed to revise everything once more and give her approval or deny it.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that we are doing the same thing but with more options? And they are going to evaluate if we can actually perform well in these new career options?” You asked unimpressed at your grandmas’ unwillingness to let the leash lose a bit even in a situation like this.

“Exactly right, it’s a change but there are still rules nonetheless.” Kaguya affirmed as she refilled her cup again. “Don’t get me wrong, she is really mad, just the thought of sacrifice two pawns in one single move is driving her crazy”

“Which selection system will be used in this case?” You asked.

“Nominations. As you already know there are two potential candidates, besides you of course.”

“Two? But there’s other three-”

“Aya has already been selected by grandmother herself, he’ll be enrolled into U.A next year via recommendation, everything is ready and processed the only thing left is to break the news on him.”

You grimaced, anxious, and preoccupied to see your already thin chances narrow even more. Your cousin, Aya was a famous vlogger and influencer with a strongly settled fanbase in and out of Japan. His videos generally focus on his daily life, trips to cool and exotic destinations, and the typical ‘eat this’, ‘do that’ challenges that always went around the internet.

He also participated in different campaigns to raise funds for different charitable causes and was a fervent advocator of animal rights and the environment, even donating millions from his own pocket. He always did his best to involve the name of the (L/N) Group, allowing them to organize, participate and sponsor some of these events helping bust their image as a caritative, conscious, and woke organization.

The bastard overflew with kindness and charisma and knew how to surround himself with the right people to manage his channel properly, although no relatable for the regular mid-class YouTube user, you had to admit that his videos were fun, entertaining, interesting, and sometimes, informative, that was the reason they were always flooded with millions of views, comments, likes and overall the crushing success he was experiencing every time he uploaded a new one.

He’s rich, famous, handsome, and had an appealing personality, add hero to that list and you’ll get the recipe to success. It wouldn't surprise you at all if he reached the top 10 of the HBC in a year just out of sheer popularity. His quirk is also fitted for a hero, he’ll need some serious training, but nothing that money and elite PT could not manage.

“How am I supposed to compete with that?” You whispered with your head down watching how your knuckles turned whiter as your hands crinkled your uniform skirt.

“Don’t trouble yourself with what you’re not supposed to, Aya is not competition, not anymore, instead try to focus on the actual competition, and may I add that you got a really big chance with my brother out of the picture. Kaguya smirked at you confidently.

“You think so?” You asked doubtfully.

“Believe me (Y/N), my sister is really smart and competent, but has the charm and social skills of a cardboard box, and Himeko, well… we could resume all her virtues, abilities and skills to shopping, makeup, gossip, selfies, social media, being pretty and an absolute headache. Grandmother got big plans for her after she graduates though, so I’ll take her out of the picture as well.”

“Big plans?” You said arching your eyebrow.

“Let’s say that, right now, we have a great, juicy, and very convenient deal that is in negociation right now and she is a vital piece to close it successfully. Don’t worry, your curiosity will be satiated soon enough.”

“What worries me is that I think I got a grasp of what you’re talking about.”

“Aw. Come on, businesses are businesses (Y/N), C’est la vie.” She said as she shrugged uninterested.

“Yeah, because is not you.” You grumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, why don’t you continue.”

“You are right, where we were? Oh, right.”

‘Was she really just dismissing the topic like that?!’

“Tell me (Y/N), do you think that I would have brought you here and propose this plan to you if I didn’t have an ace up my sleeve? Please. There are some important and positive points that can grant us success if we exploit them properly, but we must play our cards wisely, unfortunately, that’ll have to wait until we are completely alone.” Confused your arched your eyebrow, until your ears were met with the sound of the wheels of a certain golden cart rapidly approaching.

“Hello again ladies, let me take this off,” Hiro said while he took the almost empty canape plate along the rest of the dishes. “Is there anything else you would like? Would you like another beverage (L/N)-sama?” Hiro said looking at your semi voided glass.

“Y-Yes please”

“Alright!” With the swift and skill of years of experience, Hiro served your plates, removed the shiny silver food covers, refilled both water cups and Kaguya’s wine cup as well in less than a minute. “Please enjoy, if there’s anything else you would like I’ll be happy to assist you! I’ll be back in a minute with your drink miss.”

You spent the next couple of minutes in total silence waiting for your drink in order to continue your conversation privately and interruption-free. Just as said, Hiro returned instants later with the promised drink and finally left you two to converse calmly.

“Well, now that the coast is clear, let me fill you up with what you have to know and do in order to obtain a favorable outcome for both of us.” Kaguya began as she sliced a bite of quail breast.

“So, this is my plan…”

Now with your dinner night already finished, you were now heading to your house. This ride was as quiet as the one to the restaurant, but without the suffocating weight of uncertainty. Your head was filled now with the echoes of your conversation with Kaguya, debating, analyzing, considering, comprehending every single word of it.

“You seem troubled, you are doubtful, aren’t you?” Said Kaguya interrupting your thoughts.

“I’m more scared than anything if this doesn’t work-”

“It will, you already know what to do, just focus on that. I’ll keep in contact with you anyway, in case of emergencies or any last-minute matter.” She then proceeded to rummage in her purse and took out a brand-new phone, it was one of those not so high-quality flip phones that you can get for a really low price, probably a disposable one.

“I already put my phone number in it, so we can communicate without issue. This phone is a really basic one, so it has no internet access but you have unlimited calls and texts. Just make sure to keep it hidden from your mother or that blabbermouth maid of yours.”

“Yes, I’ll find a place.”

“Perfect, remember, the announce dinner will be this Saturday, surely your mom would tell you, everybody will be there, they must at least.”

Another twenty minutes passed before you were at the main door of your lavish home. Silently, you excited the car after Soichiro opened the door for you and you headed to the front door.

“We’ll keep in contact, until then, (Y/N).” Kaguya said softly, once she finished Soichiro shut the door, bowed his head, and wished you a good evening. He straightened up his posture and proceeded to hop in the car again. Quietly you observed the car get farther and farther until it disappeared. You stayed there in silence, while the nightly wind swayed your hair delicately. The sound of the door opening distracted you, then, you turned around to be met with the gentle smile of Nobu-san.

“Okaerinasai, (Y/N)-sama, how was your dinner with Kaguya-sama?”

“Pretty…unexpected.” You looked everywhere, making sure that nobody else was listening to your conversation. “I’ll fill you out on the details later” You whispered and Nobu-san nodded knowingly. “I see, your bath is ready (Y/N)-sama. Please take your time and relax, it’s been a long night after all,” He got slightly closer to you and cupped his hand around his mouth, and whispered. “I’m pretty sure you’ll make good use of this time to ponder any thought that is troubling your mind.” He distanced from you, crossed his arms behind his back, and gave you a gentle closed-eye smile. “Would you like a cup of tea after your bath?”

You smiled at him fondly.

“(F/T/F), please.”

You’ve been lying if you said that you could actually sleep the night before. Your head could not stop to reproduce in a loop your conversation with Kaguya the night before, like a broken record you couldn’t escape from. Before you noticed, the outrageous melody of your alarm resounded in the spaciousness of your room. You groaned in protest, unwillingly getting up to start your day.

Dressed and ready, you took your bag and went downstairs to have breakfast. Before you could finish hopping down the stairs you caught a glimpse of your mother sitting at the head chair, like always with your father by her side, she was holding her morning coffee while she read some emails on her laptop.

As always she looked stunning in her soft pink and golden outfit, she crossed her legs, put down her cup and started typing in her laptop.

You straighten your posture the best you could and approached the table with delicate steps. “Good morning mother, good morning dad”

“Good morning dear, how did you sleep?” Said your mother without taking her eyes off the screen in a somewhat flat tone as her fingers tapped nimbly over the keyboard. “Pretty well, and yourself?” You said while you took a seat at the innecesarily expansive dinning table.

“Not so well sadly, there’s been some… issues I had to take care of.” She hissed a bit irritated as she rubbed her temples.

“I-I see, hopefully, you’ll have a better day today, mother.”

“I doubt it, unluckily, but thank you for your words, darling. Now hurry up or you’ll be late.”

“Yes, mother.”

“You should have some fresh fruit honey; the mangos are delicious!” Said the cheerful voice of your father. You smiled fondly at him while he reciprocated with a smile of his own. “I’ll do then, thank you for your suggestion dad.” You answered while one of the maids served you a portion of fresh mixed fruit in a bowl and Nobu-san poured tea in your cup.

“(Y/N)” Spoke your mom.

“Yes, mother?”

“Your grandmother had organized a family dinner this Saturday that we must assist, of course, I expect nothing less of you than be on your best behavior, also is imperative that you choose your outfit today so I can determine if it’s appropriate for the occasion. If you need to go shopping just tell Sasaki, I activated your debit card again just this time.” She said authoritatively.

“Yes mother, I’ll do it today after class.” You said as you topped your fruit with some honey, yougurt and granola.

“Splendid, now if you excuse me, I have to go now, Haru, hurry up or we’ll be late”

“Yes, cara mia” Your father beamed. Your mother then rose from her chair took her handbag and draped her coat over her shoulders. Your father then finished his coffee as soon as he could and went behind her. “Have a good day princess!” Exclaimed you dad. “Thank you, you too!” You answered while you saw them get escorted by an army of bodyguards.

Soon enough the door was closed and you were left alone. “(Y/N)-sama I advise you to hurry as well, school starts in thirty minutes” Said the familiar voice of Nobu-san. “What!? Oh, I’m going to be late! Ok, I got this! I’ll brush my teeth and I’ll be ready-please ask Sasaki-san to start the car! I will be there in a minute!” You stuttered while climbing up stairs.

“Sure thing, Ojou-sama,” He said with an amused smile.

“Thank you again for joining me for shopping Momo”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, I’ll also take the chance to buy some new accessories as well,” Beamed your ravenette friend. It was the end of the school day and you had asked Momo to help you choose new accessories to complement a dress you already had.

“But to be honest I never imagine that your mom would lose her grip on you so soon even if it’s temporary, what surprised me more was what Kaguya-san told you yesterday,” She whispered trying to no let your conversation be known by Sasaki-san although the automated partition window was up as a precautionary measure. “Are you sure you can trust her?” She said concerned.

“I still don’t know, suddenly everything became so complicated, I mean her plan is good and has a high probability to work, and right now I don’t have a better option, I don’t even have any options, to begin with!” You groaned, confused.

“What’s still bugging me is why is she helping you in the first place? I can’t help but find it suspicious no matter how much I think about it. Did you ask her something about it?”

“I did, but she went into this mysterious and enigmatic mode and just said something like ‘You’ll know soon enough’ It would be easier to pinch a glass than get something out of her.” You said with a tone of frustration.

“I guess that the only thing we can do now is to wait and see,” Sighed Momo while she shrugged her shoulders. “By the way, what are we going to do first?” She said more animatedly.

“Let’s start with the shoes and then maybe a new jewelry set, a new clutch as well would be good. What you think?”

“I think is a splendid idea!” Momo exclaimed.

🏷Taglist:

@bakasbitch18

41 notes · View notes

slothgiirl · 4 years

Text

maybe together we can get somewhere (noah x mc)

the gang finds out noah is alive. he and mc have built a life together while no one was paying attention (12k)

this was fun and experimental to write, trying to build a relationship through the limitations of the gang only getting snippets of noah and mc and hopefully giving enough information to piece together a plot without being to expository. hope u enjoy (noah x mc are soulmates change my mind)

Stacy.

It's a family vacation. Only the second one after her college graduation since she's only living an hour from Westchester.

It's her mom and dad and Connor and his girlfriend and her girlfriend.

Sofi laughs easily, fitting right in at some story Connor is telling and Stacy’s still annoyed that her brother brought up what she and her friends had found in the woods as children when they were at the airport: when anyone could have heard. She doesn't want to deal with it ever again. And she'll get up and move across the country if she has to.

Connor catches her gaze and offers a small smile and just like that; Stacy let's it go.

“Oh a farmers market,” her mom cries out, “we should check it out!”

Her dad laughs, “alright but don't expect me to eat any frankenstein fruit.”

Stacy snorts, finding Vancouver both amazing, and like any other city she's been to. Canada is hardly an exotic travel destination, but it's nice, waking up to a view of the pacific ocean. She wonders if she should visit her old friend since she's in town.

She'd last talked to you on the phone a month ago, surely she could just drop in.

Sofi slides her hand into Stacy’s, before asking, “what are you thinking about?” It's the first time Sofia's really spent time with her family. And her girlfriend knows about her tendency to overthink and now is one of those times.

Stacy's sighs, “just-I have a friend who lives in Vancouver. I was wondering whether I should visit them or not.”

Her girlfriend smiles, leading them into a stall with lots of fruit samples, “You should! If they're your friend I bet they'd be really happy to see you.”

Stacy shrugs. “Yeah, I guess you're right. It's not like I'm going to be in Vancouver again anytime soon.”

She grabs a second sample of the blood oranges, before telling Stacy as she decides to get a few for the road, “so who is this friend?” Because Sofi doesn't know about the whole Redfield thing and she'll never know because Stacy doesn't want to burden her with Redfield and also doesn't want to talk about it herself. It's over: in the past. Finished.

“One of my childhood friends like Lucas. There was this whole group of us,” Stacy explains.

“Like Dan,” Sofi nods, understanding. “Do you guys still talk?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you should totally drop by! Personally, I could skip the biking tour.”

Stacy laughs, “my parents really just got us all the types of tour.” It was nice, how much things had changed and the boat tour had been fun even if she’d gotten pretty cold over those two hours, it had just been the perfect excuse to snuggle up with Sofi and a cup of warm coffee inside. Connor and Vy could be outdoorsy together, taking millions of photos of the water and skyline.

“It’s cute,” Sofi comments, “my dad would just grumble about the expense and lead his own tour, no doubt getting us all lost.”

Stacy shrugs, “that’s why we have google maps.”

Sofi laughs, and pays for her oranges.

Stacy’s tired of the crowded stall, so she steps outside to wait. Canadians may be polite, but there’s only so many people brushing past her she can take. She takes out her phone and asks Lily for your address because of course Lily has it; she had sent everyone care packages and birthday presents without fail. Stacy had just sent an electronic gift card and called it a day.

There’s a good crowd but this isn't a sad little farmers market like the one back home that has like nothing but a stall or two.

She finds that she does miss the small town feel of the city she lives in even if she has to drive everywhere and living close to her family is nice even if she’ll forever hate the woods, any woods. Andy and tom had confirmed nothing was out in Westchester but she won’t chance it.

It’s second nature to go through her emails while she’s on her phone.

She scans the crowd, seeing if she spots her family somewhere. And sure enough Connor and Vy are sniffing at some tea samples, looking disgustingly sweet together and Stacy makes sure to take a picture because she went with Connor and Tom to pick out the ring. He just has to pop the question.

Wait! Was she or Sofi going to ask the question? Oh god, Stacy wanted to marry this girl. It hits her like a ton of bricks and they’re only 23, been dating two years so they have time, but Stacy’s sure. This is the one.

The panic subsides as she realizes, yeah, this is the woman she wants to spend the rest of her life with and that’s no big deal. They’ll take it day by day.

She locks her phone, glances around, ready to go get Sofi who probably struck up a whole conversation with the vendors and is getting invited over to their house for dinner as Stacy stands out here, waiting, and sees. . .well not Noah Marshall because he’s dead. So that’s not possible. And it’s not like she’s in Westchester.

But-but it certainly looks like Noah at a glance.

She can’t actually make out the man’s features, just the back of his head, which wow-Stace, she might just be losing it if she’s starting to see Noah Marshall walking around, but there’s something about the way the man walks and the shade of hair even if the haircut has changed. . .she shakes her head.

She’s imagining things.

“Ready to go,” Sofi asks, putting her hand on Stacy’s arm, “Your mom texted, she said to meet in front of Whole Foods wherever that is. Also, hilarious that there’s a farmers market in front of Whole foods.”

Stacy snorts, nodding, “yeah, let’s go.” And then looks back because it’s been five years and she still wants to kick Noah’s ass even though he’s dead so it’s a non issue at this point.

The man’s gone.

Stacy soon forgets among trying to keep up with the itinerary that her family had made on google docs over the past few months.

They take a ferry in the general direction of the address Lily gave her because it’s a fun way to travel. Connor comes along but Vy stays behind in the hotel because she wants to call her parents.

“Did they go to school here,” Connor asks, because it had been a few years and he hadn’t really kept in touch with you the way Stacy and the others had.

“No,” Stacy explains as she double checks the address while Sofi points out cute houses as they walk down the street google maps is saying the house is on. “They went to UWash. I think they studied something boring like finance which I know Ava made fun of them in the group chat about.”

Sofi, a current law student, asks, “what’s wrong with finance?”

Connor snorts, “you’re talking about the same woman that helped organize supplies for her campus’ black lives matter protests.”

“Ava’s very anti-establishment,” Stacy explains because Sofi hasn’t met Ava. Her old friend had transferred to Berkeley before Stacy started dating Sofi, but not before showing everyone her minor magical abilities. “You know, the whole break up the banks, give native americans their land back, will definitely end up a granola anthropology professor in some university after her goth phase.”

Sofi nods, “Ah, I get it. She’s not wrong about the banks. Did you watch the big short?”

“You have the most boring taste in movies,” Stacy teases because this woman made her watch Dunkirk which was long and boring and the soundtrack gave her a headache.

Her girlfriend shrugs shamelessly, “I did do a film studies minor so. . .”

Stacy knocks on the door. “I hope they’re in.” It’s a cute if small house on the edge of the city, close enough to still be part of Vancouver without being in the middle of traffic. There’s a subway station just two streets over, but taking the ferry had been much nicer. Subways had lost their charm in new york after all the times Stacy had been an hour or two late because of some issue.

“Wait,” Connor asks, raising a brow, “you didn’t text them?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Stacy admits. She hadn’t seen you in over two years. You had even less of a reason to be in Westchester compared to everyone who’s family still lived there. Your house had sat empty since you left for college.

“I think it's cute,” Sofi says, wrapping her arms around Stacy’s waist from behind.

Stacy smiles, blushing slightly.

The door opens up and holy fuck.

Stacy gasps, her mouth forming a wide O because she can’t even form a coherent thought.

A very much alive and happy Noah Marshall opens the door, wearing a pink apron that says something inane “kiss the cook”, with more than a bit of food stains, and flour on his chin. He’s not wearing a beanie, but it’s summer and Stacy is sweating even in shorts, and his hair is cut and styled instead of long and greasy like it had been in high school. His eye color has somehow changed from brown to a strange shiny blue that seems too catlike to be natural but that’s whatever when he’s apparently risen from the dead.

What the hell!

Connor is just as flabbergasted as she is.

And Noah’s caught off guard, the easy smile dying on his lips as he realizes who’s at the door.

It’s Sofi that spares them, asking Noah if you’re home, because she doesn’t know anything about what went down in your senior year of high school.

Noah nods wordlessly, “yeah, yeah, come in,” even though he looks like that's the last thing he wants to do looking as grim faced as he had been in school, sitting in the back and refusing to talk to anyone.

For once, Stacy wishes Sofi wasn't here because she wants nothing more than to kick Noah’s ass. She took kickboxing lessons, she totally could. Noah's taller, but not exactly built in the same way Andy is after all the years of exercise; though he's not exactly a scrawny teenager anymore.

How long has this been going on?

You're sitting at the kitchen table, a cheap flimsy thing from Ikea that at least has the decency to look nice, laptop open while wearing a moth-eaten oversized t-shirt of the beastie boys. You don't even look up, when you ask nonchalantly, “so who was at the door?” You reach a hand from another chip, eating straight from the bag.

“Stacy,” Noah says faux cheerfully. And Stacy did not miss how annoying he could be. “And Connor Green.”

You finally look up. A couple thousand emotions running through your face: surprise as you open your lips to speak and then close it without a word, your brow furrows as you frown, then you exchange glances with Noah, then you're blushing red as you meet Stacy's questioning gaze, caught red handed. After a second, you can't meet her gaze, instead looking at Connor the same way you had that year as if he could single handedly save you from everything and no wonder you asked him to the dance, oblivious to Stacy's crush on you at the time.

“Hey Connor, long time no see,” you get up, crossing the length of the small kitchen to hug him, “Andy's always going on about you, you know.”

Connor manages a smile, “it's good to see you, too.”

“Hi, I'm Sofi,” she says, extending a hand, “Stacy’s told me a lot about you.”

You shake her hand, inviting her to down sit, “all of you. Dinner’salmost ready.” You glance at Stacy asking. . .

She shakes her head. Of course she hasn't mentioned Noah. She's tried to erase him from her memories the same way she's tried to forget all about the ruins in the woods and Dan disappearing.

“Not that you helped,” Noah quips, proceeding to slip back into the kitchen.

“Self care.” You smile back, confirming her suspicion that this had been going on for a while. And you haven't mentioned anything. Not once. But then, you stopped bringing him up when you realized everyone was on the same page, the page you weren't, after what he had done, no amount of childhood tragedy could excuse the fact he had been willing to kill all his friends for some monster. Stacy couldn't find it in her to forgive him, even in death.

Meanwhile, you had spent too much time after everything that happened crying over this jerk.

“What are you making,” Sofi asks as Stacy takes a seat, everything clicking together as you offer everyone something to drink, exchanging lovesick smiles with Noah even as he bats you away from the stove with a spatula.

You loved him.

Despite everything he had done, you loved him. Stacy couldn't understand: had been closer to Dan and you than Noah even as kids. The way you looked at him said everything; the way you'd chased after him, unwilling to let him go into the woods alone.

It made sense why you were so willing to forgive him, and why you had spent so much time mourning him.

“Vegetable pot pie,” Noah explains, starting to roll out the dough, “This one decided to become vegetarian.”

“Since when,” Connor asks, deciding to just go along with it all. Maybe Connor was just mentally stronger, better able to cope with all the supernatural weirdness having helped Tom out at the lake, and still trying to understand the power from all of Pritch’s journals.

“Just a few months ago,” you admit. “It was this whole vegan challenge at work for the month but I missed yogurt a lot but giving up meat was pretty easy.”

“Where are you working now,” Stacy asks, taking a seat carefully, making sure not to turn her back on Noah.

“Oh,” you smile, closing your computer, resting your chin against your hand, “UBC, at the anthropology museum. It's why I-we moved here. I do financial analysis for their investments. Ava found it really funny that I got a job at a museum before her.”

“Oh,” Stacy wonders, glancing at Noah again, who's just as tense if the line of his shoulders is anything to go by, and the telling line of his mouth that reminds Stacy of the first and last time she tried to include him: a APUSH presentation that Noah had waved off and preferred to bomb. “You told Ava?”

She feels the sting of hurt but Ava makes the most sense considering you were closest to her and Lily. Not to mention Ava was still messing around with the occult. A heavy lead ball of anxiety always forms whenever Ava has shown Stacy her magic tricks.

You get the double meaning.

Noah pointedly ignores her, carrying a conversation about the best places to eat in the city with Sofi.

You force yourself to smile, “about the job yeah. Thought she'd laugh since she's the anthropologist. She called it the encroachment of late stage capitalism.”

“That sounds about right for Ava,” Stacy snorts.

You'd chosen Noah over her: over your friends. The choice had already been made before Stacy had even known this was an option.

You two were a packaged deal.

Stacy takes a deep breath, and turns her back on Noah, joining the light conversation of local things to do in Vancouver and how you had completely face planted while trying to ice skate.

“-and instead of helping me,” you tease, getting plates out for everyone, “Noah just sat back and laughed!”

“And took a video,” Noah points out. “You don't have any balance babe.”

“I wouldn't do you like that,” you wrinkle your nose, smiling fondly as Noah brings the food out of the oven, the smell filling the small house and suddenly Stacy’s mouth is watering.

“You have,” he replies all mock offended, “you left me in the cab!”

“I was very drunk,” you shrug shamelessly, then turn to Sofi and Connor with an explanation. “Too much fun on date night.”

“Shut up,” Noah utters, placing the food on the table, looking incredibly soft and it finally sinks in. He's alive. He's alive and you're together and while Stacy doesn't care for him, she's glad you're doing well.

She's still going to punch him the first chance she gets.

The food’s some of the best she's ever had.

She hugs you goodbye two hours later: a great big tight hug that says everything she hasn't been able to because of distance. She puts all her love and tenderness into hugging you. “It was so good seeing you,” Stacy says and means it. One day they'll talk about this.

But not now.

She's dragging Sofi into this.

You nod, hugging her back just as tight, before whispering in softly into her ear, “please don't tell anyone.”

And how could she refuse, with your sweet chocolate eyes looking at her like that, as if she holds everything you hold dear in her hands. It's easy for Stacy to make the choice to look away and say nothing.

Lily.

Britney makes them take a hundred selfies before they even leave the airport. Lily beams at the camera even as she pays for starbucks. “Aw man we should've tried tim hortons now that we're officially in Canada.” Lily muses, shooting you a text, letting you know she'd soon be out of the airport.

“But do they have peppermint frappuccinos,” Britney asks, leading the way as they head to the exit. Airports were always so big. It took forever to get anywhere.

“I'm not big on peppermint,” Lily comments even though Britney already knows that, before taking a long sip of her pink drink. She really had been craving a drink. That was another thing about planes: dehydration. Still, it would be worth it to visit you for the first time since you moved to Canada.

“I know,” Britney winks, “that's just more peppermint bark for me.”

Britney's the one that spots you first. Lily's taller than you, but still pretty short. “Your loser friends over there.” Britney teases and it shows how far she and Lily have come that they're able to laugh about the time wasted in high school where she bullied other kids including Lily.

Lily follows on her heels, fixing her coat to try and look cute. It had only been a three hour plane ride but it was three hours plus dealing with airport security so it felt closer to three years. Gosh it had almost been three years since she graduated college. Time just flew by.

Excitement bubbles up and Lily’s smiling hard when she sees you in an olive green jacket and grey hoodie combo, still the same as ever if happier now that you weren't stressing about school.

She had meant to visit you sooner but being an adult meant things often got in the way.

Then Lily spots Noah Marshall hovering behind you, laughing at something you just said , face lit up like a kid who's just been told they can finally dig into their Halloween candy. Except it can't be Noah because he's dead. Yet here he is, wearing a black coat, washout blue hoodie, and of course a beanie. If Jocelyn was here, she'd say he looks like an asshole wearing aviators indoors.

Removing any doubt of who he is, Lily having already come up with a reasonable explanation of you having coped with Noah's death by finding a lookalike, dies when he spots Britney and Lily before you. “Lily,” Noah grins as if he didn't die after trying to kill her, “you looked like someone kicked your puppy.”

You smack his shoulder. “Behave,” you tease as you try and smother a gasp. You meet her gaze sheepishly, but Lily's still too flabbergasted to respond.

“Aren't you supposed to be dead,” Britney asks.

He deadpans, “Mandela effect.”

This time, you dissolve into laughter.

Noah glances over at you with a smile, pleased with himself.

Lily finally manages, “explain.”

You nod, “let's get you settled in first.”

Britney hands her bag to Noah, “here. I need to carry Lily's bag.”

“Sure thing,” Noah snorts, taking her bag.

Lily had imagined Canada to be much more green. Like a national park green, with so much plant life she could smell it thick in the air, but it's pretty much just another downtown metropolitan area like Seattle. You'd really only moved a few hours away from Seattle so that made sense.

She keeps glancing over at Noah as if he'll disappear and this is some trick from whatever thing still lived in Westchester. But he's still there, flesh and blood, his arm draped around your shoulder as they stand by where she and Britney have taken a seat, bags under their feet. They had only brought carry on bags.

You're obviously together but Lily keeps getting stuck on the fact that Noah's alive.

She isn't surprised. Noah only ever had time for you that year; both of you slinking off when you thought no one was paying attention. Lily remembers seeing you hug Noah in some lonely corner of the school if you didn't skip fifth period math.

And Connor had said he'd seen you both out in town during school hours.

Maybe it's the glasses.

Noah won't be alive to her until she sees his entire face, leaving no room for error.

“Can't believe you're moving to Seattle!” You repeat because yeah Lily had gotten a nice job offer there.

“Neither can I,” Britney complains, “I like SF, and I'd like to live somewhere warm one day. Aren't there any major tech firms in Miami?”

“Nasa,” Lily says thoughtfully, “I didn't have the experience to apply though.”

Her girlfriend frowns, “You went to Berkeley though. That has to count for like ten years.”

Lily laughs.

“You should've shot your shot,” you agree.

“Isn't Florida super humid though,” Noah mentions tilting his head, reminding Lily that he's there and she can't help but flinch. “And there's tons of snakes and agitators everywhere.”

“I like snakes,” Britney notes.

He had been so sweet those last few weeks, Lily thinks to herself. Noah was always saying how she was much stronger because she could be kind even as everything was going to hell. In english, she'd burst into tears, sick and tired of having nightmares just to wake up to a living nightmare, and he'd chased after her, comforting her.

It had made his betrayal hurt all the more.

“So how exactly are you,” Lily asks, dancing around the subject. Surely it was rude to bring up that Noah had been dead.

“Alive,” he replies, quirking his brow, holding Britney's bag as he opens the door.

“Yeah. . .that.”

This time, when you and Noah look at each other, there's no boundless joy that fits in perfectly with the holiday season. You've even put up snowmen in the house's windows, and there's lights wrapped around the porch: off right now. It's just you looking at Noah with glassy eyes and Noah with an amount of tenderness in his eyes that Lily didn't know people were capable of in real life: the look people get when they're finally able to confess how in love they are in movies.

It's only there for a second and then Noah's making light of the whole situation, as if he can't stand to see that haunted look in your eyes, “Well you know what they say, when you wish upon a star-”

You roll your eyes, lightly smacking his arm, then changing your mind and squeezing his arm. “Don't be a dick.” Then you round your attention on Lily, “there's the shoe rack.” Before ushering the group into the living room. “I-I didn't,” you take a deep breath, tugging your coat off as you take a seat on a cheap navy cotton couch. “I guess I never stopped looking for a way,” you glance at Noah, “for a way to fix things. I mean, I still went back there for all the school breaks.”

You've stopped looking at Lily, gaze locked on Noah's. Pink dusts his cheeks and he ducks his head, looking alway, out into the quiet street, skyscrapers in the distance.

Britney purses her lips, listening intently. She heard accounts of this nature from Jocelyn. Dan knee better than to tell her anything about the woods back home.

“And I found it,” you finish without elaboration. Lily understands. Some things were, there were some things too awful to speak once again into being.

He slips his hand into yours, threading your fingers together.

It's sweet and though Lily's reservations remain, it's clear he loves you.

“Okay then,” Britney claps together, knowing full well she was ruining the moment, “how soon can we go shopping. I'm doing all my christmas shopping in Canada.”

“Because of the exchange rate,” Noah sneers, not missing a beat.

“Hardly,” Britney snaps back, “I'm a certified trophy wife now.” She smiles as she looks over at Lily who giggles.

It's two in the morning and Lily keeps tossing and turning. It's warm with the heater chugging away in the night. But she can't sleep.

They'd spent the whole day out, exploring the city. You'd gotten a few days off work. Britney had made you both carry bags and bags of gifts as promised.

At least she'd have plenty of time to wrap them. December had only just begun.

But Lily can't sleep.

It isn't the nightmares of her childhood: of Jane and all the things she wishes she had said no to, or those terrible months in which Lily had nearly died from sheer terror, but a pool of anxiety masquerading as restlessness.

She gets up, having visited you before back in Seattle, back when you had shared an apartment with Ava and a revolving door of roommates during college, and wonders if Ava knows. Ava, who messes around in the more supernatural corners of the world, who you had always been closest too.

Lily gets up and decides maybe a glass of water will calm her down as she chews over the idea of Noah and her both under the same roof.

She slips into the dark kitchen, with that weird anxiety that she was sneaking around that she could never shake even knowing that you wouldn't mind her going through your kitchen. She slips into the kitchen and nearly faints at the sight of Noah at the table.

He's sitting in pitch dark.

Only it isn't-

“-your eyes,” Lily hisses, breaking the calm of the twilight hours.

Noah's sitting in the dark reading.

Because his eyes are glowing blue like redfield when she was little and redfield was a friend and hadn't shown it's true nature.

Noah's eyes are glowing.

“Shit,” Noah says gently, reaching up to flip the lights on.

He moves slowly, but Lily still flinches.

“I'm sorry Lils,” he says, those three words encompassing so many years and the darkest parts of her life, casting a shadow over her whole life she can never escape because Westchester is home but it's also where it happened and Noah's a big part of why Lily spent a year having panic attacks: having flashbacks to that awful game. He says it and the last itchy scab over the deep wound Lily has harbored for years flakes off.

Lily does a little nod of acceptance, but keeps her eyes on his unnaturally reflective eyes, a light in the dark.

She swallows thickly.

That glass of water sounds amazing right about now.

“What are you doing reading in the dark,” she asks. It seems Noah had been right all those years ago; Lily was able to keep trying, a flower growing in a crack of cement.

“Studying,” Noah says calmly. “It's pretty boring actually. Sort of makes me wish I was still haunting the woods.” His smile is small, testing the waters.

Lily-she can't. She shits her eyes, shaking her head once, slow.

“Sorry,” he says easily, shutting a thick textbook, “coping mechanism.”

Lily thinks about all those nights she'd wake up in the middle of a nightmare, “is it a glitch then?” She tilts her head curiously, the way she spent hours going over the same file of code checking for any bugs: and mistakes that had slipped through the cracks.

“You could call it that. . .but they reckon that it's more of a give and take situation.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt. “The power takes people but gives them power, and when, when they brought me back, I took something with me.”

For once, dread doesn't fill Lily at the mention of what lies in the woods back home.

Lily nods, and pours herself a glass of water. “What are you studying?”

“Psychology,” Noah answer's, “trying to do developmental psychology. I want to,” he waits a beat before finishing in a rush. “I'd like to be a child therapist.”

“I thought you wanted to go to culinary school,” Lily questions. She remembers you mentioning that once. Then there's the fact that Noah had brought her lunch to school a few times when he'd learned that Lily's parents had forced her into a diet.

“I did,” he shrugs. “Turns out I like to cook for myself more than anything.”

Lily smiles.

She's glad he's able to move on like she has.

“You know I use to have nightmares. Nothing really helped apart from-.”

“Tiring myself out,” you both finish.

Noah smiles grimly.

Lily drinks he water and keeps him company for a while.

Lucas

Logically, Lucas knows that Canada is not that different from the states yet he still feel like the place should be more exotic as he steps off the plane for work. It's grueling work really, the pay is bad and he flies economy more than is healthy for his back, but he likes keeping private corporations on their toes. That was the whole point of environmental science, though going to law school for the same thing is starting to look more and more appealing everyday.

He just feels like he doesn't have the weight to truly go after these people and hates having to pass off the cases when he knows he could do more.

But law school is. . .stressful.

He'd have already started his third year of law if he had just gone straight to law school after undergrad.

Lucas wonders if he's ready to manage that type of stress.

He gets off the plane and has to go directly to the non-profits office. It's a tiny little thing in a rougher part of the city; gone are the shiny sports cars and whole foods.

There's boxes of paperwork dating back from the 60s and he gets to work, drinking the cheap donut shop coffee that the office head, an amicable black man who still has a rhythmic african accent that Lucas isn't worldly enough to place, gives him with a shrug, “got to support our local businesses eh?”

Lucas nods. “Tell me about it. I feel like I missed out on the New York that was happening.” Ava had sent him a buy back the block patch and he really hadn't been surprised because she had always been opinionated and headstrong about it. If she was the town witch, well then she was going to be the biggest baddest witch.

He types a reminder into his notes to get her a souvenir.

He uses yelp to find a cheap diner, where he continues to pour over a thick manila folder--have to break up the work--and finds that he can smell the ocean here even when he can't exactly see it.

Lucas sets a reminder to himself to go enjoy the beach at least once.

Then he sees the reminder to call and ask Stacy where you were living. Lucas half wanted it to be a surprise, but worried he'd miss you.

He knew you liked going out dancing. And he had arrived on a Friday night.

It was unorthodox.

He usually worked strictly in the states since each country had their own laws and environmental precedent established by the courts. And alright, Lucas’ phone had a lot of law school tabs open. He was only twenty four. That wasn't too old for law school.

Weren't some students in legally blonde in their thirties?

Experience could give him an edge.

Lucas calls Stacy but it goes straight to voice mail.

Right, time difference.

He'd have to wait until tomorrow.

Having not exchanged any money as of yet, Lucas pays for his breakfast for dinner with his card and hopes the fee isn't too bad. Then he stuffs the folders and decides to walk to his hotel.

It's an hour long walk through town but years of being incredibly stressed had left him with the purposeful choice of slowing down when he could. Sometimes it felt like forcing himself to slow down, but he always felt better after a walk through a new city or sitting down with a fictional book even when he swore he didn't feel all wound up.

As far as cheap diners, tonight's was good and he had fun trying poutine.

Lucas walks through the tall buildings and wishes he hadn't worn a suit jacket. He should've worn a plain shirt or one of those gag gifts Andy was always sending him from various thrift stores. It might be further up north than even he grew up, but it was still hot in the summer.

Walking an hour in a casual suit was not his greatest idea, but the city carried the same vibrant energy the new york had. The energy that had encouraged Lucas to go to a house party--once.

He's walking by a street full of dive bars all blaring out nostalgic hits from his teenage years from Hannah Montana, which okay, to Kesha which sounded about right, and of course, Blackpink. The chalkboards outside all promise cheap drinks but Lucas isn't a big drinker.

He isn't sure how much of that is avoiding any substance that could get him hooked or if he's making that choice because he really doesn't like alcohol.

Lucas is just about through, about to by a monolithic building that has a bunch of displays in the windows, when he does a double take.

Noah fucking Marshall is smoking on the curb outside a bar, face flushed.

There's no doubt about it. Lucas would know that asshole anywhere. The same sharp jawline and prominent nose, brown hair curling around his ears only a few inches showered than it had in high school. He's wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket over a white shirt and looking way too happy for a murderer.

Noah Marshall wearing aviators at night like the rat bastard he is!

The intense feelings of rage and wanting to hit something until the world righted itself surges in Lucas’ chest until there's a white hot anger in his throat and red clouding his vision.

He blacks out.

One second he's furiously gapping at the man-

the next

-Lucas is standing over Noah Marshall, knuckles on fire having just sucker punched the fucker.

Oh shit.

Noah looks just as surprised for a second as he looks up, blood beading up where his lips split open.

Lucas watches as recognition hits those bambi blue eyes---wait, blue.. .?

And then Noah shrugs, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips as he states, “yeah. I deserved that.”

There's a couple people looking over.

Lucas is still pissed as Noah gets up, dusting himself off and looking at the barely smoked cigarette on the ground as if he wants to smoke it, before grabbing the glasses and placing them back on instead.

Then, he grabs another cigarette, “want one,” he offers Lucas who no, wouldn't want one: wouldn't want anything from Noah if he was drowning and Noah had the only life jacket.

He was good with drowning.

Thanks.

Lucas, anger still fizzing under his skin like boiling water, asks, “how the fuck are you here!”

Noah shrugs, before slurring and it's then that Lucas realizes the other man is flushed drunk, “I live here,” without an ounce of sarcasm.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Lucas says, curling his lip and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh you know me. I'm just plotting world domination and decided Vancouver would be the perfect location for my evil villain lair. I've got a neon sign and everything.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, grinding his teeth together. “Do you always have to be such an asshole?”

Noah spreads his hands out and proceeds to do jazz hands, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

Fuck, Lucas feels like punching him again.

He's really thinking about it as he watches Noah, sure the idiot will try something again, when he hears your voice as you stumble out of the bar, “I knew it! You were going out for a smoke break!”

Noah's entire demeanor shifts, no longer the boy Lucas has built up in his head as the cause of all their problems. Over the years, he's decided that Noah had known from the start. In the depths of his denial, Lucas had told himself that Noah had kidnapped Dan. But, you appear, and Noah's turns bright pink as he hurried to stomp out the cigarette you've already seen like a naughty school boy, even as he turns and smiles as if you hung the sun in the sky and painted the night stars. It's lovesick the way you both look at each other with the fondness of ancient couples out for a walk in the park, lost in their own world.

However the fuck he's alive, Lucas realizes that this Noah, the real living Noah, has been just as freaked as the rest of them. It's something he hasn't thought about in years.

Noah had lost Jane.

It's enough for Lucas to unclench his hands even if he's still seething because what the hell, he still offered them all up on a silver platter. Redfield or Jane--whatever it was in the end--had given Ava powers and she hadn't stabbed your group of friends in the back.

You cross the distance quickly, and throw your arms around his middle, tipsy. That's probably why your smile is so pure-untouched by all the trauma and boring adult problems like remembering to pay the bills and having to call the cable company for the fifth time.

You don't even notice Lucas.

“What happened to your face,” you ask, raising your hand to cup Noah's cheek, frowning.

Noah nods over at Lucas.

You finally notice him.

“Lucas,” you wag your finger at him, still cuddled up to the man in question, “You can't punch Noah. Do you know how much trouble I went through to get him back?”

It shouldn't be possible, but Noah turns pinker.

“Aw babe,” Noah teases you with a familiarity that carries depth.

This wasn't a new development then.

“You really do care about me.”

This time, you round on Noah, wagging your finger menacingly, “Don’t be an idiot! Of course I love you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me!”

Which has Lucas majorly side eyeing you.

Sure, Noah had grown up to be tall and not unattractive, as far as pasty white boys were concerned, but he'd still tried to kill everyone.

Noah also looks skeptical.

“What are you doing in town Lucas,” you then ask.

“Work,” Lucas replies blandly, as he tries to come to terms with this reality altering discovery. “You were dead.”

“That's not entirely true,” Noah muses philosophically, “Physically I was dead but technically I was still roaming the woods as a monster.”

Reflexively, you interject, resting your hand on his chest, “you're not a monster.”

“I thought you liked the shape of water.”

Which sends you squealing. “Noah!”

Lucas doesn't get it. You are the strongest person he knows who can talk to anyone and has a sense of determination that rivals a gold medalist: the one who kept everyone together during one of the shiftiest times in his life, and he's who you settle for! “If you have to say technically, you've already lost the argument.”

You snort.

Noah rolls his eyes good naturedly.

“Wait,” you realize, eyes going wide, “does that mean you're younger than me now.”

Noah tilts his head in thought, “physically. . .”

“Pretty sure that means yes,” Lucas adds, wondering how long Noah had been back for.

“Oh my god, I'm stealing from the cradle!”

Noah looks incredibly affronted as he blinks rapid looking down at you like you'd grown a second head.

“You mean cradle robbing?”

“I'm. . .twenty four,” Noah says. Not even he sounds convinced.

“Twenty two,” you correct archly. Then look at Lucas with a friendly smile, “you want to go get pho?”

“Right now!” Lucas checks his watch. It was already midnight. He should've been at his hotel room sleeping by now.

You nod.

Noah elaborates, “it's pricey but the broth hits different. They have some pretty good view of the city too.”

Two years. Noah had been back for two years and you never said anything.

Lucas can put up with Noah for a few hours to spend time with you. After all, you were the one who was putting up with him for life apparently.

“Should we let-,” you begging to ask, amusement dancing in your eyes, city lights reflected in the dark brown hue that had a quality of depth that made it easy to open up to you.

“Nah,” Noah smirks, “Sheer chatted some dude up, they won't even realize-”

“Rahul will though.”

“Psst, it's fine.”

You've both built a life here, far removed from any traces of Westchester. Maybe that's where he had gone wrong. Lucas had been so desperate to escape he's never found a place of his own, and still haunted by his one and only home: a place he wants nothing to do with. He needed to make a new home.

Law school wasn't sounding too shabby.

Noah leads the way.

A lightbulb turns on.

“What's with your eyes?” Lucas asks.

Noah chuckles, “sometimes you fall into a vat of radioactive waste because that's just the type of luck you have.”

You shake your head, amused. “Side effect. It's nothing serious. We checked.”

That doesn't comfort Lucas at all.

He wonders if Connor or Tom could fix that just to be sure Noah wouldn't suddenly go Redfield on you while you were sleeping.

Ugh, that was one mental image he didn't need.

“So what terrible horrifying government secret are you here investigating and does it have to do with a company hiding vats of radioactive waste,” you ask.

Lucas takes the bait.

He could and has talked people's ears off about the loose regulations on place on waste disposal among an array of industries.

Andy, Dan, Tom

This all starts with two things as far as Tom is concerned. First, they've all been talking for ages about doing a guys road trip after everyone still around Westchester had driven down to visit Ava. Not that the girls weren't fun, Tom thought to himself, but it just sounded nice.

He never had a sleepover growing up so this would make up for that. At least that was the idea.

Then Lucas called Andy freaking out about Noah Marshall and Connor could only nod and go, “yeah he was with them about a year. . almost two since we visited. I think it's already been two years.”

Which was a total mindfuck because why hadn't he mentioned anything.

Why hadn't Stacy?

Tom’s done some research into necromancy and it never ends well which is why they pile into Dan’s prius and hit the road to Vancouver Canada. Sans Connor because Vy is pregnant and Connor is glued to her side. “I think they were dating,” he also adds, bookmarking some cases around New Orleans that scream supernatural activity. That throws everyone for another mind loop as he clues the Pine Springs gang who wasn't there that senior year, why Noah Marshall shouldn't be alive, much less freely walking around. The only person who takes the news relatively well is Dan, who scratches his chin thoughtfully before saying, “that makes sense,” he nods to himself.

Andy rounds on him, ready to kick Noah's ass on sight which Tom will totally back him up on. Tom still can't handle spiders for which Danni and Jocelyn continue to tease him about.

“How in the fuck does that make sense,” Andy seeths, “that motherfucker landed you in a coma! I broke my leg and had to repeat senior year!”

Dan adds, “well you know, they spoke about how tragic his death was. And they used to have nightmares of him dying-”

They all turn to look at Dan.

“What,” Andy says, “when did they tell you that?”

Dan shrugs, “well they were always coming over that year and making a point to spend time with everyone but I always thought they looked sad and thinking about them alone on the edge of town,” he trails off. He’d never brought up your parents absence, but it was clearly felt. “So I went over to theirs when I could,” Dan finishes.

Andy shakes his head, “no. I don’t know what or how, but people don’t just come back from the dead and everything's sunshine and roses,” he crosses his arms against his chest and fumes across the entire state of New York.

Tom has to agree with Andy. There’s nothing in their research to suggest that people can just come back okay. Everything taken by the power ended up twisted into a funhouse version; it never ended well.

They stretch their legs in Cleveland, Andy still scowling. Every now and then he’ll rant about how Noah has to be up to something and he has to go save you from dying. Tom doesn’t bring it up, prefering to let Andy work through it now and wrap his head around Noah Marshall being alive on the car ride up to Canada, but Connor had said Noah’s been back for at least two years--wouldn’t he already have done something? He thinks of you and how you had been alone with Noah at the end. Maybe you had kept some things to yourself.

It was hard to relive trauma aloud.

It made it more real.

Tom sends Imogen a few snaps in Toledo as Andy blasts The White Stripes, to fit his mood.

He wishes Parker had been able to get the days off. Having someone at a distance from the situation might help everyone keep their cool. He knows he won’t stop Andy from beating Noah’s ass.

Dan picks up postcards in Chicago for everyone, as they sit by the famous Bean eating pizza.

“I can’t tell if this is better or if I’m fucking starving,” Andy admits, on his third slice.

Dan snorts, looking up from his lap where he’s writing out the postcards, wanting to send them quickly, “so they make it back before we do.”

Tom takes a walk around the plaza, thinking that fall really was the best weather, cold enough for a sweater without being too freezing and the sun didn’t burn.

They don’t stop in Wisconsin or Minnesota except for gas and Mcdonalds.

Andy sleeps as Tom takes over the driving.

Dan’ll be up next.

“Please play something other than Beach House,” Tom complains at Dan, “this is going to make me fall asleep.”

Dan chuckles, “Its good night driving music.”

“No Dan,” Tom shakes his head with a smile

The sun rises, and Tom gets to sleep.

He wakes up in Rapid City, South Dakota and they have to recreate that awful Hilary Clinton, “just chilling in Rapid City,” Andy says mockingly.

Dan almost chokes on his coffee.

Montana is so fucking beautiful and Tom’s seized with the sudden urge to come live out here. “We could totally do it,” he tells the other men, “it’s cheap out here. We could buy a huge piece of land and never have to deal with any bullshit again. Our friend group could do it. Danni’s really handy and Lily could set us up with wifi!”

“Bro,” Andy says gravely, “you know I love you, but I’m not moving to Montana with you.”

Dam smiles softly, “Danni would have a field day taking pictures here.”

Montana is beautiful and green and none of the nature here has that heavy feeling the woods in Westchester do, but they’re tired and exhausted from being on the road for the last two days. They crash at a motel 8 and sleep for the next twelve hours.

They ask this beautiful woman who's wearing birks and has a tote bag emblazoned “love your mother” with a planet earth painted on, to take a picture of them in front of Pike Place Market. Dan has her number before Tom’s done sending the pictures to his Pine Springs groupchat, teasing Parker about having stayed behind to yell at teenagers smoking weed while driving boats around the lake: accidents waiting to happen.

Tom has never been to Seattle.

He knows most of his friends from Westchester have to visit you or Ava, and he's grown close to Ava, but at the time he was more of a friend of a friend and so never flew up to Seattle.

“Is it lame I'm still tired,” Andy asks, as they find a park to sit down at. It felt so good to be able to lay in the grass instead of sitting cramped up in the car.

“Age is starting to hit us.” Dan muses. “Either of you want to come get some things with me.”

His friend snorts, “Haven't you gotten enough gifts for everyone?” Which, yeah, Dan has been accumulating a small horde of souvenirs in the back for all his friends. He's a thoughtful guy. Tom’s not surprised the man’s a nurse. If he'd had Dan as a nurse when he was a kid, he might not completely hated going to the doctors office.

“I was kinda thinking about getting something from every state,” Dan says, blushing red as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I think it's sweet,” Tom says, clasping a hand on the other man's back. “Cheesy, but sweet.”

Andy shakes his head, “we should've gotten there by now. If only we hadn't stopped in Montana-”

“Noah's not going anywhere,” Dan points out, “you can kick his ass tonight or tomorrow.”

“They know we’re coming,” Andy scowls, “He could be halfway around the world by now.”

“Just remember Lucas already sucker punched him,” Tom offers his friend as consolation.

Dan shakes his head a little, but stays silent. Tom hasn't been able to get Dan’s feelings on the whole situation. He can’t imagine him being completely ambivalent or cool with Noah getting off scot free, but then again, Tom doesn’t know every little detail.

No one talks about it in detail even in their little power club that Connor and him started up.

He gets it.

It’s not something anyone wants to linger on.

And he understands better than most.

His monster was different, but no less horrifying.

“I’ll go with you,” Tom offers Dan, because this is a new city and even though the point is to go see what's up with Noah, and make sure he isn’t still the shadow monster he was the last time Tom saw him, he still wants to make the most of it.

“Two hours,” Andy says with a warning. “Two hours or I leave you in Seattle.”

“Sure, sure,” Tom shakes his head. Andy would never do them like that.

“If you’re coming we should go to the space needle,” Dan says thoughtfully, taking out his phone to begin google mapping the places he wants to hit up.

“Two hours!” Andy calls back from where he’s watching a couple people play basketball.

Tom discovers he has a thing about heights as they ascend via an elevator. It’s a slow day and the elevator operator talks him through it, telling him all sorts of bad puns and more information about the space needle then he can remember. “Sarah Palin came by the other day,” the woman who looks to be about their age with green ringlets and a friendly smile that doesn’t seem to be forced like most customer service workers smile (smile through the pain), “and she said she could see Alaska from here! Get it?”

Tom tries to smile, but yeah, he’s never doing this again. “Did you see the masked singer with Sarah Palin?”

The girl nods, “how the mighty have fallen. You think there's an alternate universe where she was vice president and insead Joe Biden’s on Dancing with the Stars?”

Tom’s laugh dies in his throat as the elevator jolts to a stop. It certainly feels like a huge jolt, but that may be his anxiety making everything elven times worse.

“Well thank you for riding air force two,” she salutes as Tom finally steps into the platform.

Sweet, sweet relief.

He sort of has to go take a picture or two off the viewing platform. He’s made it this far.

“She was totally into you,” Dan says, stepping in to take Tom’s mind off things.

“Was not.”

“Totally was.”

Tom rolls his eyes, “she was just being nice.”

“Sure man, sure. But she was.”

They arrive even later than Andy had predicted. It’s midnight and proof that they had dallied in Seattle for two long. This is the first time Dan has ever left the country so of course they stop and take pictures.

And then they stop and eat at the cute little cabin lodge just off the highway.

And even Andy forgets about the Noah business.

They pull into the street, disappearing from the city in the turn onto the street. It’s crazy how much of a difference a street can make. A little quiet row of houses tucked under the twinkling lights of the city lights.

Your house is a small one story thing, clearly an older home from before cookie cutter houses came into fashion, and with a certain amount of charm even with the dead plant by the doorstep: closer to a cottage than a house like something out of Snow White. There’s even a ouija board doormat that Tom thinks is completely in line with your humor and probably Noah’s as well. He just doesn’t remember much about Noah when he was alive. Last time Tom saw Noah, Noah was saying sorry to the birds. People could change.

Right?

It’s not like Noah had gone all Zodiac Killer on his friends.

The lights are off and Tom feels kind of bad that he’s about to wake you up, but he also really wants to crash in an actual bed.

Dan knocks on your door as Andy paces behind Tom.

A minute later, you peak your head out the door. Your navy blue sweater is cuffed around your hands, clearly meant for someone taller, helping to stave off the autumn chill, and grey flannel pajama pants. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand as you yawn. “You’re here,” you smile and hug Dan with one arm, “do you need any help with the bags.”

“The bags can wait until tomorrow,” Dan answers for the group, “I just want to sleep in a real bed.”

You snort, “don’t actually have a guest room,” you admit, keeping your voice down as you usher them all inside, “but I do have a pretty comfortable pull out couch and way too many quilts. I have to stop going to Victoria Island.”

Andy looks around, tense.

Tom’s a little surprised when you hug him too. “Want any food? There’s a ton of leftovers. Noah’s been stress baking. He has a bunch of exams this week.,” you say with such casualness.

“We already ate,” Dan offers, “there was this cool looking log cabin that sold me on pumpkin spice muffins.”

“Where is Noah,” Andy asks, cutting right to the quick.

You look at him pointedly as you explain, “he went to sleep early. He’s got school at like 7 am. I have no clue why. . .college was all about afternoon classes for me.”

Andy wisely, let’s it go for the moment.

You show them where things are, the couch is already extended. The TV’s sitting on a pile of textbooks with a nintendo switch right next to it.

Tom is out before his head hits the pillow.

They wake up and eat the promised leftovers as you rush to find the spare key to leave with your friends before you too have to go to work. “I would've asked for the day off like I did for the rest of the week,” you hastily explain, filling the electric kettle with water, “but it was Maureen’s birthday and I would’ve felt like such a dickhead.”

You make Dan promise to come look through the Museum you work at before it closes, and then you’re running off with a tumbler full of tea, putting a hand through your hair as if that’ll save it from looking like a mess. Tom’s unsurprised at your easy nature when they’re all imposing, making no secret of the real reason they had driven all the way to the other coast of North America.

Andy conducts a walkthrough of the house, leaving the sole bedroom of the house alone.

Dan shakes his head, flipping through the TV channels, before logging onto your netflix account, the most recent show having been played was Avatar the Last Airbender. “Anything you want to watch?”

“The good place,” Tom offers, “everyone’s always saying it's good.”

Dan shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have netflix.”

Andy comes back with a picture frame clutched in his hand, “He’s such a dick!” Red seeping into his neck as he fumes.

Tom looks over at the picture, but it’s just a photo any normal couple would have hanging around their house: a blurry polaroid of you and Noah, each with a red solo cup at some house party, with the date, over a year ago, written on the border. He gets it, he does. And Andy’s his friend, so he nods.

Dan on the other hand, “okay. . .”

Andy disappears back down the hall. “I just don’t understand how they kept this from us! I mean-after what he did!”

Tom nods the same way he always had when his dad would start lecturing him in japanese even though his japanese is limited to whatever the japanese equivalent of Dora the explorer teaching spanish is.

“Probably so we wouldn’t freak out,” Dan offers, not looking away from the screen.

Andy marches back into the living room with a deep set frown, “Noah was fine offering us up to that monster and now they’re here playing house like nothing ever happened.” He sits down next to Tom, head in his hand. “I just don’t get it.”

He clasps a hand on Andy’s shoulder in comfort.

“Maybe they just wanted to forget as much as we did,” Dan notes quietly. “Some of us left and never really went back.” He’s talking about Lily and Lucas, who only visits during the holidays, then there’s Ava out in Arizona, busy doing field research and only going to Westchester in between jobs. Dan’s an hour away, a world away, near Stacy.

It’s really just Andy and Connor who stayed.

He’s in Pine Springs, a good hour to the west of Westchester.

“He died,” Andy grumbles out, “it could’ve easily been them, or any of us, or all of us. We’re lucky no one else did.”

Dan frowns, looking over at Andy, “I don’t like this anymore than you do. I’m not jazzed that Noah’s been back for years and we just found out. But I trust their judgement.”

“Necromancy is serious business,” Tom says, breaking the staring contest that’s started between the two friends.

Noah’s at least a little bit of a coward, as he saunters up to them, running a hand through his hair as he takes a seat at the table.

You had said this diner had the best malai kofta in the neighborhood.

He’s resting expression is still skewed towards sour, even as there’s other noticeable changes from the Noah Tom remember’s who’d kept to himself in school. His hair cut into a flattering undercut, clothes no longer on the angsty scruffy side but still decidedly casual as he opts for a dark palette, and of course, the blue eyes that seem to glow even in the afternoon light Lucas had mentioned in great detail. Noah’s clean shaven and lean, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

He only spares Tom a second’s glance before he focuses in on you, his lips quirk-ing up in a small smile. Sitting down, you lean forward expectantly as he plants a kiss on your cheek by way of greeting, before saying, “C’s make degrees right?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “but you did fine so it doesn’t matter. I ordered you the chicken and waffles. That’s what you usually get right?”

“Actually,” Noah starts, clearly about to tease you.

You shove his shoulder lightly, “beggars can’t be choosers.”

Dan extends an olive branch, “hey Noah.”

Which Andy immediately shoots down, “so it’s true.”

Tom’s only glad they’re already sitting and yeah, Noah’s a coward for meeting them in public, not that it had stopped Lucas from sucker punching him. It probably won’t stop Andy, only he’s sandwiched in between Dan and Tom and there’s no way Dan is getting up and out just so Andy can punch Noah. That’s not the kind of friend Dan is. Dan’ll take someone away to cool off, sprouting lines about being the bigger person, but Tom thinks that sometimes a punch is well earned.

Noah nods, sobering up, rating his arms on the table. “Yeah. It’s still. . . it’s still a trip nearly four years later.”

You cover his hand with yours, giving Noah’s hand a squeeze.

Now that they’re here with Noah, a burst of curiosity that’s been brewing in the back of Tom’s mind finally surges forward. “Do your eyes always glow? Or is it light a cat’s iridescence and that’s why you can read in the dark?”

“Gee, let me give you the paperwork the doctor diagnosed me with after I explained that my sister became a shadow monster and I came back to life. He was super nice and helpful about everything. We really don’t pay doctors enough.”

Andy rolls his eyes, “So are you still a monster or not.”

Noah frowns, before leading forward, gripping a glass of ice in hand pointedly, lifting it off the table, watching his own action with a sad fascination, “you can’t begin to imagine how nice it is to be solid again--to be more than a lingering ghost who can barely remember who it used to be.”

Which doesn’t answer the question but--

Some monsters were all too human for comfort. And some monstrous beings ended up friends and allies back in Pine Springs.

You and Dan walk up ahead arm in arm, chatting about everything from how cozy ll bean’s wool socks were to how you wanted to branch out and leave your job but it just couldn't be a bank, working in a cubical all day seemed like a death sentence. Dan fills you in on the news from back home and you both catch up as you walk at a leisurely pace back to your home.

Somehow, Noah manages to be patient as Tom rattles off question after question.

“Do you remember much?”

“What was it like coming back?”

“Can you do any magic thought,” he purses his lips in thought, “that doesn’t tell us much, since Ava’s out there levitating feathers.”

“Are any of your other senses better?”

“Do you have any other changes after coming back?”

“Can you speak to animals now?”

“Do you ever get a craving for human flesh?”

“Your limbs don’t fall off or anything? Right?”

“You have all your memories back?”

“Do you ever see any ghosts?”

“Can you see ghosts?”

Noah answers them patiently, if amused, as Andy skulks behind, clearly listening in on the conversation.

“How did they bring you back,” Tom finally asks, having spent countless nights researching necromancy. It had crept up in the Pine Spring’s society books, journals detail all sort of gorey accounts of their attempts to harness the power to gain power over the dead and living, but none of it had ever amounted to anything. At least in the best case.

One member had rotted away from the inside out, black mold blooming in his lungs, incurable as he choked to death after trying to raise a simple cat from the dead.

Noah tenses up, glancing over to where you’re laughing as Dan does a spot on Bernie impression about how it’s time to once again, “ask for a The man from U.N.C.L.E. sequel,” before meeting Tom’s gaze again. “You’ve formed a little club to keep the power away from people right?”

He nods, “I just-I don’t want more people to go through what we have,” he explains. They had to be proactive and learn so that no one else would stumble upon the power and exploit it to violent ends. Ava’s magic wasn’t derived from the power. Tom had double checked that. Ava’s magic was her own through her own sheer will.

But the power-that was something else entirely.

He swallows thickly.

Nothing had happened so far. And he couldn’t tell if their plan was working, or if they had gotten lucky. It had been a handful of years. But then, a decade had passed between Jane Marshall’s death and her awakening.

“And no one else ever will,” Noah says forlornly.

“Explain,” Andy says, walking up on Noah’s other side.

The man looks up at you, as you and Dan wait by the street corner for the rest of the group to catch up, and he shakes his head. “All you need to know is the power won’t be a problem again.”

Tom runs the problem over and over in his mind as they explore Vancouver and Andy continues to get digs in at Noah while Noah lets him.

He thinks about it as Andy makes everyone watch #Alive. And then Dan reminds them how obsessed everyone was with Inception when it came out. And Tom thinks about Noah’s words. And then you suggest watching something lighter: Zoolander.

Tom plays Noah’s words over in his head as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to Andy’s snores.

He puzzles over what Noah meant, why he didn’t want to bother you with it, as he drives back across the continent.

The power takes.

The power gives.

He gets it as they stop for gas in New York.

Oh, you really must love him.

Ava

Ava walks into Tom’s house out in Pine springs. It’s summer and she’s ready to spend the entire week swimming and continuing the search for a black lipstick that won’t stain. Fenty came pretty close.

There’s tons of cars in the driveway and she knows she’s the last one to get there; she always did like an entrance.

She tries the doorknob before knocking, hearing the laughter and conversation carry outside. The house is unlocked so she lets herself in; she likes to make entrances, guilty as charged, before following the sound of voices into the back porch overlooking the lake.

Tom had lucked out in buying this place during the summer the lady of the lake terrorized the town.

She’s frozen in shock when she sees Noah sitting with everyone like he hasn't been dead for over eight years. He’s sitting with an arm around you, beer in his other hand, talking with Lily, in a faded AC/DC shirt and dark jeans despite the heat.

Ava pinches herself to make sure she isn’t dreaming.

“Ava,” Lily cries, spotting her, “you’re here.”

“What the fuck!”

Realization dawns on your face as Noah looks over at the resident goth chick who’s withered into a refined goth woman, less fishnet and more victorian mourning shirts paired with flared black and white leggings, for the first time in eight years and seven months.

“Hey Ava,” he says, lifting his hand up in greeting from where it’s resting on your shoulder.

Your face heats up, as you look at Ava, realizing you’d never gotten around to telling her. Not when you’d visited her for Thanksgiving even though she refused to participate in a propaganda holiday that “perpetuates colonialism” or the time last year when you’d gone to support her big lecture at UMississipi. It had never seemed the right time and now the time to calmly explain was gone.

“Someone explain before I light him on fire,” Ava utters, feeling heat grow in her fingertips. It was easy after years of practice. She was toying with the idea of buying a house in Salem.

Noah doesn’t even flinch.

How could he, having grown up with Jane for a sister that had gone around filling people shoes with mud and shoving people into pools with a laugh. That girl had been fearless, and Ava has long thought if she’d been an inch more scared, you and Jane never would have gone into those ruins.

It almost warms Ava’s cold dead heart.

Ha.

If Ava had sometimes been the third wheel with you and Jane, then Noah had been the ugly duckling waiting for a scrap of attention because Jane shone bright, a sunflower soaking up light, thriving on attention. Maybe Noah hadn’t been all that bothered to let his sister take the lead as kids, even as he grumbled about the trouble they were sure to get into, but neither Marshall twin had cared about anyone’s attention more than yours.

Jane had always been a limpet, her hand in yours.

Ava had been too independent even at nine to always go along with Jane, or want a friend that close.

But you didn’t just go along with Jane, you encouraged her, and dragged Noah along when Jane got too caught up in her made up games to remember to play nice. Noah who even at nine seemed clued into the fact that you were hurt that your parents were never around, something that never occurred to Jane.

So she’s not surprised that Noah and you are a thing.

Figures.

You’d kissed more than one white boy that could vaguely pass for Noah if you had enough to drink in college even if you had only dated twice and neither had been Noah Marshall knockoffs.

It’s glaringly obvious in hindsight.

What she doesn’t get is how he’s alive.

And everyone’s just cool with it.

“I thought you already knew,” Dan says.

Lily looks at you, “didn’t you tell Ava first?”

You raise a brow, “I thought Lucas told everyone?”

Lucas shrugs, wearing a suit in the summer, “I did. I just figured Ava already knew”

Stacy sips her cocktail, “awkward.”

“Wow,” Noah jokes with a grin, “you guys are terrible friends.”

Andy almost chokes on his beer, sending Noah a look that would’ve made Medusa jealous.

Danni shakes her head, “too soon dude, too soon.”

Maybe she should move into Cora’s old house. That way she could keep up with her friends' news.

How the hell did she miss Noah coming back to life.

That was metal as fuck.

She and you would have words about keeping secrets.

“Just give me the strongest drink you can make,” she says with a shake of her head, taking a seat next to Imogen, the resident mixologist.

#noah marshall #ilitw noah #noah x mc #maybe theres two left #reposting bc it didnt show up in the tags #lily's part was my favorite #toeing the line between making noah a sarcastic shit and a traumatized man and a soft boy in love #mine

61 notes · View notes

zara2148 · 4 years

Text

Fethsteel Fic: Not Good Enough (For You)

So here we go, my take on how Fethry Duck joined F.O.W.L. and met Steelbeak. Less warning stuff for this one, mostly just implied abuse, though it’s clear Steelbeak has not had a pleasant history. Also, both he and Fethry have some self esteem issues... and there’s not exactly spoilers for “Lost Harp of Mervana,” but the new intro takes place right after it.

Also on AO3. Make sure leave kudos and comments there. I enjoy the feel of being applauded.

Huey was placing Isabella Finch's journal back in Uncle Scrooge's study when he spotted the tin can phone there, now connected to nothing. Scrooge held on to everything in the mansion, even seemingly useless things, on the grounds that it may one day come in handy again.

It was one reason why Trash Day could be such a nightmare, though Scrooge was starting to learn how to let things go...

Huey found Della and Donald unpacking their gear off the sub, hanging up suits and boxing equipment until it was ready to be used again. "Uncle Donald? Mom? Do you know how to get in touch with Cousin Fethry? I think he'd love to hear all about Mervana."

"No, sorry, sweetie. I haven't heard anything from him since he rode off on the back of that... giant... fish..." Della shuddered in remembered revulsion.

"Mom, it was a krill."

"A fish is still a fish by any other name."

"You also seemed fine with Mitzy at the time."

"I was too busy thinking about all the Moonlanders we had to beat up."

Donald sighed and turned away from a crate to answer Huey’s question. “I haven’t heard from him either since then.” He shrugged. "But that's normal for Fethry. He either calls every five minutes or he gets so wrapped up in something we don't hear from him for six months."

"Doesn't he have a cell phone we could call?”

"Knowing Fethry, it would just get dropped in the ocean." There was a reason Scrooge only trusted Fethry with a tin can after one too many busted phones.

Huey’s beak twisted in discomfort. “But what if he got in trouble? What if he needed our help?”

Donald let out a breath, more frustrated with himself than anyone else, even Fethry. He knelt in front of Huey and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Fethry is…” Cuckoo bananas really hadn’t been the right thing to say to Huey, not when Donald could see the similarities between the two of them. Unsure how else to finish that sentence, he tried again.

“Fethry is who he is. But he’s also a grown adult capable of making decisions and taking care of himself. If he ever needs us, he knows where we are.”

Della grinned proudly. “He’s a part of the Duck family. Surviving is what we do.”

Uncle Donald and Mom weren’t wrong about that. Cousin Fethry had survived alone in a collapsing sea base for years. He knew the Junior Woodchuck guidebook from cover to cover, just as Huey did. He was better prepared than most to face trouble when it found him.

"Okay, I'll just make sure to write down all my observations about Mervana to share with him when he gets in touch."

Donald gave Huey a smile. "I'm sure he'll love that."

***

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

It was an old refrain at this point.

The last job interview he had, Fethry had spent a full half-hour talking about the eating habits of krill and the merits of singing when asked about his team management skills.

The interview before that, he spoke briefly about the endless silence of the ocean when asked how he dealt with workplace difficulties. He’d been too quiet after that question.

And the interview before that… well, he didn’t think that room was ever going to be the same.

Fethry’s laptop was old. Wires were sticking out and duct tape was barely holding the screen together. He browsed through the listings for scientists on Quacked In, tweaking his cover letter and resume slightly for each.

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Maybe he should try for a slightly smaller position at a lab, like a custodian! He had experience keeping things in custody! And then he could work his way up from there.

But the little Donalds had such faith in him. They believed he could be a great scientist. Fethry wasn’t going to let them down. He never really realized until it was too late, but Fethry knew he had a habit of letting his family down.

Gladstone had offered to help, after that big event with purple people from the sky… ahh, yes, the invasion! But Fethry knew how often people tried to get close to his cousin to use his luck. Family shouldn’t do that.

The next listing didn’t quite catch his eye. But Fethry was at the point of applying for everything that came up for “scientist” and read through what little there was.

“WANTED: Skilled scientists for private company in Duckburg. Duties will vary. Flexible work schedule, late nights occasionally required. Must be able to roll with the punches.”

He had no expectations that it would progress to a job offer. How he chose to look at was that he was doing really well on reaching his goal of 100 job rejections. He’d read all about re-framing your objectives for positivity!

Once he reached 100, well, he might as well try for 200 rejections then.

He reviewed his resume and cover letter on the final submission screen. He clicked “Send.”

Then he moved onto the next listing and thought no more of it.

***

F.O.W.L.’s computer settings were extremely sensitized when it came to tracking the movements and activities of the Duck-McDuck clan. They knew when Hubert Duck received a new merit badge, or when Dewford Duck uploaded another video to his overlooked Insta, or when Llewellyn bought a soda that wasn’t Pep branded.

Any diversion from or progress in the Duck’s family’s normal routine could be significant. That’s why they monitored it all.

So when a member of the Duck family applied for one of their vacant positions, it got noticed. Alarms went off, alerting the highest-ranking members in F.O.W.L. command.

Just ten minutes after the application was received, Bradford clicked through it on his laptop.

F.O.W.L. could just ignore this. Stay away from the Duck family until they were more ready to move out in the open. It would be a sensible move.

But there was potential here he couldn’t overlook.

Fethry Duck was one of the harder members to track ever since the McDuck SubLab crumbled into an undersea abyss. Satellite images last had him riding some sort of kaiju across the ocean, which was just typical when it came to the Duck-McDuck family.

When the moon invaders came they had made many mistakes, such as caring more about the acknowledgment of their perceived superiority than how they could exploit the Earth. But they had been right that it was better to have all members of that family accounted for when it came to global-scale plans.

Having Fethry under constant watch at F.O.W.L. would leave Gladstone as the most transient variable. And the lottery winnings and sweepstakes prizes he left in his wake would make him infinitely easier to track.

Fethry was also one of the more controllable members of the Duck family. Neither misfortune nor ostentatious fortune dogged his steps. He didn’t question intention and he didn’t try to stir up trouble for his amusement. He was so lacking in ambition that he stayed in a lonely janitorial position for almost five years. If he was taken to a lab and given every reason to stay, he likely would do so without seeing anything amiss.

His goal was to steal the world right out from under Scrooge. Why not start by stealing a member of the man’s family? One Scrooge was unlikely to miss for quite some time, given his avoidance of Fethry’s company.

Yet for a duck who didn’t believe in handouts, it said something that Scrooge still cared enough about Fethry to give him a string of jobs that he more or less performed adequately. He’d prefer it not come to threats, especially since harm to his family made Scrooge predictably savage. But if worse came to worse… better to have a hostage than do without.

And if he was useless? Disposing of him would be no hardship.

He clicked “Accept” and composed a brief response, suggesting a range of times that Fethry could visit a front location in downtown Duckberg.

After opening up the email and reading through it, Fethry squealed and picked out the earliest possible time.

***

Fethry hummed as he walked inside the address the email gave him. It was a plain building, notable only for its pristine white exterior that seemed all too blank.

He’d dressed up nice for the occasion. His red jacket was replaced with a slightly frayed and browned business suit jacket. His tie was a piece of dried kelp that Mitzy had picked out for him. She always had the best eye when it came to kelp. And his cap was still present, keeping his thoughts toasty warm!

Yet his throat felt clogged and simultaneously too dry. The papers in his hand would be wrinkled if he clutched them any tighter. There was a heavy feeling in his chest that told him he’d be out of here soon enough, and he would need to try his luck elsewhere.

A duck with a dirty face and ruffled hair sat behind the visitor’s desk. Her name tag read “Ample.”

He approached her without his usual bounce. “Hello, I’m here for an interview.”

She nodded and glanced through the schedule. “Fethry Duck?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“The director is ready to see you now. Go through the double doors over there.”

He dipped forward in an awkward half-bow, unsure if a handshake would be too presumptuous. “Thank you!”

He pushed his way through the double doors. The room was in grey shadow, a large desk slightly off toward one of the corners. Two chairs were in front of the desk, facing the figure behind it.

The shadows slightly obscured the person behind the desk. He could make out a shape but no features.

The shadow turned to him. “Ah, thank you for coming. Please take a seat.”

Fethry grabbed one of the chairs, shifting his paper copy of his resume as he looked at his interviewer up close.

Oh, he knew this vulture! He worked with Uncle Scrooge before! His name was buzzing around in the back of Fethry’s skull, waiting to be grabbed hold of…. what was it, what was it…?

“Bradley!”

“It’s Bradford,” he corrected in a cold tone.

Fethry slumped back in his seat, feeling small. “O-oh, I’m sorry.”

Bradford did not take the time to acknowledge what he said. He sat “So, Fethry Duck. Scrooge’s nephew.”

“Yes.”

“You hold no degrees, no certifications that would qualify you for a scientific position.”

“... no.” Fethry knew how much those pieces of paper meant to people. He sunk into his chair, almost wishing it could swallow him up, the way the ocean did…

...and that was not a train of thought he needed to be boarding right now. Fethry stepped off a mental platform, letting it whiz by.

Bradford continued, neither noticing nor caring about Fethry’s inner world and its struggles. “And yet, you thought you could apply here, for a scientific position with us.” He stood up and started to circle around Fethry. “Do you know what we do here, Fethry?”

“Science?”

“Among other things.” Bradford paused behind Fethry. Fethry couldn’t quite bring himself to turn and look at him. “What we do here... let’s just say we're out to change the world.”

Bradford resumed his circle and came to a stop in front of Fethry. He let silence reign for a few seconds before speaking. “And Fethry Duck? We’re willing to give you the chance to join our ranks.”

Fethry had to swallow down dry disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Fethry’s hands were clammy as he held out his stacks of papers. His grip wasn’t shaking, but his limbs felt hollow. “You don’t even want to look at my resume first?”

“I’ve already seen it.”

He let his arms fall to his sides. His voice came out small, as if he was once again speaking from the bottom of the ocean. “Why me?”

Silence returned. Bradford considered him over his beak.

“You’re the unnoticed member of the Duck-McDuck family. Isn’t it time you had a chance to prove yourself?”

Bradford wasn’t wrong. He wanted that chance. But the implication that he was only getting this job because of his family...

Well. Wasn’t that how he got every job he ever had?

Bradford turned away from him and loomed his way back behind his desk. “Mind you, the job still isn’t much. You’ll be working in a lab on your own projects, yes. But you will remain under direct supervision for the time being. Before undertaking any venture, you are to submit a full report that outlines expected costs and outcomes, in accordance with our guidelines.”

He sat down, his back hunched to allow him to continue looming from a lower height. “The pay is minimum wage, but you can work your way up through experience. Food and board will be provided on-site, so that’s two fewer things you have to worry about.”

Fethry absent-mindedly fiddled with his kelp tie, his attention otherwise on Bradford as he continued.

“As you may have surmised, your work is to be considered top secret. For the time being, we will ask that you remain in the facilities to better learn your responsibilities. There is to be no contact with the outside world without prior approval. Otherwise, you put ourselves and the work we do at risk.”

“If you accept the job under these terms, a car will be dispatched to pick up you and any belongings you choose to bring tomorrow morning.” Bradford steepled his fingers and looked through Fethry. “Do you accept these conditions?”

Fethry had forgotten he hadn’t said yes to anything yet. He wasn’t sure how he got so caught up that he missed that.

He could bring his team with him, their jar was extremely portable. But taking this job would mean saying goodbye to Mitzy for a while… hopefully, she would understand.

He nodded, then said for emphasis, “Yes.”

“Well, then. Welcome, Fethry Duck, to…” Bradford paused again, his words trailing off into familiar silence. “... well, we’ll just call it your new place of work.”

***

There wasn’t a whole lot to do at their headquarters between missions. The funnest thing to do around here was to play all the arcade games after the kids had gone home for the day.

However, the last time Steelbeak did that he blew an entire paycheck and ended up with only 20 tickets to show for it—not even enough to trade-in for a piece of candy. That didn’t make him stupid, that made the games rigged.

Now he stuck to the actual secret parts of their secret lair, wandering the halls. His wallet stayed full and fat, but the time between missions dragged on and on.

The gun course was fun, but there was only so much offtime an agent was allowed there. Spend too much time shooting things and command would send you over to their quack shrink.

The rec room was okay, but he’d be fighting every off-duty Eggman there if he wanted to pick which channel to watch on the sole TV. Not that he wouldn’t win, but his time in the prison rec room, and the underground fighting ring’s rec room before that, taught him that victory wasn’t worth it if you couldn’t find any good shows playing.

Which is how he often ended up doing what he did right now, trailing after Heron down to the labs. He’d watch her and watch the other scientists, trying to see how what they did tied into F.O.W.L.’s big ol’ villain schemes.

Did he always understand what she was working on? No. Did she ever really try to explain it in an easily understood way? Also no. Did these trips to the labs often end with her metal hand clamped around his beak, hissing at him and calling him names? No, well, yes. Yes, it did.

… he was supposed to be going somewhere with this, but he wasn’t quite sure where. Wait, no, now he remembered.

If he wanted to someday be the one hatching the schemes, he should watch how others hatched theirs first. It was like watching the prizefighter in the ring to learn how to beat him. Some people would only hit you if you asked them for anything, so you had to watch how they did something instead.

Most of the other scientists ignored him, and he didn’t pay them much attention either. But today, a duck in a red hat waved at them as he and Heron stepped inside the lab.

“Oh, hello! I’m Fethry!” The lab coat he was wearing hung loosely on him, clearly meant for a slightly larger bird.

“O-kaaay...?” Why was he expected to care?

A grin was spreading across Heron’s face as she looked the duck up and down. Then she turned her gaze to Steelbeak as she gestured offhandedly at the duck. “Fethry is our new marine specialist. He’ll be working on some of our most important projects.”

Heron… sounded like she was trying to hold back a laugh. What, was this smart guy really good at the jokes? Or did he know a party trick or two?

And what kind of name was Fethry? Might as well have called him “Webby” since he had webbed feet.

“Say, Fethry?” He knew that tone of voice from Heron. He didn’t always know the details of what she was saying, but he knew the sweetly sharpened tone was meant to cut someone down to size.

He felt… lighter, watching that tone be aimed at someone who wasn’t him. Like he was actually in on the joke for once. He also felt the urge to move to safer ground.

Heron’s smile was wide as she continued. “Why don’t you explain to my partner, Steelbeak, what you’re working on? He loves to hear about scientific experiments in great detail. Especially if you use a lot of long words.”

Okay, maybe he was still part of the joke.

Fethry’s eyes widened—he didn’t even know it was possible for someone to widen their eyes like that until Fethry did. “I’d love to!”

“Great!” Heron said in a passable imitation of Fethry’s enthusiasm. Under her breath she added, “Maybe now I can get some real work done.”

Steelbeak’s jaw tightened as she walked away. He refocused his gaze on the red-capped duck, who was all but jumping in place.

A snort escaped him as he sat down at a table. At least if this pipsqueak tried to clamp his beak, he could just knock him into next week.

“So what are you working on?” This was still more exciting than watching the walls, after all.

Fethry laughed nervously. It had been a while since anyone paid him a significant amount of attention. “Well, at the moment I’m just filling out the request paperwork. But I’m hoping to start an experiment on delaying the eating habits of the crown of thorns starfish.”

“The what?”

“Crown of thorns starfish. It eats coral.”

“And that is?”

“Coral is like…” Fethry scratched his head. He could never remember all the big words like polyps, sessile, and Anthozoa when he needed to. “It’s like skeletons scattered across the seafloor that fish live in.”

“Really? So fish just decide to live in dead bodies.” Sounded fake, but at least it wasn’t boring.

“Well, coral is a skeleton, but it’s also alive. It’s really bad when they do die.”

“So the fish live in alive dead bodies.” This Fethry guy was talking an interesting sort of crazy.

“Skeletons, yes. Called coral. Only these sea stars eat the coral, so the fish have no place to live then.”

“Now, these sea stars start off eating algae. It’s been called the grass of the sea,” he explained before Steelbeak even had to ask. Fethry’s beak scrunched up. “Though I have to say, grass usually tastes much better.”

“How long it takes for the sea stars to go from algae to coral varies. And there’s a lot of these starfish in the ocean. If they made the switch all at once, they could do a lot of damage.”

Huh. For the guy’s first project, it had the makings of a decent scheme. “So… if you could figure out how to make them do it, you could have them eat the fish out of house and home?”

Fethry actually nodded at that. “Or if I could figure out a way to slow it down, I could buy time for the reefs to grow.”

“...huh.” He actually followed most of that. Sure in his mind, coral reefs had a lot more skulls than they normally did. But he got the gist of what Fethry was talking about.

Black Heron hummed as she worked without interruption. Fethry calculated the costs of feeding and housing a small colony of starfish, making sure to show his work. And Steelbeak imagined blackmailing a fishing village with an army of sea stars. Small potatoes when it came to true villainy, but everyone had to start somewhere.

***

It wasn’t one of Heron’s longer science sessions. She tapped at some keys, read some screens, fiddled with some gadgets, and was ready to leave in a couple of hours.

Fethry had remained in the lab, drawing up plans for a sea star’s dream home. They’d need plenty of walking room, he’d said, so he was drawing up little pathway designs. Including one for a yellow brick road.

He started to reach out a hand to Steelbeak… for what, Steelbeak wasn’t sure. His body tensed in defense.

And Fethry must have noticed because he let his hand drop to his side and just smiled instead. “Thanks for listening. I know I kind of ramble.”

Steelbeak waited a few seconds to be sure that Fethry wasn’t going to make any sudden moves. Then he gave a shrug and followed Heron out.

It hadn’t been a hardship. Listening to weird undersea stuff passed the time. It was like catching a documentary on TV, without the meatheads that would grab the remote from you and change the channel to something else.

Black Heron laughed at Fethry as soon as they left the lab. "That guy," was all she managed to say before chuckles overtook her.

Steelbeak scowled. “What? What did he say that was so funny?” Was he the butt of someone else’s joke again? He'd make him go splat, if so.

Heron regained control of herself, but she was still grinning. “He didn’t have to say anything. It’s comical that he’s even here.”

The scowl receded and his brows knit in confusion. “I don’t —”

“You don’t get it, I know. Lucky for you, I’m in a good enough mood to explain. He’s Scrooge McDuck’s nephew. You remember, the guy you were supposed to get out of the arcade?”

“The big guy who wrecked one of my suits?”

“Ugh, no! He was the one wearing a top hat.” A frown flitted across her face, but her good mood was quick to reassert itself. Past failure meant little in the face of such a hilarious triumph.

“He came to us, wanting a job. He has no idea that we’re F.O.W.L. and no idea that we’re working against everything his family stands for. We’re holding him hostage, and he has no clue.” Another peal of laughter escaped Heron.

Steelbeak let out a chuckle as well, now that he was finally in on the joke. "Ahh, I get it. Classic dum-dum. What kind of idiot doesn't know who they're working for?"

The grin on Heron’s face slipped slightly.

"This should go without saying, but I know you so I'll say it anyway. Do not tell Fethry any details of your work, your missions, what we do here. Nada. Nothing."

"Well, duh. I know that. That's why they're called secret missions."

"Steelbeak, I once saw you brag about being a secret agent at a bar to try and get a date."

"And why not! They were cute!"

“And you wonder why your recreational leave is so limited.”

“What?”

“I’m saying dumb boys don’t get a lot of outdoors time.”

“Hey!”

A smirk moved across her face before she continued. “The director wants him to remain utterly oblivious, so secrecy is of the utmost importance. He’s not going to be happy if we have to lock him up or kill him for knowing too much.”

Steelbeak did not reach for his beak. He did not feel the slight dents that remained from trying to punch his own mouth open. “And we’re not just locking him up now, why?”

“Because the Ducks are easiest to manage when they think a situation is within their control!” Her voice was raised as decades of thwarted ambitions seeped into her tone.

Steelbeak was unimpressed. He could get just as angry, and he hadn’t needed years to get to that point.

“And what if he does ask what I do here?”

“Why would he ask? You’re hardly about to engage him in some deep conversation, are you?”

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes for some reason. “Well, no, but…”

“Oh, for larceny’s sake. If it does come up and you can’t avoid answering the question, just make something up. You’re an agent, do some lying.”

“... yeah, of course. I can do that.”

***

It doesn’t really sink in until later that night, back in his room, how Fethry answered all his questions without calling him, “Stupid.”

#ducktales #fethsteel #fethry duck #cousin fethry #steelbeak

186 notes · View notes

ourimpavidheroine · 3 years

Text

Okay, @peoniequeen, here are your stories.

How many people do you know moved across the world for love?

Well, you all know about this one. I met my late wife online in late 1998 on an X-Files message board, we emailed and then called, etc. until she came to the U.S. from Finland in September of 1999 to live with me for a year. After the year was up we relocated to Finland, in part because she could not legally immigrate to the U.S. during that time as a same-sex partner (Finland was a huge fucking pain in the ass about it but eventually they let me immigrate there based on our relationship status) and in part because we thought Finland would be a better place to raise kids due to healthcare, schools, etc. When I arrived in Finland it was the first time I had even been to Europe, never mind the country I was going to live in and the airline accidently left my two dogs in Amsterdam instead of putting them on the plane to Helsinki and I spent my first moments in my new home sobbing about my dogs until the very nice airline lady called for my late wife over the loudspeaker and let her come back and take me in hand (much the way Mako takes Wu in hand, if you must know). (Don’t worry, the airline put us up in a hotel next to the airport and the dogs came on the next flight and came to us there in a taxi the airline made arrangements for. They were completely fine and in fact weren’t sure what the fuss was about.) It was kind of a big culture shock. The end.

Or worked as a college radio DJ?

I did! I had a show on Tuesday mornings from 4-6 am that nobody listened to but about 10 loyal people. (Kind of like my blog here, come to think about it.) I played a lot of old blues and jazz stuff that I’d grown up listening to. My Dad worked part time as a DJ at a local radio station so I knew how to work all the equipment and such thanks to him. (I also had a two hour slot on Wednesday nights there in high school where I played stuff teenagers wanted to listen to and not the never ending country western that the station owner and manager wanted played 24x7.) Yes, this was in the late 80′s-early 90′s when I was at university so it was all vinyl. I still have a collection of albums that have the gold stamp on them saying they are not for sale, that they are for radio station play only! (Some of them the aforementioned station manager gave me since they were not country and he was basically going to toss them into the trash and some of them were albums that I might have gotten through less altruistic means.)

Or was a makeup assistant to Drag Queens?

I took a stage makeup course while I was majoring in theater at University and did so well with it that the guy who gave the class asked me to come and assist him at the San Francisco opera while they were essentially painting all of the singers brown in a classic racist move that was pretty well accepted in the 90′s but, thankfully, would be extremely frowned upon now. As I was doing it I struck up a friendship with one of the chorus tenors; it turned out he was a drag queen who sometimes did performances when he wasn’t doing opera. He was a Madonna impersonator (not a very good one, sorry to say) and he wanted me to help him design his makeup for it. So I went to the club he performed at a few times to get a better feel for how drag queens worked and then hung around backstage and ended up doing some designs for some of the other queens. The pay was basically me getting to see their performances for free and getting fed afterwards at whatever was open at 4 am but God it was fun. Also, now I am the most Judgy McJudgerson of ever when it comes to drag makeup on RuPaul’s Drag Race. The end.

Or wrote a letter to their Archbishop when they were twelve and got a personal answer in return?

I was very put out by the fact that boys could be altar boys but girls got shit (I was Catholic, in case you haven’t guessed) and I was talking about it to my Grandma one time and she told me I should write a letter to the Archbishop and ask him why. Now see, my maternal Grandmother was married to a labor union president (my grandfather was still the president when he died of a heart attack when I was 8) and she was a good old fashioned liberal rabble rouser. Like, she got arrested with nuns protesting nuclear power plants in her muumuus and Birkenstocks, okay? She wrote letters to EVERYONE. So I sat down and very carefully wrote the letter and my Grandma made a few calls and got me the address and we sent the letter. I don’t think my Grandma actually thought I’d get a letter back (it was more of a teaching moment, if that makes sense) but he did send me a letter back! He was very kind, although his answer was the usual Catholic BS. I still have the letter but it is packed away in storage so I very sadly will not be producing it at this juncture in time.

Or drove from Los Angeles to Philadelphia in a 20 year old Volvo?

My friend from university was going to Grad School at Temple University and her parents didn’t want her to drive the entire way by herself. So I drove with her in an orange 1971 Volvo sedan. (In fact, I drove about 90% of the trip because she didn’t like driving.) The air conditioning fan died as we were driving through the Mojave Desert on the way to Vegas and I realized that if I floored it the cool air would actually move itself and so I floored it all the way through the desert and we are lucky that fucking ancient hulk of Swedish steel did not die and leave us stranded to be baked to death. We stopped in Vegas (which was not as impressive in 1992 as it is today, trust me) and found a guy who could actually fix the fan and spent the night in one of the casino hotels before continuing on. We did stop in Chicago to stay with her grandparents for two weeks (where so many elderly Jews kept responding to my last name with confusion as they assumed I was Jewish that I eventually started to do genealogy and found out that I am, indeed, Jewish on my father’s side) and also we saw the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer film in Des Moines and went to a cowboy bar in Cheyenne (I learned how to line dance and my friend got completely trashed and I had to practically carry her back to the hotel) and many other adventures until we finally arrived in Philly and her parents flew me back to California. It was a great road trip and short of the reeeaaaally sketchy and filthy motel room in Salt Lake City that had both a half-empty Chinese takeout box and a soiled condom under the bed we had a grand time.

Or was part of a thruple?

I have been part of two thruples. Well. Sort of. One thruple and one wanna be thruple. The first one, with my first husband and my girlfriend was a huge mistake from the get-go. (Oh god, she was so hot and the sex was so fucking good but she was really an awful person and my ex kept trying to control the entire thing and basically forced her into living with us instead of being just my girlfriend with benefits and the entire thing blew up and while it wasn’t the reason why I divorced him it didn’t help either.) The second one was with my late wife and our mutual boyfriend and it worked very well but he had a little boy from a former relationship and his son got very ill and died and he didn’t handle it at all and he disappeared out of our lives. It’s been 20 years, give or take, since I’ve talked to him. He asked us to no longer contact him and I’ve always respected that. And before you ask, he knows where I live and my email address is the same as it was all those years ago. If he wanted to find me it would be very easy for him to do so. He clearly doesn’t and I respect that. I wish him love and peace, wherever he is. I miss him still.

Or beat up the drunk lady in the hallway to get back a little girl’s keys?

Ah, I’ll tell this one tomorrow.

#impavid storytime #long post #do you guys really find these interesting?#I'm not fishing for compliments #I honestly never think of myself as being that exciting

12 notes · View notes

tomsandal · 3 years

Text

A Cup to go

a/n: brought to you by me asking what should i write and Pap answering "coffee shop au or whatever people write about these days"

characters: červená kapota, tom sandál, leva p. pneumatika (background), tobi polobotka (background)

warnings: none

words: 4,6k

The Luxorn cup

Part of the Artanar sterling silver tea and coffee set, originally belonging to a bygone Liechtenstein royal family and currently one of the most expensive antiques in the world. And that is for a good reason. The set is decorated with accents of gold and embellished with an array of rubies, garnets and red opals, with a large fire opal as its centrepiece.

All of that makes it shiny enough to make any respected lawbreaker want to get their hands on it.

It comes as a surprise then, that this piece of treasure is not sought after very much. That is, because it just so happened, that many years back this set was being transported across the pacific to a highly acclaimed auction when it mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again in the light of day.

That is, until now.

Word has been going around the streets of a certain long lost cup set piece. A hint here, a suggestion there and suddenly there is even a rumoured location. Location in the shape of a very unassuming coffee shop.

In front of which stood a certain red-clad thief.

Červená Kapota scanned the storefront of the shop from the other side of the street. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The outlet was painted in cheerful pastel colours with their display boards full of saccharine sweet words written in excessive loops and currently accomodating a fair share of customers inside. She got to give it to them, if this all truly is just a front for a criminal organisation, then they did a mighty fine job with it. What a cheeky plan though, simply hide a cup in a coffee shop and everyone is none the wiser. Well, except her obviously.

That's why she is here in the first place.

A week ago she applied for a job there, with a plan to assimilate with the staff and find out where the famed teaware was hiding and swoop it right under their noses. Easy job, just in and out, a deserved rest after her painstaking previous venture. So she didn’t need to worry about ruining her current streak of successful heists.

And luck seemed to be on her side.

Earlier that day Kapota received an email from the store owner, informing her that her application was accepted and to show up to the interview at -about now- o’clock, actually. She looked up from her watch and with a last glance at their display windows, she made her way inside.

The door opened with a cute little jingle and the heavy coffee aroma hit her right in the nose. Disoriented for a second, she quickly surveyed the place before proceeding to the counter with confident steps. Once there, an employee with a high ponytail and cherry drop earrings looked up at her and fixed her with a trained smile.

“Hello and Welcome dear, you are here for the interview, right?” the barista addressed her cheerfully.

“That would be me, yes”

“Good, good. Your resume passed with flying colours and the manager will see you now.”

Of course it did, I am no amateur after all. This will be a piece of cake.

“Now if you would please follow me to the backroom, the other person is already there so yall can get right to it”

...

The what

Before Kapota had any time to voice her confusion, the aforementioned barista led her to the back of the shop, knocked on a door at the very end of the hallway, gave her a reassuring smile and left her to her own devices.

Upon hearing “Enter.” from the other side, she took a deep breath and opened the door, peering inside.

The manager sat behind a desk with two other seats in front of him.

The one on the right was empty. But the one on the left was already occupied.

Said occupant was sitting back leisurely with one hand hanging over the backrest and a head full of loud purple hair.

oh...

oh no.

Kapota cursed inwardly when the person turned around, and it did in fact turn out to be the very same guy she was expecting, coincidentally also the actual last person she would want to see right now at this very moment in this very office.

Once he turned around and took a look at her, his face turned to a brief expression of surprise but he shook it off quickly and in its place was a beaming smug grin that could be mistaken for a friendly smile by anyone else, but she knew better.

“You!” she growled and pointed at him accusatory.

“Hii Red” he simply shot back with a wink.

The audacity. What a no-good, infuriating, pompous peac-

“Ah miss Redd! Come, come. Take a seat please.” interrupted the manager, quite rudely, her train of thoughts.

“So..” he continued as she sat down, “I take it that you two have met before, is that right”

Her workmate turned his attention back to said man and with his million-dollar smile, he answered “Oh! yeah, yeah, we go way back, chums pretty much”

“Just coworkers,” she shot back.

“professional associates☆”

“acquaintances at best.”

“You wound me”

“Good.”

“ow-” “-So as I see it,” interfered the manager (yet once again), “this situation turned out as well as it could have! Since it seems that both of you are acquainted with each other already, there won't be any reason for any petty rivalry out there.” they glanced at each other, wearing the same expression, “because, you see, well we, unfortunately, have only one spot on the staff free. And you might be wondering, what now? There is two of you. Well, both of you will simply go out there and will show us if you got what it takes and I’ll pick who will be staying at the end of your shifts”

when neither of them said anything he just shooed them away with his hands and finished with “that would be all thank you, ask Marcy to give you your uniforms and run-down of the place.”

As they were getting up, she looked back at her involuntarily gained companion and suppressed a sigh. It's not that she disliked the guy that much, but with the nuisance incarnate Tom himself here, there wasn’t a single chance of this going according to plan.

///

So far so good, thought a certain Tom Sandál to himself, while picking scattered porcelain shards from the floor.

It’s already been an hour since he has been reassigned to a server instead of a barista and this is only the first cup he broke! Going strong here!

When they started their shifts, he was the one they picked first to go work behind the counter, which they regretted soon enough and pulled him from there. Yeah so he may or may not know actual nothing on how to make a decent cup of coffee or operate any of their machinery but he tried his best, and it's not like Kap lasted in that position that much longer than him when they put her there to replace him. Admittedly she actually took to it a bit better than him and managed to make it work for her, which comes as a surprise in all regards since he was pretty sure that she didn’t like coffee one bit. Suspicious.

Speaking of suspicious, he’s also pretty sure she tried to poison him twice at least in her reign behind the counter, which yes, justified, but still.

He was being a cheek and ordered a cup for himself since there weren’t many people in and there wasn’t much to do. When he got his cup, instead of the typical caramelized nutty smell of a coffee there was something he couldn't quite place but very much out of place and on top of that there was a cream poured art in the shape of a skull in the foam. When he looked back at her with a quirked eyebrow in a silent question she just smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

Never has he been this torn in making a decision. Prove a point or stay unpoisoned, choices, choices.

He didn’t dare drink it in the end.

But it was close.

The second time he did it, because yes of course he pulled it twice, he - definitely intentionally and according to plan not just a mistake thankyou- switched orders around and his poisoned cup of coffee ended up with a customer.

After that Kapota has been stripped of her coffee-making privileges and demoted to a server. So now they are both on the same playing field, only needing to look out for nudges from the other one when they are balancing a particularly high stack of tableware.

Tom finished sweeping all the stray bits of porcelain from the floor and dumped them in a bin.

A Job well done, I deserve a cookie.

And with that, he in fact pulled out a cookie from the front pocket of his apron.

Tobi swinged by the shop earlier to drop off his lunch, and also to make fun of him, but they also brought the said cookies so all is forgiven.

Munching on a cookie, he turned to the task at hand and got back to picking up cups and plates from empty seats.

When he was at his third table, with a decently sized cup tower in hands, something behind him caught his attention. Turning slightly, he saw his ol pal Kap standing over a table next to a seated customer with wavy dirty blond hair and a kind smile. The surprising part was that they seemed to be in the middle of a civil conversation.

“Well I be damned” he murmured to himself and leaned towards them.

Kapota of all people being able to make friends that fast? He was almost proud. Unless of course, it i-

/crash/

...

Aaaand that makes it a cup number two.

///

“I don't know… just give me the speciality of the house”

“Leva please I've literally worked here for two hours just pick”

///

Getting inside the head office and swiping classified documents unnoticed has been laughably easy.

When no one was looking, Kapota sneaked off to the backrooms and after confirming that the air was clear, slipped inside the now empty manager's office. With the soft click of closing doors behind her, she quickly scanned the room to see what she could work with. A computer, a corkboard, a card file cabinet and a large painting. Knowing that she was on borrowed time, she quickly proceeded with the task at hand. First, she inspected the corkboard, since it was closest to the door. A quick inspection showed that this was a dead-end, nothing more than useless paper junk and employees of the month, as she partly expected. On the other hand, the computer being also a dead end was a surprise. She searched through it back and forth and yet there was nothing relating to the cup or any nefarious activities, to be frank, there was hardly anything on the computer in general. Not good. Next, she probed the painting, an abstract piece with a decorated frame, hopefully hiding anything of use behind it. She gently lifted it off the wall and to her growing disappointment found only a bare wall hiding behind it. She took a peek at the back of the canvas, hoping to find at least some helpful note tucked to the frame, but all that was there was scribbled “dedicated to S.M., who wont pick up my calls”. She frowned and put the painting back a bit crooked.

“Looks like we’ll have to do this the old fashion way”, she said to herself as she made her way towards the card file cabinet and cracked her knuckles.

Bills, order lists, inventory stocktaking, employee files, folders upon folders of junk. Not looking good so far. She kept thumbing through the folders some more when finally a word caught her attention. “Combination safe”. The document itself was quite chaotic and all over the place, but Kapota gathered the meaning of it loud and clear. There was a safe somewhere in the building, with the combination to it scribbled charitably at the bottom of the page. Not only that, but it wasn’t just any safe that would hold the company’s earnings or anything. No, this was apparently the manager's own personal secret safe. That was about to swiftly change, sharing is caring after all.

She stashed all the folders back and turned to leave the place with her newfound goal. Though when she was across the office something made her scramble in place and dive under the desk. Something that was very unmistakenly footstep sounding, which was confirmed by the creak of the door seconds later.

Glueing herself to the inside of the desk, she held her breath and willed the person to just turn around and leave. This was far from the first time she was in a situation like this but it was nerve-wracking all the same. Few tense moments passed by and the person finally moved towards the desk.

I am a shadow the shadow is me you don't see me you cant see me you wont-

The person sat a paper cup upon the desk and promptly left.

Few more moments passed until the footsteps fully faded and Kapota finally let out the breath she was holding and quickly made her escape from the office.

///

The place consisted of the main room, with a second story of sorts that overlooked the bottom floor, an adjacent kitchen and back hallways that led to the aforementioned office, storeroom and a door to the back alley.

The main room and kitchen were currently a no-go. Can’t snoop around if everyone is pestering you to work and questioning everything you do. The second story was just filled with plants and didn’t offer any seatings for customers so it should be devoid of anyone, but you could also see there from the main room, so snooping there right now is risque as well. So that left Kapota with the office, storeroom, hallways and the back alley for all she knows.

Since the office was already checked, she proceeded to go through the storeroom next but came out empty-handed as well.

So now she was crawling along a wall in the middle of a hallway, prodding the wall for any secrets, step after step.

/knock knock/

Not here.

/knock knock/

Not here.

/knock kn-/

“I didn’t expect this place to have a boogeymen problem when I applied, they should probably do something about that before things get out of hands”

She didn't even look back, she knew perfectly who that was.

“Don’t you have tea to serve or something”

“I'm pretty sure its coffee and same goes to you”,

“Cool, cool”, she pinched the bridge of her nose “but we can’t both be missing, so go back or you’ll blow my cover.”

“Good”

what a prick.

She decided to not grace him with a response and just went back to her wall scrutiny.

She only managed to cover a few more meters of the hallway before Tom broke the silence again.

“So... why are you creeping in the shadows in the first place”

Now she looked back at him with a smile.

“Let’s just say that the higher-ups have been liberated of a certain safe intel”, she responded lightly before turning back to the wall.

Behind her echoed a commending whistle accompanied by “As expected of the resident sneakster” and then the hallway was filled with the sounds of her work yet once again.

/knock knock/

“It's just a shame that my sources say something different”

/knock/

...

“Sources?”

“Oh you know...” he drawled with an audible grin “just chit chat here chit chat there with my dear coworkers, really bonded ykno”

“What, How did you make them trust you and spill so quickly, we haven’t been here longer than a few hours.”

“You’d be surprised what people will tell you for a cookie ;]”

Kapota, now fully facing Tom, just blinked for a few moments before gathering her thoughts.

“So hypothetically if i handed you a metaphorical cookie at this very moment could you disclose with me what this great source of yours said.”

“Well then hypothetically, I heard through the grapevine that mr bossman is quite particular about his flowers. Everyone says they look very fake up close but weirdly enough, everyone is also strictly forbidden from touching them or moving them even a centimeter from their spot, lest they wilt”, he finished with a dramatic sigh, before switching his expression to a mischievous smirk and continuing, “So of course i am currently on my way to dig through the dirt and see if there are hidden goodies”

Kapota thought about it for a while, it was very far-fetched, but not implausible. But it still didn’t fully add up and left loose ends…

“Alright flowerboy, but then explain why there were documents talking about spicy little secret safe that the manager is keeping to himself.”

Few beats of silence passed between them before they both exclaimed at the same time.

“The safe is hidden by a flowerpot!”

They were both wearing matching grins, which upon realization promptly morphed into matching glares.

What now.

...

“Alright thanks for the company, but it's time for you to return to the floor now. scram”, Kapota started pointedly and shooed him away with her hands.

“As if!” shot Tom right back. “You wouldn’t even know where to go if it weren’t for me.”

“First of all, I would get there eventually! And secondly, we can’t both disappear from our shifts, people will get suspicious and we will get easily spotted!”

“Well I’m going now and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“But I was here first!”

“I didn’t ask!!”

They held each other's glares. No one was blinking.

“Listen...” began Tom cautiously. “This is getting us nowhere, how about we decide the old fashion way”

Kapota squinted at him as he proceeded to rummage through his pockets and made a small sound of realization when he held out a small coin for her to see.

“A coin flip”

“Exactly”

“I swear Sandals if you say something like ‘tails i go get the loot, heads you go back serving’ i swear i will-”

“Nononon non ok nothing like that I swear just tails you get to go, heads i get to go?”

“... In that case that we could do yeah”

“Nice, nice, so can we blink now?”

“I suppose so”

“Neato”, the staring ended with that and Tom brought his free hand to his eyes.

“I have one condition for it though”, continued Kapota as she rubbed her sore eyes as well.

“I don't want your “showman hands” anywhere near that flip, so no catching or hand slapping and possible rigging of yours will be going on.”

“Fair I suppose, so I just flip it and let it clatter to the ground you say?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of me doing the coin catching.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright then floor shall be our judge”

And with that the deciding flip was flipped, the metal gleamed in the shabby ceiling light and filled the whole hallway with anticipation.

As if in slow motion it turned

once

twice

thrice

and then it swiftly fell down and right in the gap between floor panels and clattered to a layer underneath them.

No one moved.

…

“I don’t think I have another coin”, piped quietly Tom.

“The floor is our judge”

“pardon?”

“The floor is our judge.”, repeated Kapota, now a bit more loudly. “We have to find out what the judgement is.”

“What does that, huh? So we are going to tear the floor apart to see what it landed on, or?”

“Yes.”

“...well, lets get to work then, shall we”

///

For anyone wondering, it takes one broken floor plank and a baffled employee to be demoted to a floor sweeper.

///

“That could have gone better”, murmured Tom to himself.

He and his floor vandalizing accomplice were currently stashed in the back of the main room with brooms in hands. Far enough to not be in the way but close enough to be watched over.

Thankfully they weren’t immediately thrown out when they were ungracefully caught with bits of flooring in their hands. He managed to, fortunately, swiftly sweet talk them out of their predicament so now they weren’t personnel suspicious of criminal activity but just two idiot clowns. And while yes, not being thrown out or arrested was sweet indeed, this outcome was not that ideal either. But what's done is done.

So Tom just leaned back against the wall and lamented.

“All that work and we haven’t even found out who won in the end.”

He would have continued to wail some more but a swift bonk to the head from his partner in crime stopped his next lament and instead he just let out a hiss of pain. He looked at her questioningly, because what was that for, but he only received a nod and tipping of her broom (that had been used for the bonkage moment prior) towards the dustpan in his hand. Upon further inspection, it turned out that his wall leaning, while effective for dramatic effect, also tipped over his dustpan and now most of it was back on the floor.

“Ay ay kaptn’ im I am on it Im on it..”, he muttered as he crouched down. “You could have informed me a bit more gently though. I will have a bruise for sure and we’re stuck here for a little while longer and you’re not exactly the one I would want to kiss it better” He dodged from her range with a cackle as she raised the broom threateningly once more.

They continued to sweep peacefully, each in their little corner.

“So… buddy..”

A humm of acknowledgement.

“What do you think are the odds of us being able to scamper off to grab the goods”

To that Kapota chuckled and responded with a small smile. “I think we have better chances of getting promoted than them letting us go anywhere out of their sight”

“drat”

“I second that”

Kapota then proceeded to lean on her broom tiredly.

Not the best of napping places, thought Tom to himself. He should probably be a good friend and provide her with somewhere more comfortable to rest. Like, the floor, for example. And by ‘provide’ meaning deliver a swift kick to her broom as a payback for the bonk. But he decided to be the bigger man and opted to not go through with it and let her be.

For about ten seconds.

///

So this was it.

They were seated again in the bossman’s office just like the many hours before that, except now they were waiting for the big reveal. Which one of them will get the spot and with that a chance to try again the next day. He wasn't delusional and knew neither he or Kap made a great first impression, but now it all comes to who was more of a disaster. He hadn’t looked to his right, but knew his competition next to him was as tense as he.

The manager finally decided to speak.

“Well, how do I put this.” Doesn’t matter, just put it out somehow please. “You have both shown that you are very passionate and prepared to put your all into this and I must commend you for that. But the thing is. Well… after a long evaluation, um I have decided that unfortunately neither of you get the job”. He paused for a short moment before briskly continuing so they couldn't get their two cents in. “It wasn’t an easy decision”, he coughed slightly, “but some, hm, alarming factors pushed me to make this decision. Thank you for your time, it was lovely having you here but I would kindly request of you to take your leave now. Have a pleasant rest of your day.”

///

Tom climbed the last few stairs leading to his door and with a jingle of keys promptly entered inside.

“heeyo I’m home”, he called as he closed the door behind him. In response, he got a muffled “Welcome home” from the kitchen and soft pitter-patter of little feet. Soon enough accompanying the patters was a grey cat-shaped furball striding towards him. He picked up said fuzz and nuzzled it in greeting.

“Hewwo Bean did’cha miss me little buddy?” cooed Tom at the cat which bapped him swiftly in the nose as a response.

“That is not his name and you know it.”, replied a scolding voice from the kitchen.

Tom just laughed and made his way to his dearest with a purring bundle of fluff in his arms. Tobi was standing at the counter, donned in a green sweater and hair in a bun, seemingly finishing putting away whatever it was they were using beforehand. Tom hopped onto the counter next to them.

“I won’t get a hewwo?”, they said over their shoulder.

“in this economy? We’re all out, sorry”

Tobi just smiled and after putting away the last glass they turned to Tom and put their arms around him and mr. Socks and planted a little kiss on their boyfriend’s brow.

“Care for a cup of coffee after a long day?”, they inquired mischievously.

“Don’t ask me anything like that in the next few months and I might find some leftover hewwo stock somewhere.”

Tobi chuckled and murmured in his hair “How generous. Should I put the kettle on instead? Care for a spot of tea perhaps. ”

“That would be absolutely perfect thank uu”

Tom might not have gotten his hands on the famed Luxorn cup, but a cup of tea from his partner seemed even better at the moment.

///

Kapota was standing at the doorstep to her apartment building, wanting to savour the pleasant crisp air for a while longer before going inside. She got here only now, even though she got kicked out of the coffee shop a few hours prior already, but Leva brought her along to their little personal pity party of sorts, to cheer her up. And don’t take her wrong, she had fun and was actually feeling better even though the plan was a bust, because Leva just had that effect on people, but she was exhausted and looking forward to going home and crashing down. So with a last deep breath, she entered the building and began her climb up the many stairs.

After her conquer of the staircase she unlocked her door and entered the comfortable familiarity of her apartment.

“Hey everyone I’m home.”, she called and back replied bubbling water and an oxygen pump whirring.

She put away her coat and shoes and made her way toward her fish tank, grabbing a box of fish food on her way there. She then proceeded to greet all of her bushnosed babeis. All very beautiful. Very powerful.

Once they were all accounted for and fed, Kapota all but fell to her armchair next to the fish tank. Letting out a content sigh, she burrowed down in the soft plush and relaxed. This was fine. This was nice.

She could hardly even remember what she was so bummed out about.

Oh yeah wait. Stupid gaudy cup. Who needs it anyway? She has plenty of cups right here.

So who cares that the heist was unsuccessful, at least she messed up Tom’s plans as well so he’s gone home empty-handed with her, and that's in her books just as much of a success as actually getting the prize.

And with that, she drifted off.

#2.5 bc #2.5 bc but with more words #remembered that i should put this here as well :)#fanfic #anywe pap if youre seeing this and the animatic is not posted yet wait few more minutes #coffee shop au #červená kapota #tom sandál

1 note · View note

hoodharlow · 4 years

Text

All I Ever Wanted // Dad!Cal

This was supposed to be 8 pages of fluff, but my hoeass turned to smut towards the end lol

Summary: Elena and Cal make baby Hood during the No Shame Tour, fast-forward to 7 years and they’re co-parenting goals. Now Ben and Cal have some feelings about Elena going on a date.

===

"Papi, doesn't mum look pretty?" Ben, my 6 year old son, asked me when he came in. Elena, his mum, followed closely behind him. I took her in. As always, she looks beautiful even with the frown she has on right now.

"Yes, but she always looks beautiful." I pointed it out to him.

"I know, but today she put shiny stuff in her eyes." Elena rolled her eyes at his comment. We both watch him chase after Duke.

He’s an exact copy of the both of us. Coincidentally we both have brown skin and dark curls, so there’s no telling which one he got his curls and brown skin from. Though he got his mum’s bright honey eyes while he got my smile according to Elena.

Elena and I met about seven years ago, during the No Shame Tour. Elena was our main photographer during the North America leg because Andy was working with another band for those months. We became good friends instantly, always hanging out after shows and exploring the cities we went to. Though one drunken night deep in Don Julio led to Ben.

Outside of the tour time, Elena was a photographer for fashion magazines based here in LA and sometimes she would travel around the world, but she mostly stayed here which came in handy with Ben. I had met her when she did our shoot for Paper Magazine. Management liked the pictures, so they hired her a few weeks later.

"Hey, I know today's not your day, but Lupe kept insisting that I meet up with her coworker." She said annoyed. SHe handed me over Ben’s backpack.

Lupe was Elena’s longest friend. They’ve known each other since middle school and got really close during high school, mainly during their junior year. I’m not sure why, but she always gave off a different vibe. When she found out about Elena’s preganancy, she was quick to suggest to have an abortion. Which surprised both of us because she is very conservative. Nonetheless she came around to support us, but I still don’t like her.

"If you're saying it in that tone why even go?" I asked.

"I just want to get it over with. Plus, I haven't gone on a date since Benja. You've been to a few. What should I expect?"

"No clue. I haven't gone on a date in a long time. Usually just a hookup every now and then."

"Shit, I haven't had sex since we made Benja, and I don't even remember it." She sighed.

"All you need to know is that it was good enough that we made Ben." I smirked. I don't remember much either other than a lot of giggling on her behalf.

Before Elena could make one of her usual remarks, her phone rang. "Hey... No!... I'm gonna meet him at the bar… Yeah, bye."

"You good?"

"Lupe wanted to give Kevin my address because he wanted to be a gentleman and give me a ride. She should know better than to give a complete stranger my address." She mumbled. "Okay Uber will be here in 10."

"You're not driving your car?"

"Not in the mood. Do you mind me leaving it here? I'll get it when I pick up Benja tomorrow."

"It's fine."

"Oh, Benja's teacher sent back his homework packet because he didn't do any of the math section. El cabrón had the audacity to tell me not to check it because you checked it."

"He told me the same thing."

"He gets that from you." We both said at the same time.

Elena rolls her eyes at me. "Nah, he gets that from you. How do you think we made him?”

“Well, Elena, when a man and a woman really love each other, or in our case are a bottle deep in Don Julio, they do this thing called-”

“I know how sex works, menso. So what are you doing while I’m out?”

“BOYS NIGHT!” Benja chanted as he came back running with Duke on his tail. Whenever Ben comes over, Duke has the same energy from when he was a puppy. They both dive into my couch. It takes Duke a few tries before landing on the couch.

“What he said, but in reality we’re probably going to make some pizza and watch Spider-Man until he passes out.” I shrugged.

“That sounds so much better than my date. Make sure he actually does his homework before y’all do any of that.” She glances down to her phone. “I gotta go. Benja, ya me voy. Te portas bien. Don’t forget to put some of the peanut butter pretzels in your backpack.” She walked over the couch.

“Mum, stay with me and papi. We’re making pizza with mushes and piña.” Ben pulled Elena to him.

“Ben, she’ll be back later, we can save her a slice.” I said.

“No! I want her to stay!” He tightened his grip on Elena when she tried to get up.

“Benja, nomás es un ratito. Pinky.” She said, holding out her pinky. Ben hesitated, but intertwined his pinky with hers. He walked away from us without saying goodbye to Elena. Duke trailed behind him. Elena frowned as she walked him away. He’s never like this to either

“I’ll talk to him. Please text me when you get there and when you leave.” I told her.

“You got it. Love you, bye.”

“Love you.” She waved as she walked over to the car. I wait until she’s safely in the car before closing the gate.

Fifteen minutes later, Elena texts me that she made it there alive and that she’s waiting for the guy to get there. Ben was in his room coloring, but I managed to get him to come downstairs to finish his math homework while I made the dough for the pizza.

“Okay, I have 15 pretzels and gave papi 3,” Benja put three in his mouth.

“Oi, those were mine.” I said.

He giggled in response before going back to his work, “and I give mum 6,” he said putting those 6 in a baggie. “Now I have... 6.” He scribbled on the paper. Benja furrows his eyebrows just like Elena does when she’s writing or working on her papers.

“Papi, if you love mum, why aren’t you married to her?” He looked up from his packet.

“What?”

“I heard her tell you when she left. You said it back. Why don’t you just marry her? Why can’t we be family?”

“We are a family.”

“But families live in one house.” He countered.

“There’s different types of families, Ben.”

“But I want you and mum to be together. Maybe if you asked her to dinner we would be a family.” He began to tear up.

“Hey, what’s the ma-”I began. Where on earth did he get that idea?

“It’s all your fault! Mum is going to find another family and we won’t be with her. She’s going to stop loving us.” He sobbed. I walked over and pulled him in my arms.

I held him there until he calmed down. Ben has never reacted like this. He’s usually a happy and energetic kid. If he’s ever upset about something he’d tell us. He’s never even had a tantrum.

“You okay?” I quietly asked him after he calmed down.

“Yeah.” He said, putting a pretzel in his mouth.

“Can we talk or do you want to wait until your mum gets home?”

“Is she really going to come back?” He mumbled.

“Of course she is. You know she can’t live without her Hood boys. She loves us too much.” I told him.

“And Duke?”

“And Duke.” I repeated. “Finish up your homework, so you can help me decorate the pizzas.”

“Va.”

Some time passed, and Ben finished all his missing homework, and we had the pizzas in the oven. He had gone upstairs to his room with Duke when we put the pizzas in the oven. I go to his room to check in on him, and he’s fast asleep with Duke curled up next to him. A small picture frame on his shelf catches my eye. It was the three of us with Snoopy when we went to Knott’s Berry Farm for Ben’s 5th birthday. Elena and Ben ate an obscene amount of Dippin’ Dots and carne asada fries.

Spending the day with the both of them made me realize how much in love I am with Elena. How I never want to be apart from her and Ben. I want us to be family, as Ben says. I’ve tried telling her how I feel, but it never feels like the right time.

I set the picture down, and walked back to the kitchen. I turned off the oven and picked up my phone. I wanted to look over work emails. The boys and I have been working on a new album. When I turned on the screen, I had 3 missed calls. 1 from Elena and the others were from an unknown number. Panic passed through my bones. I was going to call back when my phone rang again.

“‘Llo?” I answered.

“Hey Cal, can you pick me up?” Elena’s voice spoke on the other end. Her voice is quieter than usual, anxious even.

“Of course. Where are you?”

“La Paloma, it’s about fifteen minutes from you. We ate here once and Luke got hella diarrhea from the enchiladas.”

“I know where it’s at. We’ll be there in a bit” I said. I quickly ran back upstairs to Ben’s room. “Hey Ben, we have to pick up your mum.”

“Did she get sick? Like when she eats Taco Bell.” I carried him down. I didn’t even wait for him to fully wake up. I grabbed his iPad from the couch.

“No, but she just needs us to pick her up.” I settled him in his seat.

In a matter of minutes we were on the main road. I looked back at Ben, and he was watching Spider-Man on his iPad. On many occasions he’s let us know that he liked the animated Spider-Man more than the other versions because Spider-man spoke Spanish like him.

I parked the car in the back of the restaurant, thankful that there weren’t any paps. The last thing I want Elena to worry about is for some weirdos trying to take her pictures or Ben’s. Ben took off running to Elena when we saw her.

“Mum, papi said you needed a ride. Was it because you need to poop like when we eat Taco Bell?” He asked her.

“What?” She giggled. She turned to look at me, I simply shrugged. The things this kid comes up with.

“You ready?” I asked her.

“Yeah, let me just… I’ll be right back.” She turned back and walked to the bar. She talks to a woman, points at us. The woman nodded and bid her goodbye.

Elena came back. I carried Ben in one of my arm while I led Elena to the car. On the ride home, she quietly listened to Ben as he told her about how he finished his homework and the pizza we made. When we got home, Ben ran to the TV and put the movie on where he left off on his iPad. Elena followed me to the kitchen, and set her things on the counter.

"Can I stay the night?" she asked.

"You know you’re more than welcome to. Want me to get you something to change out of?”

"Yes, please."

"Hey bud, I'm going to help your mum with something. I'll be down in a bit." I turned to Ben

"Okay." He said not looking back to us.

I lead her up to my room. She discarded her heels and jacket before she got on the bed. I quietly picked a zip-up hoodie and some sweatpants that I accidentally shrunk in the dryer for her. I heard her quietly cry. I sat down next to her.

"Hey, you-" I began.

She wrapped her arms around me and began to cry. Her breathing shook as she did. I held her the same way I held Ben earlier. A few minutes later passed, and she calmed down a bit.

“Are you okay?” I finally said.

“Yeah, I just realized some things and I got really emotional. Sorry you had to see me like that.” she sniffled embarrassed. I reached over for the tissue box on my nightstand and handed it to her.

“Elena, I’ve seen you poop, pretty sure we’re passed me seeing you cry.” I said jokingly. Her nose scrunched up in disgust at my comment.

“I was giving birth to our son, fuck outta here.” She said, giving me a soft smile. She reached for my hand and gave me a gentle squeeze.

After a few minutes she spoke up again, “Can we talk about this later?”

“Of course. ‘M gonna check on Ben and heat up the pizza.” I squeezed her hand before leaving.

Downstairs, Ben was on the breakfast table. Duke was on another chair watching him. Since he had his back to me, I couldn’t see what he was doing. Duke noticed me first. He got down from his chair and waddled over to me. I scooped him up in my arms.

“Papi, you think mum’s gonna like her card?” Ben asked, holding up the paper.

The paper was baby blue with a drawing of the three of us with a blob in the corner that I’m assuming is Duke. He opened it and there’s a small letter on the right side. He pushed himself away from the table and followed me to the kitchen. The Oreo jar was on the floor, opened, next to the step stool. Ben’s eyes quickly looked over to it, but looked back at me waiting for my response.

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know. Wanna sign my card?”

“Pass it over.” Ben handed it folded, so I couldn’t read what he wrote. I quickly wrote in a message for her. I handed it back to him.

“Are we finally having pizza? I’m hungry.” He said dramatically leaning against a stool.

“Those Oreos didn’t fill you up?” I quirked an eyebrow up.

“Duke ate those.” He said quickly, obviously it was him.

“¿Por qué lo dejaste? Now we have to take him to the hospital to get him checked out porque le hacen daño.They’re gonna cut his pansa open and he’ll be in the hospital for days to make sure they got all the Oreos out. If they didn’t, they’ll cut him open again. Y más va a durar.” Elena said. She leaned against the counter, making Ben jump.

“No! I ate them. See- AH” he opened his mouth showing us his chocolate mouth.

“Ay, cochino.” She smiled. Her eyes glanced down to the card. “What’s this?”

“I made you a card. Papi signed it too. Duke was going to, but he wouldn’t let me stamp his paw.” He explained. I went back to heating up our pizza.I grabbed a beer for myself and a Jarritos bottle for Elena and Ben since Elena isn’t much of a beer fan.

“I love it.” She said after reading it, tears filled up her eyes. Ben cautiously walked over to her.

“Do you love it enough that you will stay with me and papi?” He asked. She looked over to me. I signaled to her that we’ll talk about it later.

“I’m not going anywhere. I love you and papi.” She pulled him into her arms.

“Y Duke?”

“También, I love both of my Hood boys.” She promised, her eyes never leaving mine.

❉❉❉

After the dinner the three of us watched Thor Ragnarok, Elena’s favorite Marvel movie. Ben didn’t even make it to the scene where the Hulk turned back to Bruce. After the movie ended, I quickly put him to bed and came back to Elena putting away dishes.

“I’m such an idiot.” She said leaning against the sink.

“Why’s that?” I walked over to her.

“The whole date I spent trying to convince myself that it was what I needed. Yet all I can think about is how I rather be at home with you and Benja making pizza than be at dinner with some hot doctor. That all I ever wanted was here at home.” She said playing with the zip of my hoodie.

“Well, Ben is going to be happy to hear that.”

"Was Benja really that upset that I left?” Elena asked

“Yeah, he blamed me. Said that if I asked you out for dinner, you wouldn’t be going out to dinner with some bloke.”

“He kinda has a point though.” She mumbled.

“What do you mean?” I looked at her like she grew a second head.

“It’s painfully obvious the extent of my feelings for you. Y yo como pendeja always wondering why you never asked me out on a date.”

“We’ve gone on plenty of dates.”

“No, we haven’t. It’s a quick dinner where we talk about Benja so we can sort out our calendars. You never explicitly said, ‘Hey, Elena, wanna go on a date?’” Damn, she’s got me there.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

“Why didn’t you?” She smiled.

“We’re both idiots.”

“Yes we are, and I really need you to kiss me because I’m about to jump you.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

I cupped her face and pulled her lips to mine. That first kiss is what we needed. I pushed her up onto the edge of the sink. She wrapped her legs around me and slowly grinded on me, making me grow harder. I gripped her hips, keeping them from moving. If she kept doing that, I’m pretty sure I would have come.

“Cal,” She moaned when I pulled away.

“I love you Elena.” I confessed before descending down her jaw to her neck. I kissed everywhere trying to find her sweet spot. I heard her quietly gasp when I lightly bit below her ear where her neck and jaw met. I bit her more roughly earning a moan from her.

“I-fuck, Cal.” she moaned out. Good enough for me, I told myself.

I unzipped my hoodie and slowly removed it from her, letting it fall on the floor. Of course she would wear nothing under it. She pushed up my shirt signaling me to take it off. We stared at each other waiting for the other to make the next move.

“Bedroom?” I asked. She nodded, hopping off the sink. We raced each other up to my bedroom. The second I closed my door, Elena gracefully began pulling off her sweats and panties. I followed suit, tripping over my sweatpants, I barely landed next to her. I pushed her down and hovered over her. Our lips meeting once again. I felt her smile against my lips.

I pulled away, making her whine, but I quickly shut her up, and kissed down her body. I spread her legs open. I placed her legs on my shoulders. I looked up to her. I have never seen such a pretty sight. I slowly licked her, my eyes never leaving hers as I did. She moaned loudly throwing her back in pleasure. I have never been more thankful that Ben is the world’s heaviest sleeper.

I let my mouth get lost in her. I barely felt her hand on my head, clutching onto anything. I slipped in both my ring and middle finger inside her as I continued tasting her. Soon after, Elena came undone. I got back to her level.

“I love you.” She panted.

“Only because I made you come.” I said sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. She pushed herself down, but I quickly stopped her. “Not gonna last if you do that.” I admitted shyly.

“Only wanted to return the favor.” She said straddling my hips. I gave them a quick squeeze. She leaned down to rest on me.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to do something in return.” I quickly added.

“So what you’re telling me is that you don’t want me to suck your dick.” She teased. I shook my head. “Suit yourself.”

I shifted us around, so I was now on top. Elena wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed me. We continued kissing each other touching each other until neither one of us could handle it. I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed a condom.

“Need help with that?” Elena teased, gesturing to my shaking hands as I tried to put on the condom.

“Shut up.”

I managed to secure it on me. I slowly pushed myself into her. Her nails dug into me. I waited a bit before continuing. I slowly began thrusting into her. I kept going at that pace, earning a moan from Elena. “Fuck, Cal, you feel so good.” She said, I increased my pace going a bit more rough. I rubbed down on her as I pounded into her.

I’m not sure how, but Elena managed to push me around, making herself be on top. She leaned down and kissed me. She grabbed me and slowly sank down on me. Once she got used to me, she increased her pace.

“Look so good riding me.” I groaned. I couldn’t help myself and started to buck my hips meeting hers. I sat up capturing her lips once more. I felt her tightened around me.

“Cal-”

“I know, I got you.” I told her. I was relieved because I wasn’t sure how long I was gonna last. After a bit, Elena came undone. I covered her screams as I kept going until I came.

“Elena” I moaned in her ear.

I felt myself come all over the condom. After catching my breath, I pulled out of her. I walked to the bathroom disposing of the condom in the bin. I grabbed a hand towel wetting it with warm water and cleaned myself off. I grabbed another for Elena. I walked back to bed. Elena was asleep.

“Hey,” I patted her bum, “gotta get you cleaned up.”

“No.”

“Elena.”

“Fine.”

She got up taking the towel. She walked in the bathroom. Minutes later she comes out. She picks up my shirt and slips it on before getting in bed.

“You ruined my sleep.” She pouted moving around so she could look at me.

“Well, I’m sorry.” I pushed back her hair.

She rested her head on my chest, draping her arm around me. "Can we stay like this for a bit?"

"I would stay like this forever." I admitted. I played with the ends of her hair.

"We can't though. Benja has a game tomorrow." She pointed out.

“Is that lady that looks at us weird because we wear Doc Martens going to be there?”

“She kinda has to, her kid is one of the strikers.”

"I still can't believe they didn't make Ben a striker. He's striker material."

"He likes being goalie."

"He doesn't do anything."

"Exactly." Elena said, trying not to laugh.

#dad!calum #calum hood imagine #calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood smut #dad!cal

219 notes · View notes