#(they're worried. and very tired. and on the verge of tears. completely out of their comfort zone.

[ndostairlyrium]

La Marzia 🩵

[imzsuzsis-blog]

"On the one hand, thank God I'm not a vampire, but many people tend to look at me like that, and on the other hand, how could I do this? Especially in the sprint, I went from first to sixth, and in the third place, I gave my father and mother the time trial for the race, and I finished fourth." I sat with tears in my face next to Loki and Oscar, as Oscar asked himself that he is neither Osc nor Oscah, and both are funny nicknames, not only in my opinion, but also according to his fans and Lilly, and yes, it was the girl's idea to kiss me in Australia. "Don't worry, Lando, we will almost start next to each other in the race tomorrow." "Bass Oscar, I'm starting next to Nando, which is a big problem since Melbourne, he's been doing quite the devil, I think he's the devil himself on the track." "Honey, you don't call anyone Satan because your friend's car overturned in front of him and he told you that the problem was with the pedals, and then he confessed everything." I looked at Loki, my palm swung, but he caught me and started to squeeze my wrist, he moved closer to me and our foreheads touched, he looked at me with his beautiful blue eyes, but I started to panic again because I'm pregnant, I'm taking a weaker medicine for my panic disorder and my panic attacks just got thicker and they hit me even in my dreams.

,,Look here Lando deep air one more. Trust your team-mate, you're starting from a good place, fourth place is a very good starting place, you even beat the Ferraris, which is a big deal, not to mention the Mercedes, they're all behind you." I felt his trembling palms on the back of my neck, he was very panicked, this was the point where I picked him up at the bend of his knees because he was getting worse and worse. At first I went slowly with him because I had no idea where the ambulances were stationed around the track. "Loki is there, I'll rush there for a moment." Oscar pointed to an ambulance and actually ran to it. Until then, Lando was either so tired in my hands that he was on the verge of fainting or because of a panic attack. "They said with a translator that we should find our car and follow them to the hospital and tell them what's wrong." "But you also know that you suffer from panic attacks and now take weaker medicine." "I know, but they were fucking idiots. I told them that he had a panic disorder. They didn't believe me, nor did they believe that he was taking medication. Lando, no problem, we're here, please don't pass out, we'll get to the hospital soon." He helped Lando into the back seat of the car, or he was almost completely passed out, and as we put him in, he passed out, we only heard the thump and saw that he passed out in the car. "I know, fetus, etc... But fuck it, it's a lot of fainting, well, we'll get home, I'll take two damned times because of it and I'll ask for another one, it's not well, it's constantly having seizures, it's not a condition."

"What, what the hell happened children and what is this flashing light in front of us and where are we going?" I blinked sleepily next to Oscar and didn't understand what this noise and flashing light was suddenly shining in my eyes. "You fainted and now we're going to the infirmary just to be safe." "Hospital, I understand, but where is Loki?" I looked in his direction, then out the window when I saw that the ambulance and the police were around our car and that they were laying him on a stretcher with a neck brace, I covered my mouth and started sobbing. "We had an accident????? Why didn't you tell me????? Huh????”

I was in the bathroom and I was standing in front of the mirror and holding the back of my neck, how could I dream this shit up? Yesterday, Lando woke up sobbing that he was an evil vampire, and now that I am a bad boyfriend and only cause him panic attacks. Yes, I know, almost on the second date, he told me that he has a panic disorder. Now take three kinds of medicated drugs for him. So far he hasn't had any panic attacks since Melbourne. He also knocks it down. "Am I your bad will Loki?" He came to me in a pajama top, he had a cute little dog on him, he couldn't take the bottom part of it in any way, the period of not coming to me is already starting and my dear is only 10 weeks pregnant. "Lando, I had a fucking dream too, you know, I wouldn't go through it if I didn't go through what happened there." He came to me and hugged me from behind, smiling. "You're thinking about the vampire, that's why I'm here again, this shit really upsets me, I can't sleep because of it." I looked at him, he's telling the truth, we have to go to the heart of a dream to put an end to this, this is not a state.

[taechaos]

Little Secret

pairing: step-dad!Jungkook x fem!Reader

synopsis: From a fun celebration to not getting to the bathroom on time, you pee yourself in the middle of the living room and your step-dad has to take care of you.

warnings: smut, pseudo-incest, urine, fingering in tub, dubcon

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is the disgusting fic i was talking about 🥰 not proofread, just smth i wrote in one day for fun. enjoy as long as u dont hate piss lol 😔👍

It's a night of celebration—the end of high school. It's the best celebration yet because you, after surviving hell of twelve years, are at the legal age to drink in a bar with your friends; the best night you can recall in your drunken state. Dancing, singing karaoke, giggling: pure joy.

So why are you crying while stumbling around in the living room? You sob and hiccup with a hand over your face and the other holding the couch for support. It has never been so difficult to stand straight, and you're thankful your mother's sleep is so heavy that she wouldn't wake up from your wails. 

But your step-dad's sleep is as light as a cat's, and you don't hear his heavy footsteps or grumbles as he climbs down the stairs. He rubs the sleep away from his eyes and they widen the moment they lay on you. He's about to call your name until his eyes trail down to the dark patch on your jeans. He doesn't need to ask why you're crying so loudly; it's easy to tell you're under the influence, and well, it apparently makes you very emotional since you're so upset about peeing your pants. 

But you're not exactly doing anything about it.

"Oh, it's okay," Jungkook coos and walks over to you to bring you into a light hug. 

You snuggle your face into his loose white shirt and sniffle. "I didn't– I didn't mean to," you snivel. "I-I couldn't get to the," you inhale shakily, "b-bathroom on time."

"That's okay," he runs his fingers through your hair soothingly, equally disheveled as his. "Don't cry, sweetheart. It happens; it's not a big deal. We'll get you cleaned up."

"I-I ruined it!"

"The washing machine—"

"No," you whimper pathetically, "it's ruined. My denim—" your head rolls back along with your eyes to the back of your skull. You go limp for a few seconds, and Jungkook holds you tightly. Just as he's about to ask you if you're alright, you continue, "the denim is forever ruined!"

Stepping away from his clutches, you rub your palms against the knees of your jeans and then the damp crotch area. The crotch and knees feel different; it makes your face scrunch up in sorrow. "Never the same," you exhale in a trembling voice.

Jungkook watches you in surprise and amusement. You tend to be closed off around him, well in the past year that he's been married to your mother at least. It makes him feel guilty to like you better drunk—extroverted.

"We'll get you new jeans then," he tries to comfort, but you only shake your head. 

"Feel it."

He sighs with a breathy chuckle and feels your jeans as you asked. He touches your pockets and then your crotch, practically cupping your heat. It's still warm with your urine and you pout at the look he gives you. You misinterpret it as disappointment, but it's a look of suppressing laughter. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. I'll wash it, okay? Your mother won't know."

You scoff and wipe your tears away. "Thank you. I-I'm very sorry, so sorry."

"Don't be. Let's go to your room," he slings his arm around your shoulder and walks you upstairs. You hold onto his waist and keep your gaze downcast. 

Your hiccups don't cease when you face the door of your bedroom. He twists the doorknob and lets you enter first. With puckered lips and tear stains on your face, you wait for him to come after you. He does, and then turns away from you. "Hand your jeans over to me, okay? I won't look."

He hears you shuffling behind him, and you don't take long to place the tainted pants in his waiting open palm. Your feet don't stay planted on the floor and you eventually land on your bed. The bathroom is right behind you, but you can't muster the energy to sit up nor open your eyes. "My underwear," you mumble with the side of your face squished against the sheets. 

At your indirect request, he cranes his neck and takes a peek at you. You're lying on your stomach and his eyes unintentionally travel to your ass. For being your step-dad, he thinks it to be okay for him to drink in this erotic sight. It isn't as if he's about to take advantage of a drunk girl, no less his step-daughter.

"You can't take them off?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head.

He blows out a deep breath and stands before your feet. The sight of your wet panties isn't meant to be attractive, but it does get his stomach in knots. He grabs the edges of your underwear and asks you to lift your hips, which you do sluggishly. They're off within seconds and he picks up your jeans from the floor before aiming to exit. He has to get out and cleanse his mind of all his filthy thoughts from seeing your bare pussy two inches from his mouth. "Don't fall asleep before taking a shower first," he reminds with flushed cheeks and pushes the door open.

"Help me," you whine childishly before he can leave. 

He sighs your name as if exhausted—reluctant.

"Please!"

As if it's not bad enough that he got a small glimpse of your pussy, now you're asking him to give you a shower while completely naked. He's trying to be respectful by keeping his focal point at bay, but your ass is still hanging out while you're on the verge of a tantrum.

"Oh God," he mutters to himself and pinches the bridge of his nose. He gives in.

After throwing your dirty clothes in the washing machine downstairs, he returns quickly so he doesn't catch you fast asleep. Thankfully you're still awake, but not so alert.

He warns you to keep your eyes open while he fills the tub in your bathroom. There's a water bottle on your bedside table, which he tells you to drink lots from until he's back. He throws in a pink bath bomb sitting on the edge of your tub so you can hopefully relax. Never has he seen someone be in such a childlike headspace after drinking.

But childlike doesn't fit the current scenario when he's lying under your naked body in his boxers in the bathtub because you seem to be a lot clingier when drunk. You don't move a lot, which is a plus, but your butt is pressed against his crotch, which doesn't make the situation any better. 

"I'm sorry," you slur sleepily, "I really didn't mean to." He can pick up the strong scent of vodka lingering around you better in this position.

He tightens his arms around your shoulders with his hands clasped above your chest as he whispers, "Don't apologize, sweetheart. You won't remember this when you wake up, and I'll keep it a secret. Don't you worry about a thing."

"Why are you crying?" he asks softly when you start to sob again. It's a dry cry, and he's certain you don't know what you're doing yourself at this point.

"I can't do anything," you complain, "I'm so tired and-and I can't move."

He stays silent so you can comfortably babble on and on about nothing until you say, "Wash me. Please."

Jungkook lightly pecks your neck and eyes your tits before dipping his hands in the warm, pinkish water and scrubbing your shoulders. You sigh at his gentle touch, prompting him to switch to your knees. "My knees are not dirty," you grumble incoherently.

"Hm? You're not dirty?"

"I'm not dirty there."

"And you're dirty where?" He's teasing you, knowing exactly where you want to be cleaned, but that'd further agonize him with how little freedom his erection has under the tight restraints of his briefs. It wouldn't be appropriate of him to use you to get rid of it, but is it against the law to simply bathe you?

"Down," you vaguely murmur.

He can't see anything of your lower region from the courtesy of the blanket of colorful hue that the bath bomb transitioned to, which both annoys and relieves Jungkook. But his hand only listens to you as it trails down to your pelvis. "Here?"

You nod against his shoulder, and that's all the confirmation he needs to palm your vulva. You gasp and slightly jump before adjusting to the feeling of his hand. The adjustment proves to be futile when a small moan slips past your lips at his fingers grazing your labia. 

“You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” you breathe with a shake of your head. “I want to be clean, otherwise no sleep.”

“That’s right,” he chuckles and starts running his fingers down your folds. Stopping at your clit, he starts to circle the hood to thoroughly give you the cleaning you desire so much. It isn’t with any ill intentions that he gently cups your pussy and moves it up and down while you squeak out moans without shame. After a few rubs and touches, he's confident there is no more remaints of your drunk mistake. “You’re clean now, love. Want to go to bed?”

“I’m not,” you whine loudly and hold his wrist to keep his hand in place. “I’m not clean,” you cry out and he knows you’re going to start sobbing again, which you do—except your volume might risk waking your mother.

He tries to hush you, but you don’t stop with the crocodile tears. “Baby, baby, look at me,” he pulls your face by your chin, but you escape his grip easily and continue with your tantrum. “I won’t clean you if you don’t look at me.”

With your newfound defiant attitude, it's with a few huffs and puffs that you finally face him and he silences your sniveling with a press of his lips. It's not a kiss in his defence; neither of you are moving your mouths, which he appreciates now that you've gone quiet.

Now that the risk of your mother waking is taken care of, his hand is on your hidden heat again. At this point, it's easy to tell you're not worried about being clean anymore. You aren't sleepy, though you keep your eyes closed from being in this intimate proximity with Jungkook, you're in need of a climax. It's a shame that he's in a similar state as you, but if you're drunk to the point of asking your step-dad to touch you, it wouldn't be clever of him to ask you to return the favor.

Despite his clear lack of vision, Jungkook is a human anatomy professor and he finds your clit and squeezes it between two fingers easily, not to mention he's already experienced in the sex field. Your lips part into a whine and he opens his mouth to swallow your sounds as he slowly rubs your clit.

You lean into the—now labelled as—kiss needily, and he lowers his hand to poke at your entrance with his middle finger. He stupidly peeks an eye open to see if he's located it correctly, but your subtle thrust is approval enough. He cautiously shoves it inside your tightness and uses his palm to continue pleasuring your sensitive nub, grabbing your tit with his other hand to play with your nipple. 

"Oh God, hmmm," you moan against his lips and sloppily make out with him, smearing your slick saliva all over. He hums into you, unbothered by your raw affection as he thrusts his finger inside and pinches your nipple to get you to cum faster. He can't have you sobering up any time soon.

"Are you close, love?"

You murmur something in response, but it's not intelligible enough for him to understand, so he assumes you're at least getting somewhere. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, his palm against your clitoris; massages your boob more roughly and moves his mouth down to kiss your neck. As he's giving you a small love bite, your breathing turns into mere gasps with little broken moans. If he could, he would add a second finger to your pussy, but your clenching hole doesn't feel so ready when he curls his knuckle. 

You clutch onto his hair, chanting, "I'm gonna pee again, I'm gonna pee again…" 

"Try to hold it in, baby," he cuts in hoarsely without ceasing his movements. He does slow down when your legs start to shake and tremble, splashing the water as you do as he leaves calming pecks on your neck, collarbone, and a few on your lips. Not as a warning to lower your voice—your last moans are ones to savour—but to ride out your high. He has no idea if you did squirt in the tub, but he isn't going to take another shower to wash it down. He wants to feel it on his skin.

He can feel your pounding heartbeat under his hand as your body spasms and grinds on his erection. A moment of silence passes with your shaky inhales and exhales while he pets your hair. 

When he feels you calm down, he asks, "Do you feel clean now?"

"Bed."

"Alright," he whispers and kisses your cheek. Your eyes are closed and he predicts you'll be fainting soon, so he pulls the plug with ease and waits for the water to drain before pulling you up by your pits. It's a bit of a struggle because of your slippery wet skin, as well as the water weight on you, but manages to get you out and immediately throws you on the bed. He grabs a towel hanging on the bathroom door and dries you before himself.

Jungkook considers himself an honorable man most of the time, but he can't refrain from jerking off to your naked body while you doze off. Like he said, you won't remember a thing, so it'll be his little secret as he releases on your tits with a groan. He wipes off the evidence of his unorthodox actions, pecks you and your pretty little pussy before dressing you in your pajamas. 

He puts on his clothes and tucks you in before leaving your room with a quiet, "Good night, sweetheart."

All there's left to do is persuade you into doing this again while sober, because he didn't marry your wretched bitch of a mother after two months of meeting if not to have you all for himself. He doesn't mind letting you in on that one secret with time.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

*****************

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

******************

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Behind Closed Doors

Keanu Reeves x OFC (A/n- I hate these moodboards sm)

Masterlist. Behind Closed Doors Masterlist

Warnings- Angst, medical emergency, sexual tension

Chapter 3 Taking Blame

One month later After they'd gotten engaged, Keanu had been politely adamant in insisting that Miranda get to know Matt and Poppy better; take them out, spend time with them after their tutors left for the day and drive them to swim and ballet occasionally. As expected, she'd been reluctant, and even when Miranda did begrudgingly agree, Emma had been asked, or rather persistently urged, to join her. Of course, Miranda had dismissed Keanu when he protested that the entire purpose of her taking them was to spend time with the twins alone, arguing insistently that it was Emma's job to take care of them.

That had been nearly a month ago, and after one trip to the mall, two swim meets, three weekly ballet practices, spent with Emma trailing three paces behind Miranda, holding the children's hands along with whatever bags they had, Miranda had finally agreed to watch the children on her own and Keanu had let Emma have some time off.

Using her time liberally, Emma had gone to lunch with a couple old college friends, and then for a few drinks after. It was past seven when she finally returned, and from the minute she walked through the side door from Keanu's huge garage, the strong aroma of baked goods washed her senses, peaking Emma's curiosity, drawing her towards the kitchen. She didn't think Zelda had stayed that late.

Much to her surprise though, it wasn't the older woman in the kitchen, instead, it was Miranda standing amid the mess, a tray of grayish brownish cookies laid out on the the breakfast bar, dressed casually in white lounge pants and loose lace blouse, some of her hair pined away from her face. Surrounding the tray, was an assortment of ingredients, most of them looking like they'd been bought at a high end organic food shop. "Miranda?" Emma said slowly, beckoning the older woman's attention.

"Emily!" She spun on the absent heel of her ballet pump, and Emma gnawed on her lip to quell her annoyance. It was still extremely irritating when Miranda got her name wrong, but she'd given up on correcting her, deciding that she was more than likely doing it on purpose. "You're home, finally. Zora left….." she trailed off, waving her hand dismissively, "Some time ago, but thankfully you're here to clean up. Try one, they're peanut butter cookies. Totally organic," she shoved the tray closer to Emma.

"Okay," she cringed, wondering how bad organic desserts could be. She'd heard the stories, how they tasted like cardboard, grass and other things that most people wouldn't readily put in their mouths. Miranda stared at her intently, clearly waiting for Emma to take a bite and so, deciding that a cardboard cookie might be easier to endure than her boss's fiancée whining, she nibbled to the edge, just enough to get a taste. Eyes widening in surprise, she went in for a bigger bite, humming at the surprisingly good taste, "This is actually……"

"It's good right? Apparently Keanu thinks you baking is the gold standard or whatever," and once again, Emma wasn't sure if Miranda's compliment was actually a compliment.

Stammering, she just nodded, "It is good, you made them for the kids, do they like them?"

"Mhm!" With a triumphant grin, Miranda started walking out of the kitchen, reaching the mouth of the hall, "They’re in the playroom, and since you're here you can take over now!"

Not even bothering to respond, Emma just shook her head, shrugging off her leather jacket, draping it over a chair at the kitchen table, knowing the sooner she got to work, the better. The first thing she did was start clearing the remaining ingredients from the counter, barely glancing at names and labels until something caught her eye, "Miranda!" Emma yelled, panicked, not caring how upset she'd get, "Miranda!"

Seconds later, she came hustling into the room, muttering about how rude and incompetent hired help could be. "What do you want now?" She spoke through gritted teeth.

"Did you put this in the cookies?" Hastily, she held up a bag half filled with wheat flour, the plastic packing clutched tightly in her fist. Her heart was probably beating a mile as Emma anticipated a response.

"Yeah," Miranda scrunched her nose, still upset by Emma's scolding tone, "So what, it's good-"

"Didn't you read the list?" Already she was dropping the flour, not caring if it spilled, making a bigger mess than before, lunging for her handbag and rummaging for her keys, "Matty, Pop!"

"What list?"

"The fucking allergy list!" Emma sneered, too jolted to stop and worry about Mirada's precious feelings, "It's right there on the fridge,” she pointed hurriedly, and just as she was about to call for the kids again, Matt came running into the room, his face pulled with fright.

“Emma!” He ran past Miranda and straight for her, grabbing her thigh to get Emma's attention, “Come quick, something’s wrong with Poppy! She started coughing and-” He was on the verge of tears and there was an anxious bounce in his stance.

“Hey, sweetie, it’s okay,” Emma quickly kissed his hair, standing again to go get Poppy, “Everything’s gonna be okay, but I need you to be a big boy and wait by the car for me,” after that mishap, there was absolutely no way in hell that Emma was leaving Matt alone with Miranda, not when she was pretty sure she had a case of anaphylaxis on her hands, “I’m gonna go get Pop, okay?”

Nodding he ran off, and Emma went in the other direction, choking a sob when she reached the playroom, finding Poppy on the floor, gasping for breath, angry red patches on her skin. Without thinking twice, her instincts took over and she scooped the girl up in her arms, laying her head on her shoulder. Cradling Poppy’s head, she ran out to the garage, almost slipping on the tiles in the process, “It’s gonna be okay baby, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, okay?” Tears were hot on her cheeks, but Emma knew that she had other things to worry about, her own emotions could be seen to after.

“What should I do?” Miranda came to stand beside her, wringing her hands as Emma got Matt into the car seat. “I swear I didn’t know that she was allergic-”

“Look I don’t have time for this,” not even realizing that she wasn’t wearing a jacket, Emma was already in the driver’s seat, getting the posh SUV started. Ideally, she should have taken Miranda with her to keep a check on Poppy while they drove to the nearest hospital, but she couldn’t bring herself to deal with the woman while she was also trying to keep Matt calm and his sister alive. Not without starting a fight at least. “Just call Keanu, lock up the house and then meet us at the hospital.”

The automatic door started reeling upwards, and Emma was backing out, “Are you sure I can’t-”

“You’ve done enough Miranda,” She backed out, “We’ll be at L.A General,” and with that, Emma backed into the street, shifting gears and then speeding off, hoping that she’d get to the E.R before it was too late.

Curled up next to Emma in the pale green sofa of the pediatric waiting room, was Matt, fast asleep. It was just past eight, and if they were at home, she knew he’d still be bouncing off walls, nowhere near ready for bedtime, but Emma had passed his tire off as a consequence of the hustle and trauma, it was certainly enough to have her eyes heavy. But Emma couldn’t sleep, not when the doctors hadn't yet come to update her on Poppy’s condition. By then, in just about an hour, she cried, hyperventilated quietly and almost screamed several times. All she could think of was how Poppy having that life threatening reaction was all her fault. She shouldn’t have left Miranda alone with them, she should have told her to read the list, checked on them instead of stalling in the kitchen. Something, anything.

Sitting across from her, on one of the single seats was Miranda herself, worried, though not half as frenzied as Emma. Maybe she was just good at keeping it at bay. They hadn’t spoken since she’d gotten there, instead, Miranda had opted to anxiously flip through magazines provided while Emma had struggled through trying to get Matt to have a sandwich from the cafeteria and a little carton of milk for dinner, almost losing her mind when he fought her, but eventually getting him to have some of it. And like she couldn’t bare to sleep, she was also too sick to her stomach with guilt to eat.

Her thoughts had left her sinking, and when Matt had succumbed to slumber, Emma had let the rest of the room fade to nothing, one mantra playing on loop in her mind, ‘just let that sweet little girl be okay.’ Keanu had been unreachable, so they'd left several voicemails, and Emma vaguely remembered that he’d mentioned that he had a meeting about a movie he'd worked on as a producer and then another with his agent, though, when he came though the white double doors, motorcycle helmet in hand, his eyes were red, his hair a mess there was an urgency in this long strides. “What the hell happened?” Were the first words that tumbled out of his mouth as he looked between Emma and Miranda, who both stood at his entrance.

Immediately, Miranda rushed to his side, sinking into his side and letting his arm go around her waist. Before Emma could process his question, Miranda was the one speaking, “I have no idea,” she shot Emma an unreadable look, though at the last second, there was devilish glimmer in her green eyes, “Emma came home and made them snacks, and next thing I know Poppy’s having a reaction.” Figures that out of all times, Miranda would remember her name, it would be then.

Her jaw hung slack and for the longest minute, Emma was at a complete loss for words. Though, her mind came up with a long list of the things she wanted to say, what the fuck? Being at the very top. “I….” She stuttered, wanting to instantly clear her name. But then, in a rush, Zelda’s words came back to her, Miranda always gets what she wants and stay out of her way. “I…” Even if she did tell the truth, Miranda was Keanu’s fiancée, who would he believe anyway? The hired help or the woman who he wanted to be the mother of his children. Emma was pretty sure she already knew the answer, best not to fight it, especially since she was clearly already on Miranda’s bad side. “I’m sorry,” fighting tears was hard, and the anger that heated up Keanu’s face was frightening, “I didn’t mean to- to- I just-”

Cutting off her stammering, moving his hand from Miranda’s waist, tossing his helmet to a chair and finally running both his hands through his hair. “How could you be so careless?” He hissed loud and venomously, “You could have killed my daughter,” the only reason he wasn’t full on yelling was because Matt was sleeping nearby, but Emma could tell that it was barely holding Keanu back and the low tone didn’t make his words sting less. “There’s a list for a reason, you know that. But now, my daughter is in the hospital because you were careless! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I am so, so sorry Keanu,” hot tears streamed down her face, from tired burning eyes. Her hiccupped breaths made Emma feel like a child being scolded at recess and all she wanted to do was have a fissure in the floor open up and swallow her. “I would never hurt Poppy, not intentionally, and I swear, as soon as it happened-”

“She came and told me,” Miranda interjected, intent on only making the situation worse, a hint of a smirk threatening to twist her lips, “And I told her that she had to take the children to the hospital immediately. Poppy could have died, for God’s sakes!”

A strangled sob threatened to wake Matt, and Emma had to clasp her hand over her mouth. How could someone be so outrightly vicious, going as far as shoving the blame on another person. “Maybe hiring you was a mistake,” Keanu determined, and Emma’s eyes went wide, definitely not prepared for what came next, “Maybe we need to reconsider you as their nanny.”

“What?” Emma swallowed thickly, that couldn't be it. From the minute they met she knew that Miranda hadn’t liked her, but fired? Never seeing the twins again or Keanu, she didn’t think it would go that far. “Please don’t-”

“I think you’ve said enough,” Keanu raised his hand, motioning for Emma to stop, passing it over his face before turning away.

Emma needed that job, and she adored those kids. Hell, she might have even been falling for Keanu, but she was not prepared to be humiliated even further. And maybe, if Miranda was going to be a permanent part of the Reeves household, it was better that she didn’t stick around. She could put up with a lot, but being someone for an entitled celebrity to cast undue blame on wasn’t one of them. Passive aggressive insults, snide remakes, being a bag holding mouse and walked all over, she could take. But being humiliated in public, for something she hadn’t done? Being treated like she was an inept child and not worthy of having an explanation or a chance to clear her name? That was where she drew the line.

“You know what Keanu,” Emma felt around her bag, eventually pulling out the keys for the SUV that she used to drive around the kids, “Miranda,” she hissed vehemently, “Maybe I should save you both some time,” finding a spot of courage, she strode up to him, Emma shoved the keys to Keanu’s chest, not caring if he got a hold of them or not, “Cause I quit.”

From the minute he held the keys in his grasp, feeling her fingers brush his and subsequently watching Emma walking out of the waiting room, Keanu knew he’d made a mistake. Emma couldn’t just leave, his children adored her, he…...well, he wasn’t too sure about what he felt for her, but he did know that he didn’t want to lose her. The whole firing quip had been an empty threat, fueled by stress and anger. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “Mandy, you stay here,” he started walking off, hoping to catch Emma before she could leave the hospital.

“Where are you going?” She grabbed his bicep, “You can’t just leave me here with him,” Miranda gestured to Matt, still curled up sleeping, not knowing that the nanny that he’d started looking up to had just walked out on them, and it was all his father’s fault. “Besides,” she reasoned, tone even and cool, “If she wants to leave, you should let her. She’s lazy and irresponsible.”

“Wha- no,” Keanu shook off Miranda's grip and by extension, her words, “Emma is not lazy, she works her ass off for my kids, and irresponsible? It was a mistake,” in an instant, his mind was changing and Keanu was regretting the way he’d handled things with Emma. She was obviously devastated knowing that she’d put Poppy at risk, and he had just made it worse, “Allergies happen, she has to learn. And I do too. I'm sorry,” he began the walk to the doors, “But I have to go find her.”

Keanu hadn’t meant for things to go awry, or to force Emma to quit, but he had just been so upset; worry and fear morphing into anger, causing him to lash out. In her three months with their family, that was the first time that she’d made any sort of mistake. Emma had probably committed the list memory and believing that she could make such a careless mistake was becoming increasingly hard. It just didn’t make sense. Emma treated his kids like they were her own, and that was only one of the many reasons why Keanu couldn’t lose her.

Thankfully though, he was able to catch up to her just as she was headed for the curb, arms wrapped around herself to combat the night’s chill, her sleeveless cotton shirt, with a little knot over her navel not really doing her any favors. “Em!” He jogged up to her, speeding up when she walked faster, “Emma, please, just wait.”

“What?” She turned, olive cheeks tear stained and taking on a reddish tint, illuminated by the street laps lining the parking lot, rage and hurt intermingling, “What do you want?” She heaved, and Keanu hated that he’d made her cry. She didn’t deserve to cry, she didn’t deserve anything he’s given her back there. Emma was a marvelous person, who was exceptional at her job.

“I’m sorry,” Keanu breathed, shaking his head, stepping closer, “You’re the best nanny Matt and Poppy have ever had; they love you, they listen to you and they’d miss you a damn lot if you left. I’d miss you,” his features softened, his eyes pleading, “I shouldn’t have flipped out on you like that, I wasn’t even there and mistakes happen. I know that you wouldn’t put either of my kids in danger,” he slumped his shoulders, and Emma looked away, swiping at her eyes. She was fighting shivers too, Keanu could see it; it had rained earlier that day, and a distinct dampness along with an uncharacteristic chill still hung in the air. Not thinking much of it, just not wanting her to catch a cold, Keanu shrugged off his riding jacket, stepping closer and reaching around Emma to drape it over her slender shoulders, taking the opportunity to grip them after, “Please don’t leave us Em. I'm begging you.”

“I’ll stay,” she clenched her jaw, wiggling out of Keanu’s grip, “But not for you, I’m staying for those kids. And next time you want to accuse me of trying to kill one of your children, maybe you should dig a little deeper first."

“What?” Knitting his brows, Keanu watched as she started towards the hospital’s entrance, his coat swallowing up her frame, not even offering one backwards glass before going through the automatic doors.

Three Days Later The house had been exceptionally quiet since they’d returned from the hospital, Keanu had asked Emma to tell the tutors to take the rest of the week off, and Poppy had been recovering with her brother almost constantly at her side. The doctor warned them that Poppy’s allergy to wheat could have been deadly if they hadn’t gotten there sooner, and when Keanu had hugged Miranda in relief, while Emma was still wearing his jacket, she had to pretend it didn’t sting.

As a direct, though relieving side effect though, Miranda had been actively avoiding her, and Emma could tell that Keanu was too. That was, until late one evening, after Emma had put the kids down for an early bedtime and had resigned to her own room, getting into comfortable shorts and a loose camisole after her hot shower, deciding that a glass of wine and a movie on her laptop would be the perfect end to an easy Friday. The knock on her door and been soft, lacking urgency, and when she pulled it open, seeing Keanu on the other side, she was actually surprised, “Keanu?”

“Hey,” he smiled sheepishly, dressed like he’d just come home, still in his jacket and everything. The same one he’d lent her back at the hospital. She wondered if he’d washed it, or if he had let the fading scent of her favorite perfume linger against his skin.

Before he spoke again, Keanu faltered, almost losing himself as he drank her in, tiny cotton shorts boasting her smooth, toned legs, the fabric of her top stretched across her chest and Emma's long, drying tresses swept over one shoulder, leaving the slender column of her neck exposed. A wedding band that hung on a thin gold necklace settled against her skin, Keanu knew it was her father's, she'd mentioned when he asked if it belonged to someone else, someone like a husband. Remembering himself, Keanu took in a breath, trying to pull himself out of the trance that he'd fallen into, “Can I come in?”

Nodding, Emma stepped back, pulling the door open a little more, “Your house, your bedroom,” she tried to return his smile, still feeling the tension between them, not sure if it was a good tense or a bad one.

“It’s your room,” Keanu countered, serious, though not harsh, “As long as you’re here with us, its your home too, and your room.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he bent his head, dark mane curtaining his handsome face, smile fading. “I think I owe you an apology,” he shuffled his feet awkwardly, “No, I know I owe you an apology.”

“Keanu-” Emma tried to stop him, though he cut her off, not the way he had the last time, that night, it was softer, as he pleaded with her to just hear him out.

“I really need to say this,” Keanu raised his head, his whiskey gaze meeting her hazel orbs, and he tentatively toed a step closer, “What I said the other night at the hospital, I was way out of line,” he sighed, going slow so so he wouldn’t fumble over his words, “What I’m trying to say now is; I know it wasn’t you that caused the reaction.”

“What?” Baffled, and immensely relieved, Emma felt a mountain of stress that she hadn’t known was there, rolling off her shoulders, “How?”

Chuckling dryly, Keanu shook his head, moistening his lips, “When I came home, and saw those cookies, I knew it couldn’t have been you. I mean, you bake, but not with organic peanut butter and almond milk. I had my suspicions back at the hospital, you probably know that list better than the back of your hand,” he raked his nails through his beard, “And then I asked Matt, and he told me that it was Miranda that made the cookies. So I'm really, really sorry, about all of that.”

“Oh,” the soft exhale left Emma’s parted lips, and truly, she couldn’t believe that she was actually getting an apology from her boss. Not sure of how to proceed, she gnawed on her lip for a second, “What’re you gonna do?”

Huffing, Keanu smirked, “Nothing. Knowing Mandy, she’d just deny it anyway. Besides, it was an accident,” If Emma wasn’t mistaken, she could have sworn he sounded a little bitter.

“Thank you,” Emma smiled, happy when Keanu returned the gesture, “I know you didn’t have to apologize, but it means a lot to me that you did.”

“Uh, yeah,” grinning breathlessly, they lingered like that for a moment, until the air grew flustered, and Keanu noticed her wine glass on the nightstand and computer on the made bed, mumbling about how he should get out of her hair.

Though, when he was on his way out of Emma’s room, he absently grabbed his right shoulder, rubbing and rolling the joint, “You okay?” She halted him, “That looks like it hurts.”

“Yeah,” he winced, trying to downplay it, even if Emma could see right through his façade, “Went to the gym this morning, now I’m starting to think that my trainer was right when she said I’ve stayed away for too long. Nothing to worry about though, just a little sore.”

“Maybe I can help,” she had no idea where the suggestion came from, or why she hadn’t tried harder to keep it inside, but there was really no going back anyway. Clearing her throat, Emma blushed, “Why don’t you take off your jacket, and sit on the bed?”

Just as flustered, Keanu inhaled deeply, wanting to oblige, but not sure if he should, “You don’t have to-”

“I want too,” taking initiative, Emma approached him, leaning up on her toes, her eye line barely meeting the back of his neck as she urged his jacket off, folding it in half and draping it over the arm of an accent chair. His biceps strained against the sleeves and Emma swallowed the little flirtatious comment that sat at the tip of her tongue. “Sit, please. I insist.”

Nodding, Keanu went over to bed, sitting on the edge as instructed and then watching intently as Emma crawled up behind him. Her bare knees grazed him as she adjusted herself, and it wasn’t long before he felt her small hands on his shoulders, kneading slowly. Her fingers applied the perfect amount of pressure, and when she rubbed the base of her palms over them, the sensation was close to orgasmic, “Shit, Em…..” Keanu groaned, feeling the tension start dribbling away, “That is…..amazing.”

Giggling musically, she just carried on. The muscles beneath his t-shirt were far firmer than what she expected from someone his age, and touching him like that, seemed more intimate than Emma had intended. “That’s good, cause you are so tense. You’ve gotta take it easy Keanu,” she chuckled.

“I know, its just….I’ve got a lot on my plate,” he voice dropped lower as he closed his eyes, submitting to the pleasure. It had been a long time since he’d let someone take care of him like that, since someone even offered to take care of him like that, and not even Miranda’s touch felt that way, so warm and soothing. Keanu would be lying if he said he was okay with it ending. “I’m just glad I have you though.”

“Oh?” Emma slowed down, leaning forward so her unrestrained breasts were pressed against Keanu’s back when her face reached the side of his. By the time he turned to face her, their lips were a mere inch apart, and it wouldn’t have taken much for her to just kiss him. “Well I’m glad I’m here for you,” she whispered, her hot breath fanning his face.

“I need to ask you something,” Emma could have sworn that Keanu was leaning in, and his eyes searched hers, longing reflected.

Mesmerized, Emma barely registered his words, only anticipating what she thought might come next, “Okay.”

“I uh….” his gaze fell on her perfect, plump lips, “I was just wondering, would you go to Paris with me?” Her heart leapt and while it wasn’t the question she’d been hoping for, Emma was already excited, “With me and the kids I mean.” Suddenly, as fast as it was created, the moment was gone, and embarrassed, Emma pulled away, trying to refocus her attention of Keanu’s stiff shoulders, “I have to be there by next month for a premiere, and since I’m gonna be spending my birthday there, I thought I’d take Matt and Poppy too. Obviously, if you have other obligations here, I wouldn’t want you to leave them.”

Disappointed and confused, Emma’s response was void of enthusiasm, “No, no I don’t,” swallowing tightly, she tried not to cry, hoping her shame wasn’t audible, “I’d love to go, part of the job, right?”

Keanu took a minute before he responded, though, when he did, his somber tone seemed to reflected hers, “Yeah, I guess so.”

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

[inadaydream99]

Hey! I was wondering if you would do an Ateez scenario where their S/O is a university student and they notice that they're overworking themselves so they try to distract them and make sure they take a break? Sorry of this is a weird request.

Hey, thank you for requesting! 😁 I loved writing this so I hope you enjoy it!

Hongjoong

Hongjoong was concerned. You hadn’t been answering any of his texts or calls for the last few days and it was making him worried for your well-being.

He knew you had a lot of work, deadlines for essays and assignments approaching fast. But he didn’t want you to overwork yourself. So he decided to pay you a visit and make you spend some time with him so he knows you are relaxing.

Knocking on your door he waits for a few seconds before you answer, your head poking out between the small gap to see who is disturbing your studying.

“Oh! Hongjoong, what are you doing here?” You question in surprise, not expecting him to be visiting you.

“I came to make sure you aren’t overworking. Can I come in, I bought food?” Hongjoong lightly teases as he lifts up a bag filled with an assortment of snacks. You giggle and open the door fully, stepping aside to allow your boyfriend to enter.

You both settle on your bed, all the snacks scattered around you as you tuck in and enjoy each other’s company. It’s been too long since you had just hung out like this and you hadn’t realised how much you had missed it until that moment.

After finishing the snacks you snuggle up to Hongjoong, his arm resting securely around you waist as he presses some light kisses to your forehead.

“Thank you for doing this. I really needed to have a break.” You softly speak, the comfortable silence surrounding you making you feel sleepy.

“You’re welcome baby. Let’s get some rest now.” He fondly looks down at you, his chest full of complete adoration for you as you drift off to sleep in his warm embrace.

Seonghwa

You had been stressing over your finals for weeks, wanting to get the best results as you could. So with that, you were constantly studying, your head barely ever leaving a book, as you try to absorb copious amounts of information.

Your boyfriend Seonghwa had been checking up on you every day, wanting to take care of you as he could see your regard for anything other than studying was basically thrown out of the window. However, his numerous attempts weren’t having any impacts. You have barely even been acknowledging his presence.

Seonghwa was on the verge of snapping, his annoyance at your disregard for everything testing his patience. So he decided to try a new tactic to get you to take a break.

While you were out at a lecture, Seonghwa snuck into your room and hid all your textbooks that you had left behind. He was also surprised to see your laptop left on your bed, thinking you would have taken it with you, but you hadn’t. So he took that too, hiding it in his room, with him.

He was a little nervous to see your reaction, knowing you can be feisty when you are stressed. But now all he could do was wait until you figured out what he had done. And he didn’t have to wait long.

Loud banging on his door jolted him from his daze as he carefully gets up and slowly approaches the door with caution.

“Seonghwa! I know you are in there! Stop being a whimp and open this door!” You demand, your tone harsh and filled with anger.

As he answers the door he is met with your unamused expression, arms folded and foot tapping on the floor impatiently.

“Where is my laptop.” You state completely unimpressed. Seonghwa only smirks at you and shrugs his shoulders making you feel even more aggitated.

“I know you have got it. I need to work!” You continue, the last of the very little amount of composure you have fading.

“I just wanted you to take a rest. You’ve been working non stop for ages and I was starting to get worried. I mean, think about it. When was the last time we hung out, just us and no distractions?” Seonghwa explains calmly, his face full of genuine concern which melts your anger.

“I don’t know.” You mumble feeling defeated. It is true, you had been overworking yourself. Seonghwa was only trying to help you because he cares.

“I’m sorry.” You meet his eyes with your glossy ones, tears threatening to spill at how tired you are. Seonghwa pulls you into a hug, his arms protectively wrapped around you as you bury your face into his chest.

“It’s ok. Let’s go and cuddle for a while yeah? You deserve some rest.” Seonghwa whispers as you slowly lift your head and look at him. A meek smile on your face as he pulls you into his room.

Yunho

Anyone could see that you weren’t taking care of yourself. Your droopy eyes and slumped body screaming for some rest. But you just don’t have any time, your assignments being due in a few days meaning there was no time for rest.

Your boyfriend Yunho hasn’t seen you in a few days due to work, but he decided to check up on you because he wanted to make sure you are ok. However, since he has arrived you have been typing away on your laptop, telling him that you will only be a few more minutes. And that has turned into almost two hours now.

“(Y/N), if you don’t give me some attention right now then I’m coming over to tickle you.” Yunho warns as your eyes remain glued to the screen.

“Just a few more minutes.” You absentmindedly mumble, the excuse sounding so monotone Yunho was sure you hadn’t even listened to what he just said.

Huffing, he stands up and approaches you. His hands landing on your waist, just holding you for a minute to see if that gets any responce. Nothing.

You screech as his hands tickle your sides, your body jolting around in your seat to try and get away as you laugh uncontrollably. Yunho smiles at your responce, feeling triumphant at getting you attention away from your work.

“Ah! Stop! It tickles.” You exclaim through laughter as you manage to stand up and create some space between you both, you attention now falling on your boyfriend.

“What was that for?” You playfully narrow your eyes at Yunho as he smirks back at you.

“You need to take a break. So I’m distracting you.” Yunho states simply, a soft chuckle at the end at you rolling your eyes.

Yeosang

Yeosang is usually quite, not wanting to interrupt or disturb anyone, especially you when he can see you are busy. But for your own sanity, his partially his, Yeosang decides to try and distract you from your work.

“Hey! (Y/N)! Give me some attention.” Yeosang whines like a child as he flops on your bed and flails his arms in distress. You turn around to face him with an amused expression at his uncharacteristic behaviour.

“Yeosang I’m trying to work, stop acting like a child.” You state flatly, trying to hide your giggle at the scene in front of you. At this, Yeosang stops and looks at you, a smirk replacing his whiny face as he gets up and walks over to you.

“Oh no, what are you doing.” You laugh as Yeosang takes hold of your hand and pulls you up. You fall into his chest as you struggle to get your balance. Yeosang’s arms tight around you so you can’t get away.

“Give me attention.” He suddenly becomes serious as you look up at him.

“You’ve been working too much.” He whispers as your foreheads rest together, both of you enjoying each others presence as you stand in the middle of the room.

San

You haven’t taken your eyes away from your laptop screen for hours. To San it felt like years and it was beginning to make hin very concerned. No one should be concentrating that hard for hours on end, espically when you are clearly exhausted. So he decided it’s time for a distraction.

Slyly moving over to you, San places his hand gently on your shoulder in an attempt to get your attention. When that has no effect he realises that he’s going to have to do this the hard way.

Snatching your laptop from your desk as you are typing away San makes a run for it, opening your door and sprinting down the hallway leaving a trail of giggles in his wake. It takes you a minute for everything to sink in, your eyes blinking to get moisture back into them after staring at the screen for so long.

You abruptly stand up and race out of your room, desperately trying to catch your cheeky boyfriend. Entering the living room you notice San is sat casually on the sofa looking as though nothing has happened and your laptop no where in sight.

“Alright, what have you done with my laptop.” You ask, arms folded to show how unamused you are by the situation.

“I’ll tell you once you’ve had a break and spent some time with me.” San smirks at you from the sofa. You don’t want to give in but cuddling with San is very inviting and you do feel very drained.

You huff in defeat after a moment of contemplating and flop down on the sofa next to San, a wide grin on his face as you give in.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me.” San mocks and you roll your eyes in responce.

“You better have saved my work before hiding my laptop.” You warn with a raised brow.

“Oops.” San pretends to look guilty. You see through his act and grab the pillow beside you, hitting him with it as he laughs, exclaims of “I did, I saved it!” heard as he try’s to get you to stop.

Mingi

Mingi had accompanied you to the library at the weekend because he wanted to spend some time with you. He was hoping that you would at least pay him a little attention, but he was very wrong. You are determined to get a lot of work done for your classes and nothing was going to stop you. Or that’s what you thought.

You see, Mingi had his own ideas and one of them was to get you to stop working so he could take you for lunch.

As you walk through the isles of books searching for one that you need in order to finish your work Mingi sneaks up behind you and makes you jump. You jolt forward in shock before turning around to find Mingi on the floor laughing.

“Ugh, Mingi! I’m trying to focus.” You whine as your boyfriend stands back up and grabs gour hand.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, don’t you think you’ve done enough work. I want to take you for lunch.” Mingi looks down at you with puppy eyes as he pulls you closer to his chest. Your hands make their way around his neck as you look at him sympathetically.

“Alright, let’s go. I can finish my work later.” You give in as Mingi smiles back at you happily.

Wooyoung

“What do you mean you don’t have time? I’m your boyfriend, you should always have time for me.” Wooyoung states defensively as you tell him for the 100th time to leave so you can focus on your work.

“Woo, please.” You whine at him, becoming impatient as you wait for him to finally comply with your request. But he is relentless and stays sat firmly in your room.

“Come on (Y/N). If you have a break now I’ll buy you whatever food you want?” Wooyoung try’s to persuade. You pause thinking about his offer, you are feeling hungry and you haven’t eaten yet.

“Ok, fine. But you promise after this you will let me work.” You compromise. Wooyoung nods enthusiastically as you chuckle at how proud of himself he looks.

He waits by the door as you put on your shoes before taking your hand in his and leading you out.

Jongho

After having no luck in getting a responce from you by bribery, Jongho decides to make you take a break. After all, you look half dead from sleep deprivation and it is worrying him.

You yelp as you feel strong arms wrap under your legs and lift you from your seat.

“Jongho, put me down!” You demand trying not to let the smile on your face be seen by your boyfriend.

“Ok.” Jongho says as you are dropped onto your bed, him climbing in next to you and holding you to his chest so you can’t move back to your work.

“Now get some sleep.” Jongho looks at you affectionaly as his hand caresses your cheek. You want to make a snarky remark and get back to doing work but you’re so comfortable in his embrace that you feel your eyes become heavy.

“Goodnight.” Jongho whispers as your eyes flutter shut, a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

[fairytales-of-yesterday]

My Lonely Days Are Through

A/N: okay so I finally wrote a fic! this is my first fic in like,, 4 years or so? so be gentle with me I guess lmao

I am pretty content with this though! I'm soft as hell so,,, here we go :)

@gardnerlangway this one's for you, lovely

(no editing we die like men)

A yawn escapes your lips as you stretch out and then curl back up. Tim's heart flutters as he watches you rub your nose, your brows furrowed. You're currently curled up on his couch, fast asleep. It's a typical Friday night for the two of you, one spent together. After meeting Tim when you started working in the museum a few months back, the two of you had built up a routine around each other. You would eat lunch together on your break, stay after hours working and keeping each other company, you would even go grocery shopping together on weekends. Today was no exception to your intertwined schedules. Upon leaving the museum for the day, you had grabbed a late dinner and ended up back at his apartment. You had started the night working, but the stress of the week and your recent lack of sleep had taken its toll, and you dozed off relatively quickly after 2am hit.

The soft light of the television dances colors across your face as Tim looks on in complete adoration. Your eyelashes cast tiny shadows on your cheeks as your chest rises and falls steadily. You had borrowed a shirt and some shorts from him, you both agreeing it would just make sense if you spent the night, and his eyes couldn't help but wander to where the tshirt had ridden up to expose a bit of your stomach. His breath catches in his throat as he finds himself thinking about what it would feel like to hold you there. What it would feel like to just have you close. To run his hands along your soft skin and-

"Okay wow, Tim." He quickly looks back at the bright screen of his laptop in order to rid his mind of these compromising thoughts. But, as his eyes make their way back to you, he runs a hand through his hair and breaths a quiet laugh. "I really do have it bad, don't I?"

He quickly covers his mouth though as he sees you slightly stir, not wanting to wake you. He had seen the effect the last week had had on you, his heart slowly falling more and more as each day you seemed to become a little more quiet, a little less peppy, and a little less yourself. The project you had been working on was one you were very passionate about, but it had become quite the endeavor. Though you had been thrilled to take it on, the universe had not been on your side, with people forgetting to follow through with their promises, paperwork getting mixed up, and even artifacts getting misplaced for a bit due to the lack of a proper cataloging system when the museum first opened. It nearly broke Tim's heart to see you become so unhappy with something that had made you so ecstatic before. He had done all in his power to keep you smiling, with funny stories, bad jokes, and any help he could offer, but you couldn't help still being discouraged. He had even mustered up the courage to give you a little kiss on the forehead as he left your office at one point, and the smile it brought, along with the blush that rose to your cheeks, was definitely worth the ten minutes he spent panicking over whether or not he should even attempt it. Just the memory of your flustered face makes him grin.

A small whine draws him from his thoughts. He looks up to find you rubbing your eyes and slowly pushing yourself to a sitting position. He tries his best to maintain his composure as you sleepily pull down your shirt and run your hand through your hair.

"Good morning," he chuckles quietly. You look at him in sleepy confusion before realizing what happened.

"Oh nooo," you groan, putting your face in your hands. He laughs a little louder this time, scooting over on the couch to bump your shoulder with his. You smile into your palms, your face flushing pink at the contact. He bumps you again, drawing your face away from your hands. Peeking through your fingers, you can see the soft but wide smile on his face.

"Have a nice nap?"

It's teasing, but you can see something resembling concern in his gaze. You just nod in response, running a hand through your hair. "I don't think I've ever seen you fall asleep this fast," he cautiously approaches the subject, "have you slept this week?"

The laugh that escapes you in response only makes his concern grow. He asks again, softer this time, and you look up at him with tired eyes.

"I uh... I think I got ten hours this whole week."

"Ten?"

You wince slightly at his tone, cursing yourself for not adding a few hours to make him feel a bit better.

"But that's like... two hours a night! You've gotten ten hours of sleep this whole week?" You can't tell if it's shock or sadness in his eyes. Maybe both.

"Eleven if you count the nap I just took?" You joke, trying to calm him a little. "Tim, I'm okay I promise, I've been through a lot worse, honest."

"Worse?!"

Okay, so that didn't help. But before you can say anything else to try and defend yourself, he wraps you up in a tight hug. You tense up for a second, taken by surprise, but quickly you melt into him. You don't even realize you've started crying until you hear Tim trying to comfort you.

"I'm- I'm sorry," you hiccup into his shoulder, tears beginning to stain his shirt.

He rubs your back slowly, quietly shushing you, and telling you that it's absolutely okay, and you have nothing to apologize for. You shiver at his touch, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in. You stay like that for a few minutes, you trying to stop your ragged breaths and the tears spilling from your eyes, him rubbing your back, occasionally switching to run his hands through your hair, whispering words of comfort. However, eventually you pull away with a pitiful laugh.

"Sorry about your shirt," you whisper, trying to simultaneously brush your tears off of his shoulder and wipe your eyes.

"Hey, it's completely okay. I know this week has been rough. You have every right to be upset. But, it's over now, okay? Next week'll be better, yeah? I'll make sure it is."

He's relieved to see a watery smile grace your lips. No, that's an understatement. He's almost on the verge of crying himself, never having seen you in this state before. He brings his hands up to cradle your face, wiping the still falling tears with the pads of his thumbs, somehow not noticing the deep shade of red you're turning. With his hands still around your face, he tilts your head so you're looking up at him.

"Now, what do you say I pop some popcorn and you turn on something you like?"

A breathy laugh escapes you and you nod, not really trusting your voice with him this close to you. You can see the masked worry in his features as he smiles, and you mentally kick yourself for stressing him out. But, that thought leaves you as he stands up, giving you a chaste but firm kiss on your forehead. You're eternally grateful that he goes to the kitchen immediately after bc you can't stop the blush that rises to your cheeks.

"Dear god, that boy's gonna kill me," you whisper, wrapping yourself up in one of the blankets that had been resting on the back of the couch.

You start to flip through the channels, eventually landing on a documentary, and you hear a chuckle behind you. You turn to find Tim with a bowl of popcorn in his hand, looking at you in what you could only describe as fond adoration. You flush again, and he laughs fully now, plopping down beside you. You lift the blanket, inviting him in, and he gladly accepts, scooting over close enough to bump knees with you.

You fall into a comfortable silence, both of you enraptured by the bright images on the tv. Every now and then your hands brush when trying to reach for popcorn, and you mentally curse yourself for getting so worked up over cliches, not knowing that Tim was doing the exact same thing.

You're the first to speak.

"Thank you."

It's a quiet whisper, accompanied with a shoulder bump. He bumps you back and gives you a lopsided grin.

"It's the least I could do."

“What?”

“Y/N, you've spent the last few months I've known you being so amazingly kind to me. You bring me food, you save me seats in meetings, you laugh at my jokes, you-”

You cut him off very seriously, “Okay they're good jokes, Tim.”

At that he laughs, breathlessly.

“Not good enough for you to cry in the middle of a meeting! I was trying to be quiet and you almost spit your water everywhere!”

Now you're both laughing, remembering that stupid planet joke and how you just about died of embarrassment, and before you can think or stop yourself, you say it.

“God, I love you.”

It's like all the oxygen leaves the room. Both of you are immediately gasping for breath, as if the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Before you can sputter out an apology, anything to make things go back to how they were before you blurted out what had been your most well-kept secret, Tim manages to get out,

“You… you what?”

His eyes are wide, and you're sure yours are as well. You're in love with him. You're in love with him. You had never even said it to yourself before. It had always just been little sighs, thoughts of him basically all the time, or little whispers to yourself about how bad you've got it. Never an outright, ‘I'm in love with Tim Murphy.’ No, the first time you said it just had to be right to his face.

You start to say ‘sorry, no, wait,” to say, ‘hold on I shouldn't have done that,’ but then you stop. And you look at him. Tim. Tim, with his sweet words and his brilliant mind. Tim, with his adorable laugh and beautiful smile that he had come to trust you with. Tim, with his tight hugs that make you feel safer than almost anywhere else. Tim, with his strong arms and gorgeous face and Jesus Christ his HANDS are just about the hottest things in the world like oh my god the things he could- you've gotten off track. The point is, you don't want to apologize. You don't want to take it back. You love him.

So you say it again.

“I love you.”

And then it's quiet. He looks honestly shell-shocked. You can almost see his gears turning behind his eyes, trying to figure out what to say after that. Immediately, your brain jumps to the worst possible scenario, and you begin to backtrack.

“I'm sorry. Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just- you're so lovely, but you can completely ignore any of this just hap-”

And then he's kissing you. It's a short kiss, just a sweet, small one, but you're out of breath when he pulls away. You open your eyes to see him in a similar state, his face completely flushed. But he quickly finds his voice.

“I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that.”

All you can do is laugh, still trying to remember how to breathe.

“The feeling is mutual.”

He blushes and gives a bashful smile, then hesitates again, opening his mouth, then closing it, once more unable to speak. However, he manages to regain his composure enough to ask,

“Can… can I kiss you again?”

Not even bothering you answer, you close the gap between you. You feel Tim smile against your lips, and you can't help but do the same. You don't know how it happens, but somehow you end up on his lap, straddling him. Your hands are on his chest as your lips move in sync, slowly, but desperately. Passionately. His hands make their way into your hair, and you whimper quietly into his mouth as he gives it a slight tug. Your face heats up immediately, but you just keep going, pretending it didn't happen and hoping he missed it. He definitely heard it though, and you feel him smirk against you.

Shit, that's hot … everything he does is hot.

You roll your hips experimentally to retaliate, still on top of him, and the moan that leaves his lips is one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard. It goes straight to your core, and you let out a groan yourself. You start to roll your hips once more, desperate to draw that sound from him again, but his hands come up to your waist and stop you. You can see he’s panting, and his hair is all disheveled.

“Okay, as much as I want to do that, and I really wanna do that,” he pauses as you giggle, “you just told me that you got 10 hours of sleep this week. I promise we can continue another time, but right now, you need to sleep.”

You pout, knowing he's got a point.

“Okay, but only since you promised.”

He helps you off his lap, letting you use him as support, and gently guides you to his bedroom. He makes a big, dorky show of tucking you in, making sure you're comfortable, offering to make you a glass of water. Finally, he gives you a soft smile, says a quiet goodnight, and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead. Your face immediately flushes, and you whisper a soft goodnight back as he turns to leave.

"Wait, where are you going?"

He turns around, confused.

"The couch?"

You give him a grin, suddenly a bit shy, and wordlessly lift up the covers next to you. He stares at you for a moment, still sporting that confused expression, and then suddenly it's like a lightbulb goes off in his head.

"Oh. OH! You want..?"

You giggle sleepily at how flustered he is. Just a few minutes ago you were about to rip each other's clothes off, and now he's getting stuttery about sleeping in the same bed as you.

"I hope you like to cuddle."

At that, he smiles sheepishly, and nods without a word. You watch as he changes into pjs, his boxers and an old band tshirt, and it takes all your willpower to not start anything again. After turning the lights off, he slides into bed next to you. There's a moment of hesitation, a moment where it seems like he can't quite decide what he wants to do, but then you feel him move closer to you, and suddenly, he's holding you. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck and you can feel his smile against your skin. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, and you turn to press one into his hair. You both sigh, more comfortable and safe than you've ever felt in your life.

"Goodnight, Tim."

"Goodnight."

A beat.

"I love you."

You smile.

"I love you too."

[starrysence]

'it was a dark and stormy night' | relmer

context: a modern au in which race and elmer meet in college because they're dorm mates; albert is a mutual friend of theirs (unbeknownst to race, although elmer's heard a lot about race since he's practically albert's brother)

[possible tw here:] it's not in this oneshot, but the reason race is so scared of storms is bc (headcanon that) he lost his lovely parents to a storm as a child, and now he's terrified of them.

more warnings: angst (but dont worry no one dies)

at roughly two in the morning - he can't tell; he's tired and it's probably late - elmer awakes to a faint sound of what seems like sniffles and whimpers, and he grows confused. is someone crying?

when he hears the sound of rain tapping against a window in the dorm, his attention turns to the scene outside right as a bolt of lightning illuminates the sky, followed by the crackling sound of thunder that never fails to make him jump.

when the thunder dies out, elmer's ears are filled once again with the faint sound of rain pattering against the glass and that crying noise. the only one who could be up at this hour in their room is... race. racetrack higgins, his roommate. well, his actual name is anthony, but he seems to be accustomed to his nickname.

confusion still prevalent, elmer decides to call albert dasilva - a mutual friend of his and racetrack's. he thinks albert might know what's going on.

when albert picks up, his voice is groggy and he does not sound happy. "it's two in the morning. what the fuck do ya want at this hour?!"

elmer winces at his friend's tone before responding. "it's... i think it's racetrack. i think i hear 'im cryin' over in... in the kitchen?"

silence. silence that lingers for a few moments, worrying elmer beyond words.

the first thing he hears when albert speaks again is, "shit. oh, shit. fuck. it's storming."

"albert, what the hell is going on?" elmer demands, although concern clearly laces his words.

"racer... he's scared of storms. won't tell ya why, that's all in his right 'ta do. but please, el... you've gotta hold him."

elmer felt heat rush to his cheeks.

"what?"

"don't act like ya didn't hear what i just said!" albert exclaimed. the way his tone sharpened and his voice broke startled elmer so badly he almost dropped the phone. when albert spoke again, his voice was softer, but it was quivering, as if he were on the verge of tears. "elmer... go 'ta him. hold him close. comfort him. make 'im feel like he ain't alone, like there's someone there for 'im who cares about 'im... he needs that. he needs you, elmer."

elmer nodded, but then he remembered he was on the phone and albert couldn't see him. "r-right, okay. on it, al."

"thank you..."

elmer swore he heard albert begin to cry a second before he ended the call, and that brought tears to his own eyes. albert had always been so strong in his eyes, like nothing could tear him down, but elmer begins to realise just how much all of albert's friends must mean to him. he sets his phone down and crawls out of bed, stretching but making sure to stay quiet as he makes his way into the kitchen.

race had always been playful, witty, and sarcastic. not to mention flirtatious - oh, god, that boy was a flirt if you've ever seen one. so when elmer sees him hunched over in a corner of their kitchen, shivering and whimpering and mumbling things he can't make out, he is shocked, to say the least. shocked, and quite saddened. he doesn't even have to look in racetrack's eyes to know that the energised flame in them has been put out, that they're as dull a blue as ocean waters beneath a stormy sky.

elmer's voice is so quiet when he speaks, you could barely call it a whisper. "racetrack?"

elmer feels a pang of hurt at the way race bolts up when he hears his name, and he can tell race is trying to wipe his tears away so elmer won't see them when he turns around.

and when he does turn around, the sight immediately breaks elmer's heart in two. his face, lit up dimly by the moonlight, is streaked with tear stains and his hair is messier than elmer has ever seen it, some of it sticking to his face due to beads of sweat lining his forehead.

and his eyes... elmer had been right. they are completely dull, almost empty - they would've been empty if they weren't so full of hurt. for the first time in the seven months elmer has known him, racetrack higgins looks... vulnerable.

elmer is almost afraid to touch the shaking boy; he looks so very fragile, as if even a light press might shatter him. but before he can stop himself, he's sat on the floor, arms wrapped around racetrack, holding him close with one hand running through his blond curls and the other secured around his waist. and, boy, does race return the gesture. his arms slip around elmer's body, holding on tightly and desperately, as if his life depends on this embrace.

"sh... shh, it's okay. it's okay. i'm here." elmer whispers into racetrack's ear.

"thank you," race manages in a quivering whimper. "and i'm sorry... i'm s-sorry..."

"don't be sorry, racer... everything's gonna be okay. i'm here, i promise. i'm here for ya all night."

"i love..." race chokes up and trails off, crying quietly as he buries his face into elmer's shoulder. what he says next surprises elmer more than anything else had that night.

"i love ya, elmer. i love ya so much."

elmer presses a gentle kiss to the top of racetrack's head. "i love you, too, race. i love you, too."

and now, as the shaking of the boy in his arms slows to a stop, replaced by soft snores, he understands what albert meant when he said that race needs elmer. and now, he begins to realise that he needs race, too, just as much as race needs him.

with the storm still raging on outside, elmer leans against a wall, holding race and kissing his head until he finally falls asleep himself.

that's a wrap, folks! hope u liked!

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tag list:

@foundingtrash-oneshots (sorry luna ily)

[whippedkoalas]

Could you do a drabble of Noorhelm a few months after the "please don't leave" scene when Noora finds out she's pregnant. Just the two of them alone at their house, Noora in the bathroom etc, thinking that maybe she should take a test and she does? Like, they're very private people and they just share this moment between the two of them, excited, scared, and happy about the future? Thx

Of course, I can! Thank you for asking, it was really fun to write. 

It’s 5 in the morning and Noora can’t sleep. She hears William breathing next to her, and as she doesn’t want to wake him up, she doesn’t move. William has to wake up in a few hours and he has a long day ahead of him, as always. William has been working as a lawyer for 5 years now, he loves what he does and he is good at it. However, it a lot of stress to handle. When they started noticing that their jobs were taking a toll on their relationship, they decided to change a few things. Now, Noora works full-time on her blog even though she still does freelance work for a few magazines. The success of her blog was a complete surprise and they chose to capitalize on it. (And if one day they’re lucky to have children, Noora would be able to take care of them which was something important to them.)Noora was anxious to spend her days alone at home, so William decided to work from home too. Unfortunately for him, his relationship with his boss started to deteriorate when he refused the position he was offered and William decided to quit to start his own home-based office. He still has a lot of meetings outside but he’s home a lot more than before. The last 6 months were stressful, filled with a lot of unknown parameters and doubts, but now,  they truly found peace. They realized that they truly needed to be able to spend more time together for them to be happy. William set up his office in the annex of their house, and Noora has a cozy space in a mezzanine in their house just for herself. Even if they had not planned it when they brought the house, it worked out quite nicely. They still work a lot, but they are free and that what counts to them. (Money wise, it worked out too)

However, Noora is still not pregnant. She stopped taking the pill one year and a half ago and nothing happened. Two months ago, they went to her gynecologist, who suggested some medical exams, because technically, Noora is able to get pregnant. He told them to take an appointment with a specialist but they are not ready to talk about alternatives. They decided to give themselves a little more time because, with everything they had to set up, it was a little bit too much.

Lying awake in her bed at 5 AM in the morning is not usual for her and of course, she can’t help but cogitate. She should have had her period yesterday, so she’s expecting them today. Of course, she hopes that they won’t come but… she has to be realistic. She hopes that today she’ll be able to take a nap because she hasn’t felt that well since the last couple of days. She feels bloated, tired. Furthermore, when William tried to touch her breast earlier, it hurt like a bitch and ….. oh. Realizing that she just listed all the pregnancy symptoms, she can’t help but smile. She has been there, though. The first months of them actively trying, she was so hopeful, everything had become a sign. But, still. Careful not to wake up her husband, she goes to the bathroom, where her pregnancy tests stock is. She knows that it will be negative but she won’t be able to rest until she has a clear answer so, why not.

She follows the instruction that she knows by heart, and then sits down. Those minutes are always the longest of her fucking life, even if normally, William is by her side. She doesn’t need to wake him up to see a « not pregnant » written on the test, though. She waits, playing impatiently with her lips and then….

                                          PREGNANT. That can’t be happening, but the more she reads the word, the clearer her mind gets. It’s positive. She’s pregnant.« Oh my god » she shouts. « Oh my fucking God ». She wants to go to the bedroom, to tell William that it worked but she is frozen. « oh my god ». Suddenly she hears William’s voice « Noora? » and he’s right there. « What’s wrong No’? » he says and she can see that his mind isn’t clear enough to totally understand the scene that he’s seeing. Still half asleep, he probably thinks she got her period. He shakes his head to wake himself up. On the verge of tears, she can’t say anything so she just gives him the test. it takes him a few seconds but then he hesitantly says « you’re pregnant? » « Yeah.» she says as she melts into his arms, fully sobbing. « oh my god ». He takes her face into his hands and she notices that he’s crying too. It’s the first time she sees him crying and it makes her sobbing harder. She tries to wipe his tears with her fingers but he kisses her hard. For a moment, they forget everything.But then… « It’s 100% trustworthy, right? » he asks.Obviously, he knows the answer but he needs reassurance.« We have to go do a blood test tomorrow morning or, rather like this morning » she replies.« Yeah, yeah. Sure. » « Everything can happen though, I could miscarry or I don’t know » « Don’t think about that, everything will go fine. » He tells her, gently brushing her jaw. « You don’t know that » she tells him.« I do. » He kisses her. « Everything will be more than fine and you’ll be the best mom ever » « You don’t know that » she repeats.« I do. »« Ok, that’s convenient then, because you’ll be the best dad ever »« No, I won’t. » « William… » she says, letting her fingers comb his hair. « I married you. If I had any doubts about your potential as a dad, I wouldn’t have said yes. You will be the best » « I’ll do my best » he answers. « I know »They had this conversation a million times before. She can’t wait to prove him she was right. « We’re going to be parents » he says.«  Yeah » she says. « And we’ll do a great job because we both know what we shouldn’t do.»  « yeah. I love you » he says. He puts his hand on her belly and smile. « I’m so happy to share this adventure with you » he says. « I wouldn’t share it with anybody else. You know I mean it. I want children, but I want them with you. »He nods. « Let’s start with this one, okay? » She laughs. « of course. » He looks at her intensively which makes her blush. « What? » she asks.« I hope our children look like you. At least, we know they will be beautiful. And cute. »« I’m rather cute, I know. If they look like me but have your brain, they win the genetic lottery. I expect no less. We’re a dream team. » she chuckles. « Oh my god! A little William with blue eyes and blond locks, can you imagine? » « They will be perfect anyway.  » She nods. Surprisingly, they go back to sleep easily, their bodies intertwined.

They are expecting a child. They will be parents. They’re finally a family.

They wait three months before telling their friends. (Chris doesn’t count as a friend. When he invites himself to dinner one day, he just greets them with « Oh, God. Noora’s pregnant, bro? »  Apparently, William’s smile betrayed them.)Sometimes they worry, sometimes they’re scared, sometimes Noora curses him because pregnancy is not fun every day but overall, they’re just very happy.

(9 months later, they welcome their first baby boy. They find out really quickly that he indeed won the genetic lottery.)