#I still need seven weeks of having a job to meet the half-year and I need to do that BEFORE the new law gets in effect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simpxxstan · 5 months ago

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it isn't you

pairing: elementary school teacher!boo seungkwan x f.reader

genre: fluff and angst.

summary: you're ready to begin a completely new life in seoul, away from your ex-husband and your baggage of regrets. but fate has different plans for you when you meet seungkwan again, and this time, you don't want to let go.

word count: 8.3k words

rating: pg 13

warnings: reader is a single mother. mentions of divorce, cold parents, poor parent-child relationship, anxiety and worries. mention of accidental pregnancy.

a/n: i CRAVE seungkwan w babies content and i wrote this completely to indulge my own craving. hope you enjoy! as always, would love to hear your thoughts!! reblogs and comments are so much appreciated <3

this is part of the boys over flowers series featuring booseoksoon + chan! this is the second instalment in that series.

“Eomma, there’s no need to be so scared!” Dahyun reminds you, putting her little hands on your arms as she hugs you. “Yes, yes,” you pause your mumbling and hug her back. It’s hard to believe that she turned four last week because she still feels so tiny in your arms. She’s definitely more calm than you as you both stand in front of the school you’ve come to enrol her at.

“It’s just… I’m just checking that you have everything with you. Okay. Eomma will come at three pm, and get you started in the creche, okay? Please listen to your teachers. If you want, talk to your classmates, hmm? I won’t force yo-” “Eomma! Shh! I’ve been to a school before, you know? I know how schools work.” She makes a serious face, and you laugh. “Alright, darling. When Eomma comes, let me know how your first day was. I love you Dahyun-ah, have fun, hmm?” And you press kisses to the side of her head before she plants a wet smooch on your cheek and runs off. “Bye Eomma!”

And she runs without looking back, and you wonder how she’s so relaxed and you’re so tense about her first day.

Probably because you had been a wreck throughout your school days. Well, she’s turned out to be quite not like you. Good for her. Easy for you. You remember your mother being so stressed because her daughter cried after every first day in each new class year at school, didn’t make a single friend till she turned seven, and barely scraped through most of her classes. Yeah, easy for you.

It’s been two months since you’ve shifted from Gwangju to Seoul, and to be honest, you’ve felt like it’s your first day in school again for each day of the last two months. Finding a place for yourself and your daughter, settling down in your new job, and now, getting your daughter’s life started after you uprooted it in the middle of the school year when you moved out of Gwangju. It’s nice that Dahyun’s barely made a mess about it all- she’s honestly too understanding as a child, and you don’t deserve her- but it’s still worrying for you to see your daughter go through all this at such a tender age and think of what impact it may have on her later. Your parents haven’t been the least bit supportive, so all you have is Dahyunie and all she has is you.

When you’re getting up on the bus, once you see Dahyun safely enter the school campus, you feel your phone buzz. It’s your boss calling to find out where you are. You’ve already informed work that you’re going to be about half an hour late so it’s an entirely unnecessary call, but you know he’s a little nosy, although not necessarily with bad intentions. In less than twenty minutes, you’ve reached office and got buried nose-deep into work, and soon, it’s three pm already.

When you arrive at Sebong Elementary School, you see a crowd of parents and their tiny tots gathered around what you think is the hall where the creche is going to be organised. You’re frantically looking for Dahyun in the crowd, when something comes and jumps at your knees. “Eomma!” A brightly-smiling Dahyun hugs your legs and you quickly bend down to pick her up. “Hi, hi, sorry I’m late, I got-” “It’s okay, Eomma.” She kisses you on the cheek before wrapping herself like a koala on your side. “How was your first day, baby?” “Good. Not 5 stars because there was so much crying-” “Oh dear, why?” “Because some of the other kids were missing home! I didn’t cry, because I was having fun talking to my teachers and making friends and colouring into my alphabet book and-” “Oh, darling you made friends? Such a brave baby,” you kiss her, as you both walk towards the hall and Dahyun continues her loud rambling all about her school day. And soon, along with the other twenty-odd parents and their children, you finally make it into the hall. There are two teachers standing up on one side, greeting the children. You can see one of them is a female, wearing a bright green banner pasted to her shirt with her name printed on it. The other teacher is a male, and he has his back towards you. You slowly make your way to the female teacher, who apparently Dahyun recognises from one of her classes. Once she’s greeted you two and assigned you a seat, you sit there quietly. Dahyun finds a few familiar faces in the crowds and you make small talk with their parents, while the others settle down.

“Hello everyone! Welcome to Sebong Creche! We’re so happy to have you all here with us.” The female teacher greets the crowd and everyone smiles and claps softly, as do you. Suddenly your phone is buzzing. It’s your boss again. Seems that the message that you’re taking the half day off hasn’t reached him, so you’re trying to type him a message when a voice surprises you.

No, it, in fact, makes your head spin and your heart stop.

“My name is Boo Seungkwan and this is Choi Ria! We’ll be taking care of the creche for the next six months! Pleased to meet you all.”

Fuck. Your phone slips and drops from your hand and Dahyun yelps in your lap in surprise. The phone makes a dreadfully loud sound, and in the silence of the room, everyone looks at you. You gulp and pick up your phone, trying to avoid drawing more attention, but you can’t help but notice one pair of eyes fixated on you, the single person you’d tried to avoid.

Seungkwan.

And god, he looks just the same as he did five years ago when you’d seen him last before leaving for Gwangju. His hair is now brown and his blue sweater brings out the fresh glow of his skin, and fuck you if every regret of your life isn’t flooding into your mind at this very second. The female teacher speaks up, thankfully taking the attention from you, but not Seungkwan. His eyes still linger on yours, a confused expression in his eyes, before looking away and breaking eye contact.

Oh god. Just when everything was going to go right.

Once the initial briefings are over, parents are offered the chance to leave and pick their children back again at the designated time, or sit through this first session as the kids get used to the creche atmosphere. Dahyun is right- too many kids are crying. And you would too, if you had been here. But Dahyun is lively, she’s confidently eating her banana and singing to herself as the teachers give everyone their snacks.

But to be fair, your eyes are only on Seungkwan. He’s moving around with a lithe familiarity, and children cling to him with every minor inconvenience. It’s in the way he’s talking to them, the way he’s approaching them, and in the way he’s handling them with so much care, that you already feel safe about leaving Dahyun here.

It’s not a new sensation, though. Feeling safe around him.

So when everyone leaves and Dahyun has finally packed her bag and run to the spot you’ve been sitting all the while, you pick her up and turn around to find Seungkwan standing near you. Up close, even with the tiredness setting into his features, you notice how manly and mature he looks- so different from the fresh-faced college boy you’d left behind in Seoul so many years ago.

“Hello Ms. Y/L/N. Thank you for trusting your… daughter with us.”

Oh. Formals. So it’s going to be like that, is it. Dahyun giggles when Seungkwan extends a hand to pat her hair, his hand awfully close to your own hand, so he quickly takes his hand away. “Seungkwanie Ssaem likes tangerines, he said! I like banana!” Dahyun giggles again, and you finally let out a breath and say, “I’m relieved to know that I’m leaving her in capable hands.” Because, truly, who would take care of Dahyun like Seungkwan would? Who would care for Dahyunie with hands so gentle, and a smile so kind, and eyes so soft like Seungkwan would? Seungkwan would sense, would know by instinct, what she would want. After all…

And then Seungkwan gives you a tight smile, much less kind than the one he gives to Dahyun, and waves you goodbye. You look away, unable to stare any longer, and make your way home with your little angel in your arms.

School works out excellently for Dahyun-ah. It turns out Seugnkwan is not always there. There are two teachers working out alternately. So you can only catch Seungkwan again two days later, when you arrive a tad bit late and find Dahyun sitting on Seungkwan’s lap and the both of them playing with a playdough.

“I didn’t know you teach in this school, Seungkwan.” You say when he comes to hand your child to you. He doesn’t meet your eyes, still distracted with scratching off the playdough from Dahyun’s fingers. “I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known,” you add softly and he looks up. It’s true, but it’s not something you necessarily regret.

“Does it matter?”

You keep the eye contact, and whisper, “It does.” Seungkwan turns away, clearly not intent on melting ice so quickly. “Seungkwan-ah, it’s not what you think it is!”

He turns back ever so slightly. “Has it ever been what I’ve thought it is?”

Right then, Dahyun pokes your shoulder and yawns, indicating how sleepy she is. It’s time to go home.

“Eomma!” Dahyun asks you as soon as you reach the creche. Today you’re on time, so it’s still crowded with other kids and their parents who’ve come to pick them up. You bend down and kiss Dahyun on her cheek. “Aww my baby.” She kisses you back, “Eomma I had a question!” You nod, fixing her shoes on her feet. “Why does my name start with Y/L/N and not Lee like Appa’s? All my friends at the creche have their names starting with their Appa’s family name.” Oh god. She’s about to find- she knows, she knows, she’s- she’s angry at you for hiding it-

“Dahyunie, I’m sorry I-”

“Huh? Why’re you saying sorry, Eomma?” She looks genuinely confused and you reconsider for a second. Was it an innocent question or-”

“You look like you’re about to cry.”

In your mess, you haven’t even noticed when the crowds have started to clear up and Seungkwan has crouched down next to you, holding a small cup of water. You stare at him, his big, beautiful, brown eyes, and you take the cup slowly.

Dahyun smiles at her teacher, and you remember how Seungkwan was so intent on not conversing with you the last time you tried to talk to him. So you’ve made up your mind. If he wants to keep his distance, you will too. He wasn’t in the plan, anyway. But then Seungkwan asks, “I want to know too. Why does she not have her father’s family name?” You realise then, just how close he is to you. Your conversation is happening in it’s own bubble, and the rest of the world won’t even be able to hear anything. The pink from Dahyun’s dress reflects on Seungkwan’s face, giving it a more bubblegum glow than usual. He keeps his eyes on yours, and you feel obligated to answer.

“That’s because… Appa isn’t family anymore. Ever since I left Gwangju.”

That’s the most sugar-coated way you can explain it to Dahyun, who seems to get it nevertheless. She nods and explains to Seungkwan- “Eomma and Appa don’t talk to each other anymore. That’s why we’re here in Seoul. It’s already been three months.” You know she’s starting to forget her father’s voice, she told you once in the warm moments before sleep. You’d cried in the bathroom that night, feeling terrible and only calming down once you reminded yourself that it was your only choice.

Seungkwan keeps looking at you. There’s something in his eyes, as his eyes go from your eyes, to your lips and then fall to your hand where he notices the absence of a wedding ring. Maybe it is curiosity, you wonder. But he also doesn’t ask anything else in front of Dahyun, and you’re thankful.

“Your daughter is lovely.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from correcting him. “She is. Just turned four.” His eyes become curious again, but then he blinks and looks at Dahyun. “I was wondering if you’d enrolled her into any sports classes? I think she’d enjoy them, because she’s an active child.”

You nod, “I did consider. I didn’t know which classes were good in Seoul so I’d thought I’d wait another year before enrolling her to ensure she settles down well…”

“Oh. That’s your call, I guess. But Dahyun seems to be settling down well enough. If you want… distractions, say… then a sport activity would be great.”

“You’re right. I’ll check it out for sure. If you had any suggestions…”

“There’s a badminton coaching centre nearby. Perhaps you could check them out.”

“Thank you. I will. Thank you so much.” Seungkwan nods once at you, eyes lingering, before he waves sweetly at Dahyun and takes his leave.

That night, your subconscious plays tricks on you. It floods your dreams with memories, leaving you sweaty and squirmy at night, even as the air conditioner blasts cool air into the room. Memories you thought you’d forgotten. Memories of a certain boy running laps in the college volleyball field during practice and you sitting in the corner of the ground, finishing your homework. Memories of that boy running to you during the ten minute break, sipping an energy drink from his sipper and kissing you in the spot of shade you’ve been sitting in, his mouth tasting like the orange flavour of the drink. Memories of you giggling, because his sweat is rubbing on your arms and he’s so gross, but you still can’t stop yourself from hugging him close for the rest of the short break. Memories of him promising to convince Coach to let him go fast because he wants to walk you home because it’s so unsafe to walk alone in the evening. Memories of Seungkwan giving you a last peck on your lips before jogging back to the grounds, both his and your cheeks smudged with sunshine and affection, eyes warm with the power of love, and hearts pure without any worry of life.

“Hello?” Your voice is desperate as you wait for the person on the other side of the line to answer. This is the first time you’re calling the creche, as your boss had suddenly decided you need to finish a task before leaving, even if it’s raining cats and dogs outside, even if you have a daughter who’s waiting for you at a creche, even if it’ll be totally fine to finish the task at home and submit it later. Consequently, you got out of work late and the bus is stuck in a road full of traffic due to the terrible weather and you’re already half an hour late to Dahyun’s creche’s closing time.

“Yes, this is Sebong Creche. I’m speaking to?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, this is Dahyun’s mom-”

“Y/N?” It’s Seungkwan. He must be able to hear the way your voice is cracking with panic. It’s odd to introduce yourself as Dahyun’s mom to Seungkwan but that’s the way it is now.

“I’m so sorry, I really am-”

“Calm down, please. Tell me what’s happening.”

“I… I got stuck at work… and I’m running late. I’m sorry for all this inconvenience-”

“Y/N, shh. Stop apologising and talk to me. Where are you now?”

“Umm, I’m still at my office. Please leave her near a guard or someone, Seungkwan, and I can pick her up in a short while! I’m trying to get out of her as soon as-”

“I can take her to your home.”

“Oh but-”

“Dahyun’s told me that you live in the neighbourhood right next to the school. I can walk her till there. She has a spare key, yes? She can get in.”

“But it’s raining!”

“And we have raincoats.”

“I don’t want to impose on you, honestly. You could just leave her-”

“And let her be alone? Y/N, you’re out of your mind.”

“But I don’t want to trouble you, Seungkwan-ah.”

“Do you not trust me?” You pause. You do trust him. There is nobody else you would trust more with your daughter. Fuck it.

“I do trust you.”

“Then finish your work and come home safely. Dahyunie and I will head to your home.”

It’s about two hours later that you are able to reach home, only to find Seungkwan and Dahyun both giggling away at something he’s showing to her on his phone. They’re sitting at the island in the kitchen, and you notice the bottle of milkshake that had been stored in the fridge for Dahyun is now empty next to her. When you enter, they notice you and Dahyun immediately squeals out in joy. She gets off the high chair she was sitting in and comes running to you and you immediately pick her up in your arms. Something unfamiliar and beautiful blooms in your mind, but it’s immediately clouded down by a sadness which you don’t understand.

When Dahyun falls asleep after you feed her dinner which you whip up quickly, Seungkwan’s still sitting in your kitchen, eating the rice and chicken you’ve made.

“You still cook well, Y/N.”

You’re sitting across from him, and you pick up another piece of chicken and put it on his plate. “I’m glad you still like it.”

Oh god. He’s too close for confort. He’s right here, in your house, eating dinner you’ve made, after looking after your child for two whole hours while you were stuck at work.

Is this what life would’ve turned out to be had you not left him four years back?

It seems that he’s thinking the same thing too, because he asks you, “Did you get the job you were studying for?”

“Yeah. I did. I am an actuary now.”

He smiles, digging into his food again, scrunching up his face as he chews it all down.

“And you? I didn’t think you’d ever planned to become a teacher.”

“I didn’t. Someone told me something about volleyball being an unstable career. And I thought maybe I should switch.”

You sigh. He says it so normally, even when simply hearing it breaks your heart. You stop yourself from crying, because you know it’ll just be more pathetic. You won’t be able to explain to him why you’re crying. You won’t be able to explain why your heart aches everytime you see them together. You’ve spent many a night awake, wondering what would happen if your secret gets out. It’s so cruel that fate has landed you back into the proximity of the one man you had never imagined you would see again. And sometimes you hope a silver lining may emerge from this all, but it’s a faint hope. A daydream you don’t think you can afford to dream at this juncture of life.

“I did get her into badminton like you said. She’s a natural, the teacher said.” As expected. Seungkwan smiles proudly, and you nearly tear up. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing to you. “I hope you don’t stop her from playing even when she grows up.” He says quietly, picking up his plate and walking towards the sink. You shrink further into your seat.

“You know it wasn’t me.”

“No, but you might have the same views as your mother.”

“You should know I don’t. There’s a reason why Sehun Oppa and I are divorced now.”

He puts the plate in the sink and turns around to look at you. “I’m sorry to hear that.” You walk towards him and stand next to him as you start the tap to wash the dishes. “I’ll do that,” he offers, but you swat his hand away. “It’s my house. You’re my guest.” “It’s a quaint house. Very you.” “Is it? I didn’t have enough time to decorate it.” “I think it’s enough- sparse but not too empty. There is room for more, better now that she’s out of her clumsy phase.” “Hmm, what would you add?” “I don’t know, let me see.” He leans against the kitchen counter, the dim lights casting a beautiful shadow under his eyelashes which make his high cheekbones look so delicate. “I’d add a standing lamp in that corner, next to the couch. And perhaps a rug in front of the couch. Better for Dahyun than sitting on the cold wood floor. And I’d- Oh sorry. I’m saying too much.” “No, really. Your ideas are helpful. I haven’t thought much about all this but when you say it, I can picture it.” You look up and smile at him, his head tilted down as he looks at you intensely. “And perhaps a photo frame on the wall between the kitchen and the living space. Those new trendy collage ones. And, also a…”

Oh god. He’s making it so hard for you to not lean in and press a kiss to his cheek right now. He’s making it so hard for you to tell him everything- from the beginning, the entire truth.

“Do you want dessert? I have chocolate ice cream.” You know he can’t turn down ice cream. So you just laugh when you see his hesitant smile turn into a shy smile, and you ask him to sit at the couch. When you take out two scoops for each of you and take it to the couch, he shifts to the opposite end of the couch to make room for you.

“I don’t know if it’s my place to ask you, but have you told Dahyun about the… divorce?”

You sigh, “No. I haven’t. I’m just hoping that she’ll eventually forget about him quickly… she is young, after all.”

“Won’t he want to meet her?”

“No, we’ve completely cut ties. It was the only option- I had to move on totally. And he didn’t want to keep any link either.”

His eyebrows furrow, and you can see the questions in his eyes. You don’t want to say anything because you don’t want to appear like a damsel in distress, but you also don’t want to worry him.

“He wasn’t abusive or anything. We just realised that it was a marriage in futility. Divorce was a relief to both of us.”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t reduce the questions in his eyes. But he doesn’t ask anything, and you don’t elaborate. You’ve overshared enough.

“I just want to thank you again, Seungkwan-ah. For taking care of Dahyun and bringing her to my place. You know as a mother I am incredibly grateful.”

“Just because we’re exes doesn’t mean I won’t take care of your daughter, Y/N-ah,” he chuckles bitterly. “She’s like my own, and I would do it for anyone else. It is my job, and you know it is my nature.”

You do. It feels like whiplash to hear that he would indeed do the exact same thing for anyone else too, it feels like a gash from a knife slashed across your chest. You choke, but you muffle it as a laugh. “I know it is your nature. But I still want to thank you, nonetheless.”

He smiles. “Thanks for the ice cream. I’ll not be a bother to you anymore now.”

“You could never be a bother, Kwan-ah.” He doesn’t say anything and simply takes your leave. It’s a night that feels bittersweet to you. While it’s a nice feeling to be basked in Seungkwan’s warmth again, it feels cruel that you’ll never truly enjoy his affection, or even his friendship.

The ice does break after that day. Seungkwan gives you smiles when you go to pick up Dahyun, and that initial tenseness is definitely gone. But you don’t push it too much. You don’t want to push the status quo because you’re afraid it’ll all be gone again. You’re afraid you won’t be able to protect yourself and your happiness once again because of your own mistakes. You’ve done it once before, and it’s not ended pretty. You can’t afford to repeat errors.

“You must cut off ties with him right away, Y/N. Or else you’ll never see me or your father again.” Your mother’s voice booms through the room, muffling the sounds of your tears as you beg at her feet. Your father stands on the other side, looking outside the window, in that unfeeling, emotionless attitude you have always seen him wear.

“But why, Eomma! What harm has Seungkwan done to you or me or anyone at all?”

“That boy is a gold-digger! He’s after your money. He knows very well he’ll get nowhere with volleyball. A sport should remain a hobby, but I doubt a middle class doofus like him would ever have the brains to even make a decent livi-”

“Oh you’re so wrong, Eomma! How can you say such things about him when you don’t even know him?”

“That’s enough. I know enough, Y/N. And I know he is not the man you ought to be spending your life with. He will not make you happy.” Your mother stands up from her seat and walks away, carelessly pushing you aside on her way. She would trample you down and walk over you like an ant even if you’d laid down at her feet.

Honestly, what had you ever expected from your parents when you’d told them on the day of your graduation that you had a boyfriend? You had tried to explain how wonderful Seungkwan was, but they had turned a deaf ear and insisted you cut off all relations with him. With college over, you could do nothing to stop their plans- they took away your old phone, gave you a new contact number with which you could neither contact Seungkwan nor your friends, and didn’t allow you to leave the house. It was terrible- a true prison. So when your mother had offered you one chance to leave this prison- by marrying Sehun, you’d taken it. You’d taken it because you had known it would be drastically better than living cooped up in this mess forever- your heart aching, your mind helpless and your body tired.

Even after moving to Gwangju and starting a new life with Sehun didn’t take away the emptiness you felt in your soul. But you, like an utter coward, had resigned to this fate and accepted married life with Sehun with open arms, ready to forget about your cherished past, about Seungkwan and all that you had loved earlier. And Sehun charmed you so neatly- with gifts, affection and everything you wanted. It was so different from the manner in which Seungkwan had loved you- while he’d been tender, always asking you before doing anything, never discouraging and always supporting in the background, Sehun was more active, more aggressive in the way he made you feel special. He would often take you on these whirlwind date nights- where he would make love to you under the stars in entire picnic spots he would book for you, where you drove for miles away from the city and spent the weekend in tea plantations, where you didn’t even have to ask and he would drop the world at your feet. It was a new sort of heaven, a rush of adrenaline you had never experienced before. Not with your parents- who had never treated you with any affection. Not with Seungkwan- who’d been equally giving, but shy, passive and so soft in his love. And this rush of adrenaline blew you off your feet.

Until the news arrived.

One month into this new marriage, you’d found out, only by accident, that you were pregnant. Had been pregnant for an entire month. Sehun was, of course, overjoyed. You’d asked the doctor to not tell him the exact duration of your pregnancy, because of course, you knew that it wasn’t possible that the child growing inside you had been conceived with Sehun at least a week before your wedding.

That really broke you out of the haze your new marriage had trapped you in. Guilt and sadness tore into your newly patched up heart and reminded you of the boy you’d left behind at home, without even a message of where you were going. God knows how worried he may have been for you. Instead of considering him even once, you’d been swayed away by the pleasures of married life like a fool, that too, with a man you knew no more than a mere family friend, with a man whom, honestly, you did not love, with a man who had been planted in your life by your parents to distract you away from Seungkwan.

Oh god.

Your parents had won, and you’d lost.

And that broke you down. No matter how hard Sehun tried, he could not get your spirit back into the relationship- and you knew that this was the end of your marriage. After that, everything was just hollow clockwork, living with a stranger who slept in your bed, ate on the same dining table, and resided under the same roof as yours. You had become reckless. Under the added influence of hormones, you let yourself get aloof from everyone and everything, choosing to bury yourself in your self-pity and detaching yourself from society.

And then it was only Dahyun who made you smile again.

Little Dahyun who became the light of your life. Your reason to live again, your reason to find meaning and joy again. Because she was a part of you. And because she was a part of Seungkwan. So you’d named her accordingly. Your little bundle of sunshine.

Oh boy, did she look like her father. Of course, Sehun never found out. He was extremely caring towards Dahyun, ever a doting father, just as giving and aggressive about his love as he had been as a husband. It was a miracle that Dahyun was born slightly later than nine months- never causing any suspicion to rise in his mind at all. And it broke your heart a little bit, but then you remembered that Sehun was never on your side, really. For all you knew, perhaps he’d just been instructed by your parents to make you feel so loved that it would make you forget about Seungkwan. And he’d definitely succeeded. Almost.

Eventually, you became less of a wreck and more normal. Mostly because of Dahyun and how you wanted to be the best mother ever for her. But also because you realised that this was not worth giving up all your happiness for. So you went back to the world- socialising, finding a job, and doing everything you could to settle down into this life in your new home. But it never really became your home. At the end of the day, when you’d lie down in your bed with Dahyun cradled in your arms, you’d still have that empty feeling somewhere inside, wanting more from life. But obviously, you never dared to tell anyone the truth. You don’t have a way out, so it was best to fit in, until opportunity arose.

“Eomma, Seungkwan Ssaem said yes!” Dahyun’s shrill voice greets you when you arrive at the creche. “Yes to what, sweetie?” “To my birthday, of course!” She’s snugly sitting on Seungkwan’s shoulders, and it strikes you in full force, just how much she resembles her father. The large boba brown eyes, crinkled at the edges, the bangs slipping back to reveal an elegant forehead with the tiny nose and small, rosy lips, that highlight the high cheekbones and the full, plump cheeks you so adore. It’s a wonder no one has noticed it before. And you dearly hope it remains like that.

“Oh, you invited him, did you now?” You carefully ask, as Seungkwan lets Dahyun climb off his back and towards the shoe rack. “Her birthday is this Sunday. Of course, I won’t expect you to attend. She’s a child… she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She just wants to invite everyone she likes to her party, I guess.”

“It’s an honour to be liked by someone as fascinating as Dahyun-ah, Y/N. It’s hurtful that you don’t expect me to be at her party on her special invitation.” He smiles, that gentle, indulging smile of his which he uses whenever he’s teasing you, and you know it’s coming but you always get so riled up by his teasing.

“No! I didn’t mean it like that… oh god. I haven’t gotten better with words with time, have I?”

Seungkwan’s smile becomes wider.

“You haven’t changed at all.”

You remember the night of Dahyun’s third birthday party in Gwangju. Sehun had organised the most lavish party for her, complete with balloons of every colour and inviting nearly all her classmates at her school. Dahyun, ever the extrovert, had been so happy that night.

But that was the night everything changed.

Sehun takes you into a room, away from the crowds of the party, and you ask him, confused, “What’s going on?”

“You know I went to the hospital today with Dahyun to get her regular checkup from her paediatrician.”

“I do know, yes. What about it?”

“Guess what he said. He said, among other things, Dahyun was late-born child. She was born ten months after she was conceived, not nine months.”

You drop the glass you were holding in your hand, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Oppa, I can explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. She isn’t mine, is she?”

You heave a breath as you try to calculate what his next step might be. You try to calculate whether offense or defense should be your correct strategy here, because truly you have nothing to lose, except your daughter. If Sehun kicks you out and makes a show in front of your parents, you’ll run away so far that they’ll never be able to track you.

But he doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“We were never really married, were we?” His hand shakes as he comes to cup your cheek. “Let’s not stay together any longer. Let’s get divorced, hmm?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Out of every possible answer that he could’ve given, this is undoubtedly the best, and the safest, one.

“Yes, let’s do that, Sehun. Let’s not pretend we love each other anymore.”

Tonight, you’ve tried to give her a little bit of that splendour Sehun had given her while you both had been in Gwangju. You’ve baked her a cake with three types of chocolate, invited as many of her friends from school as she’d ever mentioned in her stories about school, and cooked tteokbokki and tangsuyuk, her favourite dishes, for the entire group at the party.

But then Seungkwan arrives.

Seeing him reminds you of his words at the creche where you last saw him, which had given you butterflies for the past few nights. He’d taken you back to the giggling mess you’d been at the freshman’s welcome party when Seungkwan had complimented your dress that you’d tailored for yourself and taken away your heart. Of course, it had taken many more months for you to gather the courage to even speak to him, and then more months for you both to officially begin dating, but you’d known on that night of the welcome party that Boo Seungkwan would always be your weakness.

And you were right. His words have lingered in your mind these last few days, and now that he’s arrived at Dahyun’s party with another teacher from the school who Dahyun had specially invited, wearing a black shirt and black trousers, his hair gelled up and a bit of lip balm on his lips, he’s still giving you butterflies.

“Thank you for coming really! Dahyun will be so overjoyed. She’s just in the other room with all the friends, they’re playing with her toys.”

“Oh it’s nothing at all. We just dropped by because we love Dahyun so much, and because hyung was so insistent,” the other teacher, Chan, says. “We haven’t met each other yet, have we?” “No, I’m afraid not. But I have heard so much about your dance classes from Dahyunie. She’s really big on sports and dancing, such an active child. A complete opposite from me, so it’s a little hard for me to understand.” You smile as you hand them both a piece of the birthday cake.

“Oh, she must’ve taken after her dad.” Chan says with a smile, unknowingly speaking the truth.

“You’re right. She has.”

“This tastes amazing, Y/N-ah.” Seungkwan quietly says as he eats his cake.

“Oh. I’m glad. I made it for her. Chocolate is her favourite flavour.”

“Would it be too much for ask for another slice?” Chan says with a giggle, and you cry out, “Of course not! I’m a bad host for not offering you anyway. I’m sorry, here you go.”

“So, you and hyung know each other from college, I heard.”

Seungkwan’s sharp breath can be heard and you’re instantly on the edge. “Yes. We… were friends.” We were in love. “Your hyung wanted to become a volleyball star at that time, Chan-ssi.” I stole his dream from him. “Oh really? I never knew you played it so seriously, hyung! Y/N-ssi, did you also play?” “Oh no. Like I said, I was never into sports.”

“No.” You almost miss Seungkwan’s voice. “Your parents never encouraged you to try out sports.” Chan looks at him puzzled, and he continues, “It’s important for parents to let children experiment with different things as a child to let them make their own choices. I hope you won’t make the same mistakes your parents made, Y/N-ah.”

You’re silent for a second before replying, “I’m here because I’m not going to make the same mistakes, Seungkwan. But it’s fair for you to not trust me to be a good mother.”

“I never said that,” his eyes soften. “I’ve always known you’d be the best mother, Y/N-ah. And I can see that in the way Dahyun’s been brought up.”

In that moment with electricity charged between your gazes, you’ve both forgotten about Chan sitting there right in between you two. There’s so much going unsaid, so much you can’t even explain, so much you don’t even want to admit to yourself.

“Chan Ssaem! Seungkwan Ssaem! You came!” Dahyun bursts in suddenly, and behind her are a flurry of other tiny kids from her class. They all cheer very loudly on seeing their teachers, quite shocked to see them outside class. Seungkwan gives her a gift- it’s a set of jigsaw puzzles, and Chan places a faux crown on her head as he gives her a book. The tensions dissolve, and you’re glad.

Chan leaves after a short while, but on your (and Dahyun’s) request, Seungkwan stays. He stays long enough to see all the kids leave one by one, and Dahyun becoming tired from all that playing and chattering. So after you’ve cleaned up the house from the mess of the party, grateful that your daughter enjoyed so much but also overstimulated from it all, you almost cry when you see Seungkwan sitting on the couch with Dahyun asleep in his lap, his head bent as he scrolls through his phone. You wonder, if in another life, in another world, in another universe, this would be your life and not a mirage you yearned for.

But what if you were brave? What if you could be ambitious and try to have it all in this life itself?

“Ice cream for dessert.” You hand the bowl to Seungkwan as you sit on the other side of the sofa. You softly take Dahyun and twist her into your lap, and she instantly wraps herself around you as she finds your warmth. You can’t help but kiss her forehead fondly, mirroring the expression Seungkwan wears right now.

“You’ve really brought her up so well. She’s got all your good genes.”

“And yours.”

Seungkwan’s hand stills mid-air when he was trying to scoop into the ice cream.

“What did you say?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wondered. She is four years old, and she looks remarkably like you. The similarities are obvious.”

“But I… I didn’t dare to- no! You’re lying.” Seungkwan’s voice becomes a harsh whisper as he stares at you incredulously. You match his gaze, letting down your shield. “I’m not.” He continues to stare at you. Then he suddenly drops to his knees near your feet and says, “Y/N. Don’t be cruel to me anymore. You can’t joke about-” “I’m not joking, Seungkwan, why won’t you believe me?” “Because I don’t want to believe and become hopeful only to lose it all again!” You’re both nearly shouting but in loud whispers, trying to not wake up Dahyun, who’s surprisingly, still peacefully snoring away.

You stand up and pull Seungkwan to his feet. Then you drag him to the bedroom and gently close the door.

“You can test it. I’m not lying.” You softly grab his wrist, but he shivers. “You’re going to make me mad, Y/N. How is this possible? Why did you not tell me? Why did you leave me then?” He finally asks, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“Do you really not know?”

“No… I do. You sent that letter.”

“I didn’t. I found out years later about it. My mother sent it. You think I’d break up with you over a typed letter?”

“So? What was it for?”

“They didn’t let me out of the house. Wouldn’t let me meet you. Or anyone. The only way to get out of that hell was to marry Sehun.”

“I read about the wedding in the local newspaper.” He shakes his head bitterly. “But he was truly your match- in status, and in wealth.”

“You know I’ve never cared for anything like that.” You tug at his wrist, and he looks up at you.

“Is that why you left him? Because of Dahyun? But why so late then?”

“I was waiting to gather enough finances. Plus, he didn’t even suspect anything until six months ago. Perfectly timed, coincidentally, for my savings to come up to a good amount for me to confidently move out.”

He shakes his head vigorously, his eyes wide. “No, no… you’re not making sense. Can you start from the beginning?”

So you do. You tell him everything, from the beginning. By the end of it, he’s sitting on your bed, next to you, as you both stare at your feet. It feels so relieving and so freeing to tell him, someone apart from yourself the whole truth. It’s like a weight lifted off your chest and a headache that dissipates into thin air. You slouch back and look at Seungkwan, who’s still looking like he’s in shock.

After a solid ten minutes, he says, “Why didn’t you tell me before, Y/N?”

“I… I don’t know. I didn’t know how you’d react, I didn’t know if you’d accept us. I didn’t know what would happen if somehow the truth reached my parents. I was obsessed with protecting my daughter, first, you see.”

“I do see. But I… it still hurts that you didn’t trust me with it.”

“But it would be fair for you… back then, and even now, to not want us in your life. To remain strangers forever. I- I would understand. You have every right to be angry at me-”

“I’d think you would know me better than this, Y/N-ah. You would know that no matter how many times you leave me, if you ever want to come back I would open my arms wide and fall to your feet to let me love you again.”

A stray tear escapes your eyes. It’s a stab to your chest, and you extend a hand slowly to touch Seungkwan’s hands which lie in his lap. He doesn’t say a word, only opens his fingers to capture your hand in his and tightly seals the clasp. It’s so warm, his hands. The touch is remarkably familiar.

“What do you want, Seungkwan-ah? I’ve given it all up to you. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

He just looks up at you, his hand still holding on to yours. He doesn’t say a word, but then he gently leans in. You think he’s going to whisper something, but then he places a small kiss on your lips. It’s a peck, no more, but it sends your body in overdrive. Suddenly, you’re floating and drowning all at the same time. “She has your hair,” he says, his breath mingling into yours as his lips move just a few inches away from you, eyes still locked. You giggle. It’s true- Dahyun’s hair is just the same as yours, but the rest of her completely looks like him, you know. “I can’t… I can’t believe it that you’re here, Kwan-ah.” “Neither can I. When you arrived at the creche that day, I thought I was hallucinating. Even more when I saw your little girl sitting in your arms.” “Our little girl. We made her.” You can see the way Seungkwan’s entire face turns red. “Fuck, Y/N. How can you say it so easily?” “Because I’ve had four years to adjust to it. I’m sorry if I’ve bombed you with too much information too fast.” “No kidding. It felt like that climax scene from a romcom movie except this is real life, it was my life.” “Don’t be dramatic. Why did you kiss me?” “Because I missed you?” And it’s your turn to become red with embarrassment. Some part of you feels overjoyed, but still so guilty. So you move away from him, taking away from your hand from his grip and turning your entire body away.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, Kwan-ah. I’ve hurt you so much already. You shouldn’t forgive me so easily.”

He softly grips your shoulders and turns you to face him. “I have been hurt by your actions, it’s true. You left me in an abyss from which only I know how I escaped. But it still didn’t feel like you. After all the love you gave me, how could you just run away from me by leaving that letter and marry someone else? I couldn’t believe that you could be so cruel, so deceiving. But everything around me told me I was wrong. Your marriage announcement, the way you didn’t call me or even contact me, or in fact, any of our college friends, everything was eventually proving to me that you were gone forever from my life.”

More tears flood down your cheeks. His grip tightens, and he continues. “But you’ve explained the truth to me, and now I can’t help but forgive you. Because I know I was right. All along, in my heart, I knew it and I was right. And now you’re here. I would be a fool to let you go again.”

“But-”

“There’s no buts. I’m not looking back.”

And he hugs you, his warmth engulfing your entire body as you cling to him. He smells sweet, like he did all those years ago, and you hold him close, so close that you can’t breathe but you can’t let go either.

“Baby? I can’t breathe.” Seungkwan whispers in your ears, and you shiver in the shock of hearing the pet name. “I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“No, don’t be sorry. Let’s get Dahyunie into bed, hmm? Do you sleep with her?”

“I do. This is our bedroom.”

“Then let’s get her to bed.”

“Will you stay?”

“Hmm?” Seungkwan looks at you, his eyes wet but fond, as he walks towards the door to pick up Dahyun where she’s sleeping on the couch.

“Stay with us?”

“Are you going to tell Dahyun?”

“What do you say?”

“It’s your call. You’re her mother.”

“And you’re her father,” you whisper as you walk towards him and sling your hands around his neck.

“God, don’t say it so casually. It hasn’t sunk in yet.”

You lean in and kiss him on his cheek. “I was thinking- maybe if she woke up and found her favourite Ssaem cuddling her, would she be pleasantly surprised?”

“What if she gets creeped out?”

“Oh god. I think Dahyun loves you enough to not be creeped out by it. At most, she’d think we’re dating now.”

“We’re not?”

“Are we?”

He kisses you softly on your cheek, an open-mouthed kiss that leaves your skin wet. “I love you Y/N. I never stopped loving you. Will you have me back again in your life?”

You hug him tightly again, your nerves tingling with joy. “Oh god, I love you too, Seungkwan-ah. I’ll love you better this time.”

“Shh, darling. Let’s get our little baby to sleep now, hmm?”

You look at him, and you see stars. It’s a miracle, nothing short of that. But he’s yours. Again.

“Shall we change her last name to Boo now?”

“Oh dear. Boo Dahyun?”

“It sounds so cute!”

“Now stop squealing or I can’t open the door otherwise she’ll wake up!”

“Sorry, I’ll be quiet, baby.”

He smiles widely and kisses you again, full on your mouth, “I promise, I’ll never let you go. Nor Dahyunie. I love you so much.”

a/n: read the stories of the other three boys here! would love to hear your feedback!

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hungermakesmonsters · 8 months ago

Text

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Twenty-One

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : R - back to their smutty selves

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing massive, just some smutty behaviour in public and a brief visit to Billy's mother in the care home. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~4.7k

A/N : After last week, we're back to more slightly fun times with reader and Billy. This is set around a couple of weeks after the last part!

Chapter Twenty-One

It wasn’t easy. Nothing about going back to Billy after everything that had happened was easy, and you both seemed to understand that something had shifted in your relationship. There were no more lies between you, no more walls to hide behind. When you’d told him the truth about Scott, you’d let him see a part of yourself that only one other person knew, and when Billy told you about Frank, about how he’d always traded his brother for a lavish lifestyle, he’d let you see how flawed he really was.

The honeymoon period of your relationship was over and, now, you were privy to the darkest parts of each other.

Only a year ago, that level of intimacy with another person would have terrified you, but now, knowing that he loved you despite your mistakes, made you feel closer to him than ever. And, in turn, knowing more about the things that hurt him, the things that made him hate and second guess himself, made you feel like you could actually support him when he needed you, instead of pretending like everything in his life was perfect.

The conversation about you moving in came up again and, of course, you said yes. Karen came through with the offer of a job with The Bulletin. And, suddenly, you felt like you had purpose again, like you were actually living your life instead of just existing. Karen even wanted to take you on a girls weekend to Mexico to celebrate.

But the new frankness in your relationship did cause a few little bumps, but they were things that you knew couldn’t be rushed; like Billy’s panic attacks. He still wouldn’t talk about them though, thankfully, he hadn’t had any that you knew of since your photography show.

And, on the topic of the show - well, let's just say you and Billy had words a couple of days after the show when almost half the photos that had been sold turned up at the penthouse. But, as much as you might have wanted to be annoyed about it, when he told you that he’d bought them so that he’d always have something to remember you by, you knew you couldn’t stay mad. And you had to admit that you’d never really been comfortable with the thought of anyone else owning that photo of him.

Little by little, he opened himself up to you, but never more so than he agreed to let you meet his mother. Though agreed might have been too strong of a word for it.

“I’m going to be late to Karen’s party tomorrow,” he told you as you sat down to dinner together.

“That’s okay, I can wait for you,” you shrugged, assuming that work would be keeping him late.

“No, it’s fine, you should just go ahead. I don’t know how long I’m going to be.”

“I’m sure Anvil won’t go bankrupt if you decide to finish an hour early on a friday,” you joked.

“It’s not a work thing,” he confessed, awkwardly dropping his gaze for a moment. You didn’t ask, you just gave him a moment, letting him decide if he wanted to tell you. And he did. “I go to see my mom on the last friday of every month, just to make sure everything’s -”

He trailed off into a sigh before offering you something of a shrug. That one little gesture told you everything; he wasn’t going because he wanted to, he was going out of some sense of obligation.

“I’ll go with you,” you told him the words coming out before you could even stop to really think about it.

“No, you’d just be waiting in the car, you might as well just -”

“No, I mean, I want to meet your mom.”

“What?” It was hard to tell if he was more shocked or confused.

It took you a moment to find the words to explain it to him. “For better or worse, she’s your family Billy and I want to get to know every part of you.”

Billy hadn’t been happy exactly, but he did relent and give in to you, and the next day, after work, the pair of you drove to the little home where his mother lived.

First impressions were not great, and you could understand why the PI had had such a low opinion of where Billy was choosing to keep his mother. A part of you did feel bad as he led you through the dingy, sterile corridors, the sounds of other residents echoing all around you.

You gripped Billy’s hand a little tighter and, when he gave you a concerned look, you explained to him that it reminded you of a hospital and that you hated hospitals.

A couple of the nurses offered muttered hellos as you and Billy passed them before stopping at a door labelled Carla Russo. He looked at you for a second before taking a breath and opening the door.

You weren’t sure what you expected, but what you found on the other side of that door certainly wasn’t it. Over the months you’d known about Billy’s abandonment, you’d built up this picture of a malevolent, uncaring and selfish woman. You’d pictured her as a monster, but the bedridden woman in front of you was the opposite of what you’d imagined. You felt almost bad for her, seeing what years of substance abuse had done to her.

Billy introduced you but you barely heard it, barely noticed much of anything until he let go of your hand and made his way around her bed to softly kiss her forehead. His mother didn’t react, but your attention was more concerned with Billy; with the stiff way he carried himself and the way he seemed to be forcing back a frown.

He spoke with his mother for a few minutes, as if she’d asked to hear about his day and how his work was going, while you took a seat. You half-listened, just watching Billy and trying to imagine a happy scene, one where his mother acknowledged him and smiled at his achievements, rather than staring vacantly at the ceiling.

When his attention finally returned to you, it was to tell you that he needed to go speak with her doctor, asking you if you’d be alright waiting there on your own or if you wanted to go wait in the car. You told him you’d stay, that you’d wait with his mother.

The minutes ticked by and you remained seated and silent, watching the figure on the bed as she just laid there, until something compelled you to stand, to move closer.

You looked down at her with all the sympathy you could muster, seeing a woman who should have still had so much of her life in front of her. As much as you wanted to hate her, all you really felt was pity, but not because of the state that she was in.

“You should know that your son’s a good man,” you told her, even though she gave no indication that she was listening or even realised that you were there, “he’s kind and funny, and so full of love. And he’s all of those things in spite of you. I don’t know how hard it was for you to leave him like that, but I pity you - not because you’re like this but because you gave up your chance to know him like I do. You gave up the chance to know what it’s like to be loved by him.”

If she could hear or understand what you were saying, she didn’t show it, but you weren’t quite done.

“He’s been through so much on his own, but he’s not alone anymore; he’s got me now, and I’m never going to abandon him like you did. You didn’t love or protect your son when he needed you most, but I’m never going to give up on him. I’m going to love him the way that he deserves to be loved.” The words tumbled from your lips and, somehow, you felt better for having said them, even if Carla Russo showed no signs of understanding you.

A moment later, Billy was back, telling you that he was ready to leave. You both gave his mother a terse goodbye before Billy took you by the hand and started leading you away. He didn’t say anything, as you stepped outside and started down the street towards the car. For a time you didn’t even think anything of how tightly he was holding your hand - you just assumed that he was feeling a little vulnerable after everything you’d just witnessed.

That is, until he pulled you off the sidewalk and into an alleyway.

Before you could ask what he was doing, Billy was kissing you, pressing you back against a wall with a familiar urgency. And, once you felt his erection pressed against you, any questions you might have had about what he was doing were rendered moot; he needed something from you and couldn’t even wait until you were back at the car to get it.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you, one hand pulling at the fastenings of his pants while the other held you securely until you thought to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. The kiss broke as one hand slipped beneath your dress to pull your panties aside and the other pressed two fingers between your lips.

“Wet them,” He instructed, already sounding breathless.

You did as he asked without question, licking and sucking his fingers, lathering them with saliva. Once they were coated, he slipped the fingers between your thighs and used them to prime your entrance. While he did that, he took a moment to spit on his own hand before fisting his cock, trying to lubricate it.

His fingers pulled out of you, and you cried against his lips as his hips slammed into yours, filling you with every hard inch of him in one rough thrust. Despite his best efforts, you still weren’t wet enough, still weren’t ready for him, but you knew that this was more about Billy and what he needed than anything else. And, as he started to fuck you, your body quickly caught up, slickening around his cock and aiding his movements.

You fisted his hair, holding on for dear life and trying to ignore the scrape of brickwork against your lower back as Billy fucked you, taking everything that he needed from you. The quick and rough jerks of his hips told you that he wouldn’t last long, but you knew you wouldn’t either at this pace. And, honestly, the thought of doing this outside, in some filthy alleyway where anyone might stumble across you, thrilled you more than you ever thought it would.

He grunted against your lips and you did your best to swallow down every sound he made, even as his cock started to pulse inside you and you felt him start to come. You didn’t hesitate before reaching between your bodies and starting to rub your swollen clit while he emptied himself inside you. It only took a few moments more for you to find your own sweet release, your body trembling, your walls squeezing around him, before you both finally stilled.

He stayed inside you, his eyes finding yours, and you could tell his mind was racing, though you weren’t sure why. Your grip on his hair loosened and you slowly started to run your fingers through his locks, trying to set it to rights.

“Did you mean it?” He asked quietly and, for a moment, you weren’t sure what he meant. “What you said to her - did you mean it?”

“You heard that?”

“Every word.”

“Of course I meant it,” you told him as your lips pulled into a smile. “You’re mine, Billy. And I’m yours.”

“Forever,” he added before leaning in to kiss you again.

But the sounds of people on the street had him quickly pulling out and putting you down. You let out a groan at the feeling of emptiness and grimaced at the feeling of his cum starting to trickle down your thighs. Billy offered you his handkerchief and you did your best to clean yourself up while he did up his pants and kept a lookout.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit through this whole birthday dinner thing knowing you’re full of my cum,” he muttered, in a half-joking and half-serious tone that caused your cheeks to heat.

“Then you should have finished in my mouth instead,” you answered back quietly and the look Billy shot you had you almost bracing yourself to go again. For a few. Long seconds you held his gaze until he finally relented and let out a laugh.

“Maybe I’ll find us another alley once we’re done with dinner.” He smirked, holding out his hand to you.

“Is that a threat, or a promise?” You asked, grabbing his hand and holding tight as you started walking back to the Wraith.

It felt like his mood had lifted and he seemed more relaxed than he had when you’d first arrived to visit his mother. And you were glad, you were happy that you’d gone with him, and that he’d heard every word you’d said to Carla Russo. More than that, you were glad that he’d believed it.

When you finally made it to the restaurant, half an hour later than planned, Karen was first to stand to greet you both. And, as expected, you were the last ones there. Everyone else was already seated, each with a drink and the complimentary breadsticks were long gone. While she came to greet you, Billy did the rounds to greet his friends.

“Glad to see you finally managed to pull yourself out of Billy’s bed,” she smirked, and your cheeks immediately started to warm.

“That’s not - we weren’t -” you tried to argue.

“Please,” Karen laughed, “you look like you’ve just had your brains fucked out.”

Your hands quickly moved, nervously trying to smooth down your dress and hair, which just made Karen laugh more.

“I don’t mean like that, I mean -” she paused for a moment to look at you and think of the perfect word, “- it’s like you’ve got a glow or something.”

Your eyes went wide at the connotations of that word. “Karen, glow is really not a word I want to hear.”

“Why not? You’re using protection, aren’t you?” She asked and your cheeks continued to get warmer.

“I’m on birth control, but we...” you took an awkward breath and shook your head. “Look, it doesn’t matter, it’s not... that. We just - I dunno, we got a little bit closer today. Billy trusted me with something important and one thing kinda just led to another...”

“Uh-huh,” she kept smirking. “So things have been good since you decided to give it another go?” You nodded and Karen threw a glance in Billy’s direction. “Well, whatever it is you two have been up to, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.”

Your gaze followed her and, a moment after you started looking, Billy was staring right back at you, a disarming smile on his lips. Karen uttered something about finally being able to order and shooed you in the direction of Billy and the two empty seats that had been saved for you both at the end of the table. And, honestly, you were glad to get away from her.

“You alright?” Billy asked, seeming to notice your embarrassment as you took your seat at his side.

“I’m fine, Karen was just being Karen,” you told him and Billy nodded, even though he had no idea what you meant.

Food was ordered and you enjoyed sitting back and watching Billy interact with his friends, happy that he seemed to be so happy. But his attention always returned to you eventually. By the time you’d all finished eating, everyone had had more than enough to drink to start getting a little louder, joking and laughing with each other.

Billy leaned towards you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before whispering in your ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, thinking back to the first time he’d uttered those words; the party, the bathroom, the way he’d kissed you, and the way he’d made you come for the first time. You bit your lip for a moment, earning a grin from him as he pulled back a fraction. Your eyes flitted down the table, noticing how everyone else seemed absorbed in whatever story Curtis was telling. Billy’s eyes didn’t stray from you.

His hand found your bare knee, causing you to inhale sharply - and that just made Billy grin more. His fingers moved slowly, ghosting up your thigh and taking the fabric of your dress with them while your legs instinctively started to part for him. You knew you were playing with fire and that this couldn’t go much further, but that didn’t stop you from shifting forward in your seat and making sure the table cloth hid what you were doing.

The further up your thigh his hand got, the more you knew you needed to tell him to stop; you needed to be the voice of reason because you were certain that any thought of common sense had long since abandoned Billy.

His name was called from the other end of the table and you almost breathed a sigh of relief as he turned from you and started talking to his friends. Almost. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, his hand kept moving, higher and higher.

You reached for your wine glass and tried to take a drink to keep yourself from moaning as his fingers finally pressed against your wet panties. The warmth of his fingers bled through the wet fabric and all you could think about was how you wanted so much more. Despite being sat at a table with twelve other people, you wanted to feel him inside of you.

“Right?” Billy spoke suddenly, looking at you with a big grin on his face, pulling you into the conversation, even though the only thing you could think about was his hand between your legs and how needy you suddenly felt.

You nodded, even though you had no idea what they were talking about. Everyone laughed and Billy continued talking, his fingers still pressing against you, slowly rubbing, driving you more and more insane with every passing moment.

When he finally dared to slip beneath the fabric and run his fingers through your arousal, you closed your legs. As much as you wanted it, you knew that you couldn’t; not there, not like that. But Billy’s hand remained, his fingers still teasing you as your thighs squeezed around his hand, and you knew you’d have to do something before you gave in to what you both so obviously wanted.

Leaning towards him, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, while your hand gently pulled his from between your legs. You whispered in his ear; “not here.”

You stood and excused yourself, heading for the bathroom, slipping inside and leaving the door unlocked behind you. Less than a minute later, Billy was with you, locking the door and pressing you back against it.

“I can’t believe you were going to try to make me come on your fingers in front of all your friends,” you tried to feign annoyance but the way he kissed you, left you with only one thought in mind.

“You should’ve told me you were so wet, sweetheart,” he groaned against your lips, “your panties are soaked.”

“Some of that is your fault,” you told him as your hand started to tug at the zipper of his pants.

“We’re gonna have to be quick,” he told you, letting out another groan as your hand reached into his pants to pull out his already semi-hard cock, “I think Karen already knows what we’re doing in here.”

“Less talking, more kissing,” you told him and Billy was glad to oblige, kissing you deeply while your hand stroked his cock.

You expected him to lift you up but, instead, you felt a gentle pressure on your hip, his hand urging you downwards. Eagerly, you dropped to your knees, your hand still running over his shaft. For a moment, you looked up at him, wanting nothing more than to tease and drive him crazy, but you knew that you didn’t have time for that.

Wrapping your lips around the thick tip of his cock, your hand continued to pump the shaft, feeling him getting harder and harder, and when he started to leak, your tongue greedily lapped it up.

He groaned your name, fisting your hair and bucking his hips forward, trapping you between him and the door as he thrust more of his cock between your lips. You gladly obliged him, pressing forwards and starting to give him what he wanted, listening to his barely contained grunts and groans. As he pushed closer, you found yourself trapped in place, with your head pressed back against the door as he took over completely. His hand stayed in your hair, holding you in place as he started to thrust in and out of your mouth, slowly at first and then a little quicker.

Your eyes stayed on his watching as, piece by piece, he seemed to start losing his mind. There was always something so real and so raw about moments like this with Billy, where you knew he was being driven by nothing but instinct and need. He needed you and, fuck, it felt good to be needed.

“Fuck,” he growled as you pressed your tongue against the underside of his shaft, drawing your cheeks in and sucking as he moved, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

As his breathing got heavier and heavier, you braced yourself for his climax but, rather than coming, Billy suddenly pulled out of your mouth.

His hands pulled you up by your arms and, before you knew what he was doing, he’d manoeuvred you around the tiny bathroom and bent you over the sink. Your eyes found his in the mirror as he pulled up your dress and tore your panties. You bit your lip to stifle the moan that wanted to tear from you as his cock filled you.

With one hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder, Billy didn’t waste any time before he started to fuck you. Every time he thrust into you, you found your thighs knocking into the sink - it would probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything except Billy and the way he was making you feel.

But the way he was fucking you made it impossible to stay quiet, and you knew you were one loud moan away from everyong in the restaurant outside knowing exactly what you were doing. So, you took his hand from your shoulder and pulled it over your mouth. And Billy’s reaction in the mirror sent a thrill straight to your core. And, with his hand muffling your gasps of pleasure, his thrusts only got faster, rougher, giving you both what you so desperately needed.

You hand stayed pressed over his against your lips, making it feel like some tender and intimate thing and, for you and Billy, you supposed that was exactly what it was. This was who you were; two people so in loved, so stuck on each other that you couldn’t even make it through a whole meal with friends without wanting to fuck each others brains out. And perhaps that should have embarrassed you, but it didn’t.

You were so happy. So in love.

Billy leaned over you, his lips on your neck for a moment before finding your ear and muttering that one little word that was guaranteed to send you over the edge.

“Mine.”

That one little word felt like it set off fireworks inside you, your body trembling as his hand pressed tighter against your mouth muffling the moans of pleasure that tried to escape as your body trembled. Billy came a moment later, pressing his lips back to your neck to dampen his own growls and groans, his hips still moving slowly, making sure to draw out the moment for both of you.

When he finally pulled out, it took you a moment to stand back up, reaching for some tissue to try to clean yourself up. Smoothing your dress down, you laughed as Billy picked up the tattered remains of your panties from the floor and placed them in his pocket.

“When I move in with you, am I going to find a drawer full of all the panties you’ve ripped off me?” You joked, reaching for him and brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face.

“It’s the second drawer in my nightstand, but it’s nowhere near full. Yet.” Billy grinned, and you honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking, and you knew you’d have to check once you got back to the penthouse.

You checked your make-up in the mirror and made sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked by your boyfriend over the bathroom sink, before letting out a sigh. You didn’t want to go back out to the others, you wanted to stay with Billy, but it had already been almost ten minutes and they’d probably all already figured out what you’d been doing.

“I’ll go back out now,” you told him, slipping past him to reach the door, “you should wait another couple of minutes - pretend you got a call or something.”

Billy nodded and agreed, and you gave him one last little look before slipping out of the bathroom and returning to the table.

A few people had left in your absence, and everyone seemed to have moved further up the table to be closer to Karen, so you took the empty seat at her side, even though it put you a little closer to Frank than you would have liked.

Karen gave you a look and you knew that she knew exactly what you’d just been doing. Everyone kept talking for a moment until one topic ended and Curtis moved the spotlight to you.

“Karen was just telling us how you two are going on a long weekend to Mexico, you sure you don’t want some company.” Curtis joked.

“It’s a girls only weekend,” Karen answered.

“How’d you get Bill on board with that, anyway?” Frank asked, and everyone was gracious enough to ignore the way you almost flinched when he spoke to you.

“Get me on board with what?” Billy asked, as he sat behind you, making a show of putting his phone down as if he’d just been on a call.

You let out a sigh and shook your head.

“You didn’t tell him yet?” Karen asked and you turned to see Billy looking less than happy about having no idea why he was suddenly the centre of attention.

“Tell me what?” He was looking straight at you, and you hated that you were going to have to have this conversation straight after everything that had just happened between you.

“Me and Karen are going on a girls weekend to Mexico to celebrate my job with The Bulletin. I was going to tell you last night, but...” you didn’t have to say it, Billy knew that you’d both been a little distracted by thoughts of you meeting his mother.

“Oh, okay,” he shrugged like it was nothing, and you had to hold back a sigh of relief.

Tense moment averted, the conversation continued and your hand found his on the table, giving it a tight squeeze as a silent thank you. You’d talk about it later, you’d explain to him how you wanted a little break from the city and - well, it was only going to be for three nights, and once you got back you’d be ready to move in with him. But, thankfully, as far as you could tell Billy was fine with it. So, instead of worrying, you just enjoyed the rest of the evening, waiting until you could go home with Billy.

Chapter Twenty-Two

END NOTES : So, after some drama they're back to their normal selves. I know the last few chapters have been a little bit heavy, so hopefully this one is more of a fun read. Also sorry it's a little later than usual, I got busier than expected this week.

As always, thanks for reading , and a big thanks to those who follow, like, comment and reblog! I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it’s not working for everyone - if it’s not working and you don’t want to miss a chapter, I post every Friday around 7:30pm gmt)

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #cmiyc ff #billy russo imagine

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 1 year ago

Text

Actions and Consequences

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warnings: implied sex (between reader and ex-boyfriend) past boyfriend being rough and mean to reader, eating, official set up of dynamic and rules, a little bit of spicy for you guys 💋(hint)

7 Years Ago

“Two more weeks… I can’t believe it.” Y/n sighs, leaning her head against the shoulder of the boy laying beside her. He smiles, passing a hand over the top of her head, smoothing down her static hair.

“We’re going to be graduates… fuck it’s crazy.” She cranes her neck, smiling as she meets green eyes. He leans forward, pecking her lips quickly. “Alright, let me up. My moms gonna be home soon.” Y/n rolls over, taking the black sheet with her as he climbs out of bed, searching for his shorts.

“Good, I need to help her finish the desserts for your party tomorrow.” After months of hopping from one house to the next, Y/n has finally been able to settle into the guest bedroom of her boyfriend’s family home with what little belongings she owns. She sits up, letting the sheet fall around her hips as she snags her t-shirt and leggings off the floor.

“Oh yeah? What y’all making?” He tugs on his tank top, running his hand through his spiky blond hair as he eyes the naked expanse of her back.

Y/n shrugs, pulling on her shirt before slipping into her leggings. “Um I think a lemon cake.” The young man flops onto the bed and she laughs, laying back down beside him, her fingers twining together to rest over her stomach.

“I do like lemon.”

She rolls her eyes with a smile, “Trust me, everyone knows Trever.” He nudges her with his elbow and she laughs, a joy filled sound she’s finally getting use to.

“God, I can’t wait, finally get out of high school and we can just… do whatever. Well I mean I’ve got collage next fall but still.” Trever sighs blissfully before turning to look at his girlfriend. “Gonna come be my secret roommate? Get me in all kinds of trouble.”

“You wish,” Y/n scoffs, nudging him back. “You know my classes start a semester before yours.” Trever stays silent for a moment, Y/n staring up at the ceiling unaware of the change in his once easy expression.

“You’re still serious about that?” The question catches her off guard, her head turning to look at him. His face is pinched, like he can’t believe her. Y/n sits up, turning to face him fully.

“Y-yeah… Trever I’ve been serious about this. It’s the whole reason I work three jobs and bust my ass in school every week.”

He pushes himself up, leaning against his head board. “Look, babe, I’m not trying to be mean here but… do you really think you can do it? You’re talking about the FBI here… they don’t just take anyone. Especially…” He hesitates and her temper flares, her eyes narrowing.

“Especially, what?”

Sighing he gestures to her with a splayed hand, “Ya know… little country girls who don’t really know what they are doing. If you really want to work somewhere that makes you feel like you’re making a difference, why not go for something you’re almost guaranteed a job?” His expression shifts like he’s had the most brilliant idea, ignoring the obvious hurt growing across Y/n’s features. “911 dispatcher! You won’t even have to waste your money on-.”

“Fuck you.” She spits, standing and marching from the room, anger filling her chest to the point it almost hurts.

“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that!” Trever follows her out into the hallway, grabbing her by the shoulder as they reach the top of the stairs. She spins and shoves him, but he plants his feet, gripping her painfully by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever fucking talk to me like that again. Not in my goddamn house. You’re lucky my parents are even letting you stay here and you’re gonna act like that?” He shakes her harshly, her teeth slamming together making pain shoot up her jaw.

“At least your parents fucking believe in me! Your moms the one that paid off the rest of my entrance fee last week!” She struggles against him, her hands pushing at his chest but his fingers dig into her muscles. His face reddens but before he can say anything the front door swings open. A short, black haired woman stares up at them in confusion, her mouth open slightly.

Trever steps back quickly and Y/n moves down the stairs, keeping her eyes on her so-called boyfriend. “What is going on? I could hear you screaming from the front porch.” She closes the door behind her, her many bracelets tinkling with the movement as she sets her purse down on the landing.

“Nothing, Mrs. Dwayne.” Y/n says quietly, moving down the stairs until she is beside the woman. “I need to go to work…”

“I thought you were going to bake with me dear?” The sad look that passes across the older woman’s brown eyes makes Y/n’s throat constrict, that hated feeling of pinpricks forming in her nose. In the past five months of her relationship with Trever, Mrs. Dwayne has been nothing short of a mother figure to Y/n. Teaching her to cook, to clean, showing her the basic skills of life without so much as a disgruntled look. She didn’t want to hurt her now.

“I-I will.. I mean I am… I just. I need to go get something for work, I mean. I’ll be back.” Before Mrs. Dwayne or Trever can say a word Y/n is bolting out the front door, towards her run down car, rage and devastation simmering in her chest so heavily she can’t think anymore. The need to be anywhere but here propelling the car into motion.

She wouldn’t break down here, not where anyone could find her, when she’s alone she’ll let the tears run freely and her sobs fill the empty space around her.

Present Day

The rest of Tuesday had crept by silently, nothing like the first half of the day. You had joined Aaron for dinner in the dining room, where he informed you he had a few conference calls to make in the morning and he would check on you when he was done. That was many hours ago.

You had been awake long before the sun rose behind charcoal clouds, listening to the rain pelt your window relentlessly. You sit propped against your pillows, lost in deep thought… shameful deep thoughts. Most of your night was spent tossing and turning, what little sleep you did get wasn’t filled with the usual empty darkness, or the occasional bad dream; instead Aaron had taken up every unconscious thought.

You had dreamt of his hands on your body, much like the day before, only this time there was even less in between his burning palms and your skin. You could feel the reverberation of unheard words from his chest into your back, his hands slipping up, up, up cupping your breasts through your bra. His hips ground against your back, the buckle of his belt biting into your skin as his erection pressed against the swell of your ass. Then his palm began to travel lower, straight to your-

You shake your head fiercely, before smothering yourself with a pillow, groaning loudly. You stay like that for a few long minutes, desperately trying to ignore the ache between your thighs until it becomes to much. Throwing the pillow across the room you climb out of bed and head straight for the bathroom, determined a scalding shower would set your mind right.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Steam billows out of the room after you, a scratchy towel wrapped tight around your body, another holding your hair in place atop your head. The skin along the tops of your shoulders and breasts glow pink, having used the hot water liberally. You make your way over to the bags you had placed on the floor last night, grabbing the closest one and rummaging through it.

Something smooth and soft slips against your hand and you grab it, pulling it free of the wadded up clothing. Realizing you should really organize everything before it all becomes a wrinkled mess. Dropping the bag you unfold a Champaign colored silk night gown. It’s simple, a trim of lace adorns the bodice and it reaches about the middle of your thighs, a small slit up both sides. You can’t remember Aaron ever placing it in the cart otherwise you’d of protested.

A large part of you doesn’t want to wear it, or any of the clothing for that matter. That part was called shame. Shame that he had so easily talked you into letting him buy you all of these clothes, better yet talked you into this whole mess in the first place.

But another part of you, the one that really did not want to wear the same sweats again for the 8th day in a row, won the battle. With a defeated sigh you change into the gown. It’s hugs your body, accentuate your curves and clinging to your damp skin. It’s soft, comfortable, and smells clean, that’s all that matters to you.

You grab your over night bag, pulling out your iPod and headphones before crawling back into bed. You set up your computer to finish working, before pressing play on the little pink device and popping in an ear bud. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand only once, but you ignore it, instead typing away on your computer.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning slowly rolls into lunch, a half eaten croissant sandwich lays on your nightstand as you dutifully work, bobbing your head in time to the music.

‘What’s in your head, in your head? Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie-ie, oh’

Something connects with your door, the sound reverberating through the room making you scream. You rip out your ear bud, holding your breath as a series of knocks rattle your door, making your stomach swoop and drop all at once. Slowly you move from your bed to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open a crack. Aaron’s usual hard stare greets you, but his cheeks are tinged red, his lips pressed into a thin line. A shudder wracks through your body at the intensity of his stare, your palms feeling clammy against the door handle.

“Um… hi?” He doesn’t say a word as he wraps a hand around the door, forcing it open and you out of his way as he barges inside. “Hey!”he stops in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip and the other rubs at his forehead. He’s dressed in a darker pair of blue jeans this time, paired with a black collard shirt, probably more appropriate for his conference calls.

“Does your phone not work, or have you just been-.” Aaron turns then and whatever annoyed tyrant he was about to go on dies on his tongue at the sight of you. You’re standing at the door, eyebrows raised and eyes a little wide in panic, but it’s not your expression that stops him. His eye dip to your body, noticing what you’re wearing and something in his stomach stirs at the sight. The dress is stretched around your body, specifically across your stomach, an indent where your belly button is. Your hips are accentuated and he realizes with a small thrill that the fabric is just barely see through as he gaze travels from your breasts to your face.

“Fuck.” He breaths out, and a shiver skirts down your spine at the rumble of his voice, blooming into something warm and fuzzy between your hips. Aaron slowly makes his way to you, and this time you stay rooted to the carpet, your chin lifting and the back of your head bumping against the door as he stops a few mere inches in front of you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Aaron reached up, dragging his knuckle across your spaghetti strap, brushing across your collarbone where it stops on the curve of your neck. He cups the side of your neck, half of his palm resting against your jaw as his thumb sweeps back and forth. That warm and fuzzy feeling has caught fire, burning with a demanding intensity that leaves you reeling.

“My… My phone?” You ask absently, anything to change the direction of what might happen, his dark eyes snap to yours and you wish you had never spoken, anger and lust swirl together in his irises, his pupils dilated.

“Your phone,” He repeats, head tilting slightly as if he couldn’t quite remember what he came here for. “Were you ignoring me?”

You shake your head, then rethink his question. “Well… no not outright. I was working and in my head space, I remember my phone going off a few times but I honestly didn’t think about it.”

Aaron can only find honesty in the doe eyed look you’re giving him. “That’s two, sweetheart. You need to be more attentive.” Your eyebrows furrow, your soft gaze shifting to something hard as you glare up at the older man.

“Be more attentive? If you really needed me you could of just called. I was busy doing work, I still am.” You snap, gesturing towards your bed. He keeps his hand firm on your neck as he turns, glancing at your open laptop and he can faintly hear your music playing. “And what do you mean by two? Why do you keep counting?”

His thumb presses against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head further back and the pressure makes you squirm. He turns back with a small smile, something impish laying behind it. Aaron ducks down closer and you go still, his breath fanning over your lips and you can smell the tingling scent of mint.

“I did. Twice in fact. I’m counting the amount of times you break your rules, how ever many that is will help us decide what your punishment will be.” Aaron watches the blush slowly form across your cheeks before it seeps down your neck underneath his hand. He would be a lier if he said the effect he was having on you didn’t go both ways.

“We didn’t agree on any punishments, and how can I break a rule I didn’t know about?” You utter, quietly, your eyes betraying you and dropping away from his stare. Aaron smirks, nodding as he smooths his hand down to your collarbone, feeling the wild thump of your heart through your skin.

“That’s why I’m here. We’re going to discuss everything. Over lunch.” He steps back leaving you glued to the door staring at him baffled. “What are you in the mood for? We’ll order something in instead of risking the weather.” And as if the sky could hear his wise judgment a roll of thunder shakes the building. You squeeze your eyes shut until the noise dies off and the only thing that can be heard is the rain splattering against the window once more.

Aaron watches you, gaining a new piece of information, before walking towards the nightstand where the muted green hotel phone lays. He notices your half eaten breakfast sandwich and mutters something you can’t quiet hear.

“Um.. pizza?”

“Pizza it is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Not long after a steaming pepperoni and sausage is sitting on your dresser. Aarons posted in the chair again and you’re perched on the foot of the bed, picking at the melted cheese glancing your boss’s way every now and again.

“You look like you have something you want to say.” Aaron says, taking a large bite of his slice. Your shoulder rises and falls, watching him openly now. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so… human. This is the same man you’ve witnessed stand his ground against men ready to kill, talk down others who are ready to end it all; protect his team with a fierceness that goes unmatched by any other. It’s hard to think of him as anything else besides SSA Hotchner, but right here… is just Aaron.

“I don’t know… I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.” You admit, biting into your lower lip. “Everything is just… it’s such a sudden change and hasn’t been easy to get use to.”

Aaron smile is pitying at best and you want to convince yourself you hate it. “I know baby. You’ll get there, though. We have the entire month to smooth everything out and come to understand each other better.” The loose use of different pet names makes your insides bubble with craved affection, shame tinting your skin. “Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“You do, at any point you can call it off, but you know exactly where that leads.” His tone is all to knowing of your decision and you huff, scrubbing your hands across your face. He takes your silence as reluctant agreeance, pulling out his phone. “Last night I came up with some rules, punishments and rewards that I think will suit you and I the best.” He taps away at his phone for a few seconds before continuing. “The first, simple, call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us. Second, don’t doubt me when I say I am buying you something or taking you somewhere. Money is not an issue. Third-.”

“Answer my phone at your beck and call?” The sarcastic question sort of fell from your lips, causing Aaron’s eyes to narrow as he sets his paper plate down on the pizza box.

“Third.” He emphasizes, drawing out the word. “Check in with me. I need to know you are okay, if you’ve made it where you are going, if there is anything you need. It’s important that you do so.”

“That’s going to be hard to do when we will be on cases and working.” You point out, picking apart your pizza and taking small bites of the greasy dough.

“That’s why all of these rules are moldable to how we live. Work is for work, but some things will still apply. Like making sure you are eating, drinking plenty of water, getting rest when you can. After hours, when it’s just us, I expect you to follow your rules completely.” He watches the way you pluck off the pepperonis, setting them off to the side. “Punishments won’t be a daily thing like it is with others. We can pick a day where we sit and go over everything you’ve done wrong for the week, then decide your punishment from there. I have a few ideas such as choosing your clothing for the week, have your write lines, have you kneel for an extended period of time.”

Your nose scrunches, the next thing your peeling from your pizza is the little balls of sausage. “That all sounds a bit childish.”

“You aren’t wrong. But you’d be surprised how childish a person can act when given rules.” You roll your eyes making him chuckle. “Just like that.” You shoot him a halfhearted glare that he returns with a smile. “But if you’ve been a brat all day, disobeying me and forgetting your rules multiple times, then I may need to resort to something a bit harsher. Putting you over my knee, bondage, collar.” He watches your face flush, eyes going wide like a full moon. “Even then. It’s more so about the embarrassment than it is ever about the pain. Some people find these things enjoyable.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Aaron’s smile takes on a more devious twist, letting his head rest against his fist as he props his arm on the chair. “Maybe you’ll just have to find out.”

You stare at him in shock, your half deconstructed pizza laying forgotten in your lap as your insides burn. Your mind betrays you, questions popping up like wildfires; what would it feel like? Would he leave marks on your skin? Would you enjoy it like he says?

Stammering you drop your gaze from his, his smile never fading as he searches the soft planes of your face, forcing himself not to look any lower than your exposed collarbones and the gentle slope of your shoulders. You set your plate to the side, crossing then uncrossing your legs, the bed creaking as you try to sort through your thoughts. “Can um… can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Does David know? And if so is there anyone else?”

Aaron nods, then quickly raises his hands at the look of panic crossing your features. “David is the only one who knows, and that’s not because I told him out right.” Your panic quickly melts into confusion. “David is the one who suggested I bring up a contract with you.”

Your jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted. “Wait.. David’s… he’s into this?” Aaron nods again, letting you piece together what you will with that crumb of information. “Oh… so… that means the two do you were talking about me.”

Aaron laughs, a deep pleasant sound. “I promise, it wasn’t anything like you might think. We are just worried, and he thought it would be more appropriate coming from me than him.” Despite his humor you can feel panic rising steadily in your chest.

“Ho- Aaron what if someone finds out?”

“There isn’t any reason for anyone to know.”

The iron grip of your blooming panic wraps itself around your throat, your body humming with a desperate need to move and open your lungs. You stand from the bed and begin to pace the small area, passing Aaron with each turn on your heel.

“What if one of us slips up? The amount of trouble we could get into is-it’s astronomical. I’d be forced out of my job because I’m suddenly a woman who sleeps with their boss. You would be forced to resign but of course they’ll go easy on you-.”

“Honey-.”

“-Even if it doesn’t get to that point, the entire team will see me differently. They will question the authenticity of my role and my job. Oh God, and Morgan would be relentless with the teasing.”

“Y/n.”

“He still calls me señorita after I messed up my order at that Mexican restaurant a month ago! He’d never let us-.” Aaron leans forward, capturing your wrist as you walk by with a sharp tug. Pain laces up your already tense muscles and on instinct you turn, your hand lashing out and connecting with the side of Aaron’s face.

Everything goes silent, both of you stuck staring at the other in shock. “I-I’m… I didn’t mean-.” Aaron pulls you down and you clumsily fall into him, knee banging against the chair; your free hand landing on his shoulder. Aaron wraps a hand around the back of your neck, squeezing and before you can utter a word his lips crash into yours.

A muffled squeal escapes the back of your throat, squirming in his tight hold but it proves useless as his other hand drops your wrist, circling the back of your thigh and pulling you fully into his lap. Thighs caging his hips, chest pressed tight against his you squeeze your eyes shut. Aaron depends the kiss, moving his lips against yours allowing a few whimpering syllables to reach the air.

Your heart hammers painfully, your hands gripping at his shoulders but to your surprise you find your body relaxing. Every panicked thought is eclipsed by Aaron as his tongue slowly traces the seem of your lips, asking for entrance that you hesitantly give. But once you get your first taste of him you know you’re gone for, a soft moan rattles through your chest and Aaron devours it, licking into your mouth like a man starved.

His rough hand slips up your thigh, mindful to stay over your dress as it rides up, to cup your ass, squeezing the fat making your hips jump. The involuntary movement makes you grind down against him, pulling out another moan that is quickly followed by one of his own. He is all you can focus on, the fingers in your hair at the base of your skull, the growing bulge pressing into your heated core, the way the side of his nose bumps into yours. His thighs shift, sliding you further into his lap with a ragged groan.

Slowly, almost unwillingly you pull back, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. He gives you the silent moment you need, his fingers scratching your scalp slightly as you try to compose yourself atop him. He can’t stop the way his eyes roam to your lips though, the short taste of you forever imbedded in his brain.

When you finally let your eyes flutter open you meet his half lidded gaze, you lick your lips. “I-I need some time alone…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two hours later your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you glance at it from where you lay, curled up on your side in bed. Your fingers keep tracing your kiss swollen lips, unable to stop thinking about anything else. Grabbing your phone you roll onto your other side, opening your texts.

A new message from Aaron pops up, and your thumb hovers over the screen, your stomach churning with anticipation. Clicking the screen a long message pulls up.

‘Let me know what you want to change, my sweet girl.’

A smile tugs at your lips without your permission, cheeks reddening as you read over the list of rules, rewards, and punishments that follow. At the very end, boldened followed by a question mark is the word:

‘Spanking?’

You take a deep breath, sealing your fate with a few clicks of your keyboard.

Thank you all for the amount of love this has received 😭 I can’t wait to continue writing the rest of this story. Please comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch smut #criminal minds aaron hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds

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bellysoupset · 3 months ago

Note

I need some Luke and Vince😭I loveeee the romance but I am obsessed with Vince and Luke's bromance😂🙈

Soooo I wrote this and it was supposed to take place while Leo is still in Europe with Jonah & Angie. Ignore the fact I'm posting out of order pls pls, this comes before the migraine fic with Bell that I just posted.

---------

Lucas loved his new job.

It had been the product of many therapy sessions and, simultaneously, a spur of the moment decision after Bella pushed him once more to get out of the house.

He liked helping people, he liked that within a week or so working he easily could recognize people and they were warming up to him — the actual people needing the charity’s services and his coworkers —, he liked using his pushy personality for a good thing and not feeling one bit guilty about it.

His superior was a woman in her late seventies, named Sylvie. Sylvie smoked too much and she had wrinkly fingers, washed out fingerprints by years of working with her hands, and a big white afro that contrasted against her small face. She wore golden rimmed glasses that covered half of her face and purplish lipstick.

Sylvie was attached to Welton’s Non Governmental CoAlliance since the sixties, had basically grown alongside with it, and no one would or could ever accuse her of being uncaring, even if she was rather practical and cynical.

Lucas had been expecting someone softer and sweeter to be running a non profit and he was surprised during their first meeting when she had been rather curt with him.

She triggered the part of his brain that really wanted to be liked, to impress her. So when she popped her head in the office and pointed at him, saying “Atwood, get your stuff, you’re coming to this lunch with me”, he hadn't even questioned it.

It was just a Friday and he was supposed to go down to Doverport to meet with Vince for the weekend, so Lucas nervously chewed the inside of his cheek as they drove in separate cars to a fancy restaurant uptown to meet with the mayor and other local representatives.

“You’ve been press trained before,” Sylvie said once they parked in front of the place. She patted his cheek, on her very tippy toes. The woman reached about his chest and yet Luke felt so small around her, “but it doesn’t hurt to reiterate. If they want you to explain anything about the shelter, about the actual work we’re doing you will…?”

“Redirect them to you for any official statements, ma’am.”

Her face got even more wrinkly with a smile, “forget the mayor is even there, Joshua hates when people suck up to him and he’ll be all the more interested if you pay attention to anyone but him,” she instructed him, then took Luke’s arm with a fond shake of her head as he offered, “aren’t you charming?”

He had forgotten how much he liked talking with new people. Genuinely enjoyed meeting them and listening to their small talk, asking about their jobs and mentally cataloging them. How the mayor’s eyes sparkled as he heard Sylvie introduce Luke as “Lucas Atwood-Howard”, instead of just his first name.

It was still an adjustment, to have so many people know who he was before he could properly introduce himself, but it also felt… Right. As if he had been hiding something for the past seven years since he had dropped his final surname and slowly even his first one. Becoming “just Luke” was great, but it couldn’t go on for forever and felt a little like shedding his childish manners to finally embrace the full weight of his name and all the opportunities it could open for him and others.

As it was, “lunch” stretched well into the evening. He had to sneak to the bathroom to text Vince to let him know he’d be late and let Bell know he wouldn’t actually go home before heading to Doveport, as initially planned.

They didn’t actually talk about politics or any real measures, something that didn’t surprise Luke. Networking was a slow dance and while they were all definitely aware this was their job, part of the job was pretending it was all a friendly get together.

He fit the part to a T, indulging all the questions that were thrown his way — About his major, the fact he had been part of the local football team, what were his opinions on the university infrastructure, how he was liking the new job… He even forced a laugh at “ you’re so young to be married, kid, who fooled into this?”

“You did great, Atwood,” Sylvia said once they were left all alone. She was yawning in her hand, despite it not being 6 PM yet, and Luke allowed himself to relax, leaning back on his chair. He felt packed full, although he had eaten just a little bit more than usual. Back when he used to bulk he could stomach way more, but it had been over a year since he stopped doing that.

The heavy feeling from the restaurant only grew on the drive to Doveport. He had ordered a sprite for the ride and the first couple of burps, airy and long, had been a relief. His belly was pressing against his jeans and in the privacy of his car he undid his fly and squeezed his stomach, forcing up another belch.

However the burps soon stopped helping. Around his sixth one, the belch turned wet halfway through and brought up with it a little bit of sprite. Luke hurried to swallow it down and groaned as the tight sensation on his stomach turned into queasiness.

He shook the can of sprite, wearily considering if he should finish the last gulp or not. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, Lucas chugged the remaining bit and then immediately swallowed a bit of air to force up a burp… And it got stuck right in his chest.

Luke whined, moving the hand that had been cradling his bloated belly up to his chest and thumping on it, trying to force out the burp, but no such luck. All it did was slosh his stomach contents and another goosebump of nausea run down his spine.

His mouth felt sweet and sticky and he wished he had picked sparkling water instead. He planted both hands back on the steering wheel and breathed deeply, trying to calm down his belly. No longer it was just heavy, but now he could feel its contents rolling and churning, producing some angry snares and growls.

His shirt glued to his back and Luke grimaced, turning off the A/C and fully lowering both front windows, hoping the breeze would help.

It didn’t, only made him shiver. He rolled the windows back up. One hour for Doveport. For a brief second he considered turning the car back around, he wanted his own bed and Bella’s comforting hands. However that would mean three more hours of driving and just the thought of that made Luke groan out loud.

By the time Luke finally parked in front of Vince's house, his queasiness had grown into full blown nausea and his head was swimming. He was pretty sure he had parked all wonky, but that didn't matter, as he threw the driver's door opened and retched loudly.

"Hello to you too?" Vince teased him lightly, walking out of his tiny house. The orange light of the living room spilt on the steps that separated it from the street and almost touched the dark grass on which Luke was trying to bring up his lunch.

"Stand-" Luke interrupted himself with a thick burp. It turned frothy at the end and he could just taste the nauseating pesto sauce, causing him to gag and spit a mouthful of saliva on the grass, "stand back..."

"Are you sick?" Vince seemed absolutely unbothered and Luke shook his head, pressing a hand to his belly and trying to work up anything. He hated the sensation of something heavy sitting on the base of his throat, it caused another gagging fit, but nothing came up.

"Lunch isn't sitting right," Lucas groaned, his voice hoarse, as another burp brought up another small splash of acid, but nothing else.

"Okay," Vince walked closer and planted a hand on his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades, "come inside, you don't wanna sit here hurling on the grass."

"I don't wanna be sick, period," Lucas scoffed, leaning to his side so his forehead could meet Vince's tummy since the other man was standing next to him. He sank against the soft surface with a sigh, causing his best friend to chuckle.

"Okay," Vin petted his hair gently, "c'mon, help me here..."

Gently, Vince pulled him standing and Luke immediately let out a groan, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Standing made everything churn and he stopped moving, shuddering as nausea caused his mouth to water.

"Fuuck..." He groaned, bracing against his knees and spitting on the grass, swaying on the spot.

"Are you sure it's just indigestion, man?" Vince moved closer slightly, his big hand coming to support Luke's forehead and inconspicuously looking for a fever.

Lucas nodded, unable to speak, and then forced a burp. The belch fizzled out in his throat and he groaned, pressing on his belly and causing his stomach to thrown in the towel. With a choking noise, a horrible gush of bright green vomit fell on Vince's yard.

His best friend let out a yelp and jumped back slightly, but didn't let go of Luke, which was a good thing, because the next minute his knees gave up on him and he fell down, choking up yet another stream.

Lucas' throat was aching and his head swimming, his belly still felt full of something hot and bubbly, but his gag reflex diminished and then vanished as he finishing spitting up the remaining taste.

"Well... That sucked," he groaned, collapsing back against Vince's legs. The other man grabbed him by the armpits, forcing Luke back on his feet with one swift motion.

"Linda Blair wishes she could be as impressive as you," Vin teased him slightly, patting Luke's arm, "done?"

"Not sure..." Lucas wiped his mouth on back of his hand with a grimace, "my stomach still feels so gross... Hi."

"Hi," Vince rolled his eyes in an amused way, squeezing Luke's nape and guiding him inside the house, "sit on the couch, I'll get you some water."

"Urgh-" he muffled a little burp, "get a bucket too..." Luke called after him, falling sit on Vince's small couch and planting his feet on the coffee table. His pants were already undone, but they still felt constricting and Luke wrinkled his nose in disgust as he pulled his shirt up to his chest and noticed how bloated his belly was.

"Here," Vince came back, handing him a small yellow bucket from the laundry room and a plastic mug filled with cold water. His eyes paused on Luke's stomach and he raised his eyebrows, "that looks upset."

"Feels like it too," he nodded, gulping down the water and fully removing his shirt. He felt so warm. Lucas pressed his fingers to his bloated stomach and then let out a burp, making a face when it tasted just like his lunch, "sorry- Sorry for messing up our plans."

"Eh," Vince shrugged, sitting on the couch as well and turning on the TV, "you can watch the game while hurling too, it's fine."

Luke chuckled lightly at that, moving slightly so he could press his face to Vince's bicep and letting out a sigh when the half folded position only seemed to make his belly pulsate.

"C'mere," Vince grabbed him by the arm and Lucas didn't need to be told twice, fully collapsing against his best friend's lap. The couch was too small for him, his legs were sticking out, but Luke had no intentions of moving.

He planted the bucket in front of him, on the ground and between Vince's flip flops, then groaned as he felt Vin's hand on his belly, "dude, be gentle, it feels so fucking gross."

"Would medicine help?" Vince flipped through the channels, barely rubbing Luke's stomach but just keeping a hand there, most of his attention focused on the TV. Lucas wondered how much of that was him actually not minding and how much it was Vin just not wanting to embarrass him.

"Maybe later," Lucas moved slightly, curling up his legs. Vince's hand was heavy and warm and it helped a little bit. He was sure Vin could feel all the bubbles and churns under his palm, but the other man said nothing, "how was work?"

"Nice," Vince shrugged, chuckling at the small talk, "we just came back from the field trip and the teens aren't fully up to speed with routine again."

"Aw man, I miss having field trips," Lucas pouted, then grimaced as his belly gurgled fiercely. A warm, thick burp crawled up his throat and he pitched forward, thinking it'd turn into a retch. When it didn't, he fell back against Vince's lap.

"Speak for yourself, if I never go on a field trip again, it'll be too soon," Vince teased him, "I told you Daniels caught the plague, right?"

"You might have mentioned one or a thousand times," Luke's voice was bitter and he felt, more than heard, Vince chuckle. His best friend grabbed his arm, shaking him lightly.

"You're jealous?" Vince made no effort whatsoever to hide his amusement, glee coloring his words, "so that's why you're so green?"

"Shut up," Lucas scoffed, shoving Vince's tummy and curling up, "I'm not jealous, I just don't see what's so special about that guy that you won't shut up about him."

"Leave him alone, Luke," Vince continued to chuckle, "I think the man is just lonely, I just- I don't know, I feel for him."

"Saint Vince to the rescue," Lucas mumbled, feeling something horrible burn in his belly. Not just indigestion, but plain, unmitigated jealousy. Vin was his best friend and he lived four hours away and wouldn't shut up about this guy and yeah... Luke was feeling more than a little threatened by Daniels.

"I'm gonna invite him to join us next time we're down the cabin," it wasn't a question, it was Vince letting him know and Lucas scowled, rolling on the couch so he was out of his friend's lap and sitting up.

He muffled a sick burp against his hand and squeezed his eyes, a wave of thick nausea washing over him, how much of it due to the food poisoning or insecurity, he wasn't sure.

"Luke?"

His stomach churned and Luke darted out a hand, but didn't move. Vince didn't need any more incentive, he planted the bucket on Lucas' lap and the man promptly folded over it, drooling.

"Sorry..." he grumbled, tongue curling in revulsion and head swimming, "sorry, I don't- I don't feel so good..."

"Yeah, I know," Vince's voice was gentle, his hand squeezing Luke's nap in an affectionate manner, "get it up, buddy."

Lucas let out a deafening retch, but only a mouthful of sick came up. He squeezed the bucket until his knuckles turned white, struggling to breathe, and Vince thumped his back, managing to dislodge a wave of acidic sick from the bottom of his belly.

"Fuck..." Luke whined, resting his forehead on his forearm and panting, "that sucked."

Vince snorted next to him, causing Lucas to open his eyes and glare at him. His best friend only shrugged, not bothered by the pout in the least, "you feel better?"

Luke scoffed, gulping down air and letting out a gross belch, "nope."

"Gross," Vince wrinkled his nose in distaste at Luke burping right on his face, "are you done, though?"

"Maybe," Lucas' belly let out an angry growl and he winced, "are you gonna keep talking about Daniels?"

"Ma que porcamiseria, Lucas!" Vince cried out in italian, but he was laughing, "you cannot be serious!"

Despite how shitty he was feeling, Luke grinned, "I'm dead serious."

Vince rolled his eyes, snatching the bucket to clean it, clearly deciding if Lucas could joke around, he couldn't be feeling that bad, "you're insufferable, that's what you are."

#mywriting #sickfic #lucas atwood #alright last luke for a bit lmao #food poisoning

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discount-shades · 6 months ago

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Dead or Alive: Family Part 2

Family Part 2

A/N: This is probably not what people expected, but its how I've always pictured it.

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader

Warning: Western themed violence.

Word Count: 2200 ish

Summary: You adjust to being a parent.

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Angrily you slam the wooden bucket down under the spout and begin to work the handle of the pump, pouring your rage and frustration into the manual task. It had been two months since the Johnson siblings had come to live with you and Jake. Six souls reeling from the death of their parents a few weeks earlier. You knew it would be difficult adjusting to having children after almost two decades of it just being you and Jake, but this is even harder than you had ever suspected.

There had been a town meeting when it became obvious that fifteen year old Emma had lied about an uncle coming to get them. When discovered, she had declared herself old enough to take care of her younger siblings and the saloon and brothel owner had offered her a job as a dance hall girl.

Many had offered to take a few of the siblings, most wanting to take thirteen year old John, eleven year old William, and nine year old James. The three boys were a prime age for farm labour. You and Jake had discussed the possibility of taking in the children so when he had come home with all six in tow you were not surprised. Seven year old Anna and six year old Mary rounded out the half dozen.

You stop pumping when the water nears the lip of the bucket. It wasn’t the boys that were giving you trouble. They had been among the group of schoolboys that were in awe of Sheriff Seresin. John had approached Jake soon after the children arrived, chest puffed out, trying to pretend he was older than his years, declaring that he was going to quit school and get a job in town to pay for room and board for his siblings.

Unwilling to let the boy throw away his education, you and Jake had agreed to ‘hire’ John as farm hand to help with the milking of the cow and a few other farm chores. The younger boys had followed their big brother’s lead, staying in school and helping out around the farm. Jake’s assurance that they would need to complete their schooling if they wanted to be a sheriff would definitely keep wide eyed James in the classroom.

“You are so full of shit.” you giggle at Jake that night in bed. “Did you even make it to the eighth grade?”

“No,” Jake admits. “But that is a secret between the two of us, Sugar.” The town had recently built a new four room schoolhouse that went all the way to high school, and you and Jake had agreed that the goal was for the children to complete an education that you and Jake had not been able to.

It had taken a while for sweet little Mary and quiet Anna to open up but they were adjusting to their new home. Though all of the children still grieved their parents, in time they had become more relaxed and less formal. You and Jake knew you could never replace their parents. Your goal was to keep the children together and hopefully keep them away from the lives you and Jake had led.

You take a deep breath before you pick up the bucket and head back inside to where Emma sulked in the kitchen, helping with the week's laundry.

It felt like you and Emma had been cycling through the same arguments. First she was upset that you had started to do the laundry for her siblings. She had declared herself their true caretaker and insisted on doing it herself. So you had let her. Then she was upset and accused you of treating her like a servant. It was the same with any task you asked of her.

You remembered the grief of losing your own parents too young and tried to give her space and understanding but your patience was wearing thin.

“I wouldn’t have to do laundry if you had just let me work in the saloon.” You bite your tongue and carefully pour the water into the big pot on the stove top. It was not worth it to argue with the girl. “I could be making $50 dollars a night.” She exclaimed hotly at you, “He told me men would pay $1 for a dance from a pretty girl like me.” She stomps over to get in your face. “You are keeping me from supporting my siblings.”

It was actually Jake who had threatened the saloon owner into rescinding his offer to employ Emma, forcing her to move into your home with her siblings, but now is not the time to bring that up.

Scoffing, you raise your chin to meet her eyes. Despite her youth she was a few inches taller than you. “If you believe that you are more foolish than I ever was at your age.” You watch her cheeks flush as she draws back. “No dance hall girl is going to make $1 a dance anymore. Maybe twenty years ago but there are too many women in the county for men to be willing to pay that.”

“You’re just jealous.” She replies, her jaw clenched.

‘Of what?” You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. There have been many times in your life that you have been envious. This was nowhere near any of them.

“That I am young and beautiful. If I was working in the saloon I’d be a dance hall girl. You are an old woman who steals children from their families. If you were working in the saloon you would be a dried up old whore who didn’t need to worry about getting pregnant.”

Emma’s vindictive smile leaves her face the second your hand makes contact and a part of you revels in the shock on her face. “If you were working in the saloon you would have been slapped weeks ago for your attitude.” you tell her coldly.

“Who do you think does the washing for the whores?” Her hand is pressed to her cheek and she stares at you mutely. “The dance hall girls do the washing because they can’t afford to live off the money they get for dancing. The owner will charge you for rent, food, and force you to pay for clothing to wear while you dance, soon you will be in his debt.”

You take a deep breath and continue now that you are on a roll. “If you are lucky some man will come along and take a liking to you and be willing to pay your debts and marry you.” Some of the defiance has left Emma’s expression. “I know this will happen because I have seen it.”

With some of her bravado returned, Emma looks you in the eye and asks, “Is that what happened to you and the Sheriff?”

You laugh bitterly. “No, I was not one of the lucky few who escaped with their virtue intact.” You tell her honestly. “Once you work as a dance hall girl no one will hire you. With no money to leave town most end up on their backs. It pays more than dancing, but the owners of the brothel will always find more fees to charge you to keep you in their debt.”

Emma stares at her feet as you continue. “The easiest way out is death at that point. Every night you will think of the choices you made that took you to this point and think about how ashamed you folks would be if they lived to see what you have become.” At your final words you hear Emma sniffle and turn to run to the bedroom she shared with her sisters.

At the slamming of the door you let out a shaky breath and whip the tear gathered in your eye. You don’t like talking about your past. Jake knew of course, but no one else in town did. As far as anyone knows you have always been the respectful wife of a lawman.

The water on the stove is hot so you dump it into the wash bin and grab the bucket to go fill the pot for the next batch. You don’t know if Emma will reveal your secret to the town. While filling up another bucket at the pump, regret creeps in. You wish you hadn't slapped her. You are not a violent person at heart and had previously only struck others in self defence.

Maybe the slap was necessary. Maybe it was the only way you would be able to get through to the girl and have her realize that her ideas of working as a dancing girl were ludacris. You sigh and set to work washing the laundry of eight people by yourself.

– – –

Dinner that night is quiet. The boys talking about the adventures they had gotten into outside and the little girls talking about the birthday party they had gone to in town.

You try to behave naturally as you eat your dinner but Jakes notices the difference in you and Emma’s sullen expression as she pushes her food around her plate. When you meet his eyes you can see the question in them. At a subtle shake of your head he doesn’t comment but you know you will have to tell him.

– – –

“I don’t think she will say anything.” Jake says quietly later that night as his rough fingers trace circles on your thigh. You make a soft sound in disbelief. “She won’t,” he insists, “She’s just embarrassed by her ignorance.”

“We’ll have to wait and see.” You try to put the thought out of your head. You had built a reputation in this town as a respectable woman. You would hate to see it ruined.

– – –

In the weeks that follow you carefully monitor the townspeople's reactions to you. Every exchange is judged and replayed in your head, looking for any changes in behaviour. But you notice nothing outside of normal.

Your interactions with the oldest child in your house have changed. The fight has gone out of Emma. At first it was a relief not to argue over everything but as the weeks become a month you begin to worry. She is still loving towards her siblings but a deep sense of grief seems to permeate her.

It is wash day when you finally get her alone again. The little girls are tasked with filling the buckets but based on the time they have been gone you are sure they got sidetracked by the new foal in the pen near the pump. You are struggling to find something to say when Emma speaks first. “Did your parents die too?”

Momentarily shocked it takes you a moment to answer. “Tuberculosis. My parents and my baby sister all died.” You look at her as she raises her eyes to yours and you can see tear drops clinging to the lashes.

“Does the pain ever go away?” You can hear her breaths becoming ragged as you answer.

“Yes and no.” You tell her honestly. “It is always there but life continues and other things begin to take up space in your mind and your heart.” You watch the girl crumple before you.

“I don’t want them to be ashamed of me!” She cried out. When you go to place a hand on her shoulder, she flings her arms around you and you find yourself hugging the weeping girl. “All I wanted to do was to protect them and keep them together.” Without words to say you stand there holding her making soft shushing noises.

When her sobs slow to a sniffle you guide her to a chair. “I was just so afraid that we would all be split up and the people who took them would treat my brothers like slaves and not take care of my little sisters.”

“I know.” You say as you sit opposite her gently squeezing the hand that still clung to yours. “And your parents know that any choice you made was for your siblings and their safety.” You give her a kind smile. “They can not be ashamed of that.”

You sit in silence watching the emotions pay across Emma’s face as your words sink in. “Do you think your parents are ashamed of the things you’ve done?”

Unlike her comments from before there is no malice in Emma’s question and you regard her thoughtfully before answering. “At the time I did,” you let your mind drift into the past. “But now I don’t. I’m older now than they will ever be, and have been for quite some time.” You give her a rueful grin and she ducks her head in embarrassment, remembering her previous comments on your age.

“When you are young it is so easy to see the world in black and white, right and wrong. But as you get older you begin to see the world in shades of grey.” You get up and pour each of you a cup of tea from the kettle you keep on the stove. “Sometimes good people must do bad things to survive. And bad people are known to do good things.”

You hand her her cup and return to your seat across from her. “Which one was the Sheriff?” At her question you pause and regard her carefully.

“Why do you ask?”

She blushes slightly before answering. “There’s this rumour in town that he used to be an outlaw, no one really believes it.”

“You hear the little girls coming up the steps with their water buckets. “No,” You give her a crooked smile. “Jake has always been one of the good ones.”

#jake seresin #hangman #jake seresin/reader #hangman/reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #topgun maverick

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amunyan · 2 months ago

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I got the Feeling that I only write Fanfics about my fav Charakters from Black Clover. Unsure how I should feel about this 🫠😵‍💫 but I also think they got way to less Screentime in the original Work. (At least for my taste 😜)

So having the Idea of a modern AU for Christmas in mind, I wrote this little prequel. I hope you like it:)

The Day we meet - Welcome to Clover-City

A modern Black Clover AU

The mechanical voice out the loudspeakers tells you once again to get off the tram - last stop.

But it takes a few more moments before you open your eyes and exit the vehicle with a yawn. Its doors close impatiently behind you, as if they were just waiting for you, before the train starts moving again towards its well-deserved end of the day.

With your eyes half open and a blank expression on your face, you look around you. "This isn't my station," you say, yawning again. Still calm, you try to process the new location. But only until you realise that you've completely overslept your home station. Your eyes widen in fear and shock.

"Shit...", you curse in your head. “This is not real, isn’t it?”

But checking the name of the station again doesn’t help – it is true.

“Why can't I have the magical ability to wake up when I need to? My dear colleague Dorothy doesn't even know how blessed she is". In fact, most of the times she even wakes you up because you both have to get off at the same station and you wouldn’t even notice without her. Best example; The current situation.

But today Dorothy was sick and you were all alone on the train home. You had to work overtime again, even though you only started your new job a few weeks ago. Like a new year, a new me and in conclusion of that; a new job in a new city... And with Dorothy sick, there was even more work to do.

While studying the timetable - realising that your home station was over seven stops ago – and hoping for another train in the opposite direction, you hear a train approaching the station, but on the opposite platform. You pay not really attention to it, and only when the train leaves, you realise that it would have been yours. Not only this – it was the last one for the day. You watch the train silently as it disappears into the darkness before your frustration gets the better of you. "Damn it", you curse loudly and stomp on the ground.

As this was the last train of the day, you had to walk - for better or worse - and for a moment, as you pulled out your mobile phone, you thought about calling your neighbour, Vanessa. "She would be awake - for sure. But I'm not sure she's still sober..."

So you press your finger on the icon for the navigation app to see how far you have to walk to get home."About an hour...", you mumble with an almost disappointed groan. "Fine. I wanted to exercise more anyway."

You close your coat as a cold wind blows through the almost empty station. "Let's start with 10,000 steps in the cold night. Probably good for my immune system too."

Laughing at your own grim sense of humour, you leave the station.

You have been walking for about 15 minutes, having passed through a dimly lit park and now wandering down a residential street - looking around and admiring the old, industrial-looking houses - when you notice a couple of creepy figures coming towards you.

You swallow and your inner voice takes on a conspiratorial tone. "Our mummy told us about this. One reason why she was worried when we left the big city."

The three people, two men and a woman, walk straight towards you. While the muscular man with tanned skin and sandy light-coloured hair, reminiscent of a giant, and the petite woman hold back, the black-haired man stares at you strangely with tired eyes.

"This is not a silly little story," you try to convince yourself, trying to ignore the glares. "This is the big city. There are strange people walking around. They'll ignore me and that'll be the end of the encounter..."

You take a deep breath to calm yourself as your foot bumps into something. Unexpectedly, you lose your balance and fall to the ground.

"What's that? How clumsy. Young lady, may I help you up?"

The man with the black hair looks at you with amusement - his companions are giggling as well - as he holds out his hand to help you. But you notice there's a mischievous glint in his eyes and shake your head: "Thanks, but I can get up on my own."

With your eyes averted, you try to get up quickly. "I'm sure that guy did this on purpose," you think to yourself. "I should get away from them. They really don’t seem very friendly…"

"That's very rude," the giant comments on your action, coming frighteningly close. "He offers to help you and you refuse. My friend is very sad now."

The black-haired friend nods, exaggeratedly offended.

"He tripped me up. He doesn't have to be so friendly," you grumble, narrowing your eyes.

But the giant doesn't seem to like it. His face contorts in anger and he slams into the garden wall next to you. A few small stones and sand drizzle to the ground.

"Well. That escalated quickly," you mutter to yourself as the man shouts at you.

"So you're accusing my dear friend of tripping you? Even though you are too clumsy to walk on your own?"

"Well, I..."

"Can you prove that?" Now the young woman, who had just looked at the situation with blank eyes, says something. Brushes a strand of her strikingly pink hair behind her ear as she continues to chew her gum.

"Um...?!" You are about to open your mouth, but she is right. You can't prove anything. It was just a strong suspicion that wasn't backed up by anything solid. And yet you can see from their faces that you are right.

"Looks like I'm going to have to teach the little one some manners," the giant laughs grimly and raises his right fist.

“Crap - there goes my pretty face,” you think to yourself and duck away, shielding your head and closing your eyes. Waiting for the burning pain of his blow. “If he can smash a brick wall, I can collect my bones in the garden of this house, whose garden walls he has already smashed”.

"Hey? Why are you being so rude?" A rough female voice sounds close to your ear. "Leave the girl alone. She hasn't done anything.”

Still feeling no bone-crushing pain, you carefully dare to open one eye. To your left you notice a woman with wild, red, curly hair and a fierce look in her eyes. Her right hand held protectively in front of you, blocking the giant's fist.

"Help?! She seriously stopped that rock crushing fist. With just one hand?" You swallow, not knowing if you should be impressed or scared. But sure you are relieved that she's probably on your side.

"The little girl falsely accused my friend," the giant explains with conviction. "She needs to be taught a lesson in respect."

"I think I need to teach you some manners. I've seen you provoke the girl. Besides, the three of you are already minor celebrities in this neighbourhood; you've already annoyed my brothers and their friends. You even seriously injured one of them."

"That wasn't really us," the man with the black hair tries to get out of the affair. The young woman nods in agreement, her gaze still fixed, chewing her gum and even blowing a bubble. She does not really seem to understand the situation. Or she simply doesn’t care.

"I don't give a shit about your excuses," your supposed saviour complains, now clenching her hands into fists of her own. She cracks her knuckles and gives them an almost maniacal look that also makes your skin crawl. Unconsciously, you also take a few steps backwards, through a flowerbed that isn't quite as pretty as it used to be, until you bump into a wall and can't go any further.

"Run. I'll give you a 5-second head start," she threatens the three of them, starting to count backwards from 5 loudly and slowly.

The giant begins to grin happily and says that he wouldn't mind a bit of a fight.

"Neither would I," replies the woman, and for a moment it looked as if she was going to stop counting and go straight for the fight.

But just as they are about to do so, the other man's eyes widen. Startled, he grabs his buddy's muscular upper arm and whispers something in his direction. "Wait! I know that woman. She was a national martial arts champion years ago. She retired, after nobody wants to fight her anymore. But is still considered as the strongest. They still call her the uncrowned undefeated lioness …”

"Uncrowned undefeated lioness?” Far in the back of your mind, that nickname rings a bell. You are not really sure but you might know her…

"Even better," the giant laughs, but the other pulls him on.

"We'd better get out of here. But," he lookes at the lioness with an obscene grin that sent shivers down your spine. "To make up for this unpleasant scene, I'll take you to dinner."

“I don't need a little shrimp, like you, to pay for my food, she replies.

“Oh, what a pity. But come on, Vetto - let's go. I don't want to have to put up with this lady."

Within seconds, the three of them had disappeared into the night beneath Vetto wall of complaints.

"Um, thanks," you mumble quietly, and are about to start home when the red-haired woman blocks your way.

"And now for you."

"Wuahh", you jump up like a cat, only to find yourself crouched against the wall moments later as the she now leans over you. As she gets closer to your face, you notice not only her watercolour blue eyes, but also a distinct red eyeliner that makes her a little more sinister.

"How come you can't stand up to flatpipes like that?"

"Um... I... I'm not usually here? And...?" Your eyes wander restlessly, wondering what you've gotten yourself into and whether she'd accept the excuse that you're just a weak little woman. But not even you would accept that sort of excuse. You have spent too long in a martial arts club at your old home. "The three of them surprised me...”, you just say. “I don't react as fast as I did in my glory days".

"Your glory days?" She looks at you questioningly, one of her bushy eyebrows rose. You have to stifle a small sigh before you explain that you were once a martial artist yourself. "But that was a long time ago. In between there was university, work and now a job change. And the new job is really exhausting. So I didn't know that here in Clover City there are actually petty criminals who provoke you at kindergarten level".

"Well, you're funny," she laughed, grunting as she takes a small step back and holds out her hand. Unlike the guy just now, you accept her help with a slight smile on your lips.

"Mereoleona Vermillion," she introduces herself, still holding your hand.

“I knew it was you”, you smile and Mereoleona looks at you in confusion. “Like… I know you from my time, when I was totally into material arts and so on. You were a big name back then. Everyone in my club wanted to fight you - including me. But as soon as I was old enough to fight in the same league, you left". You rub the back of your head and look away, blushing. "And now you have saved me... a bit embarrassingly. And... oh?!" You look back at her. "Sorry - I should introduce myself too; (Y/N)."

"You know what? If you want to fight me so badly, let's meet again. Like next week. "

"What?!"

You can't react fast enough as she takes your mobile phone, which you're still holding in your hand, and taps on it. Then she takes out her own mobile phone and taps on it too.

"If you have any problems, you can always contact me." With a meaningful smile, she hands your phone back to you by way of saying goodbye. Perplexed, you are left alone and stare at your phone. "She actually gave me her number?" you mutter in disbelief. The next moment, the phone rings and you almost drop it in shock.

"Don't forget! Wednesday next week, at 8:30pm!" Reads the message. The phone rings again and she has also sent you the address where you can meet her again.

Nestled between a cute flower shop and a vintage launderette, the modern-looking martial arts school seems a little out of place. Especially with the two grumpy looking men with some sort of extravagant hairstyles standing in front of it. Nervously, you look around and double-check the address. But you are right. This is the address Mereoleona sent you a week ago.

"Maybe she's waiting inside?"

Under the grumpy eyes of the men, you walk hesitantly towards the entrance to reach for the door handle.

"There's nothing more going on here today." You jump at the sound of a gruff voice and turn around. The two men look at you sternly and the one with the long blond hair and prominent beard says: "We're just waiting for one of our mates and then we'll leave.”

"I see," you say, taking another step away from the door. Check it yet again. "But... she wanted me to come here. For sure." You tap your phone once more, checking the time and location, as the two guys come over to you. They might feel sorry for you. Maybe? Surely they have pity on you, a little bundle of misery who does not know what to do now.

"Who do you want to see?" asks the one with the light brown hair.

"Maybe we can help," offers the other, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Well, um..." you shyly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and show them the message from Mereoleona. She hasn't written since last week, but her text didn't seem to be a joke. "Mereoleona invited me somehow. I should have been here at 8:30pm for a training?"

“Oh no. Not her…”

"Not the big sister of Fuegoleon..." Both men almost freeze in fear when they learn who the message is from.

“Huh? What is wrong with her?”

But you get no response. The two men, who seemed strong and even scary themselves a moment ago, don't seem to fully understand the information that you are here to meet Mereoleona. They just shake their heads in disbelief.

An uncomfortable feeling creeps up on you, like a cold hand quietly gripping you.

"Girl," the guy with the ponytail leans closer to you. "Run - as long as you can."

At the same moment, you feel a hand on your shoulder and a cold shiver runs down your spine.

"Ruben? Why are you telling my girl to run?"

"Mereoleona..." The man with the long brown hair stammers. "I... I..."

But she ignores him. She looks down at you, a bright smile on her lips. "Hey, (Y/N). Sorry to keep you waiting." Then her gaze wanders back to the two guys, no longer surrounding you, but still waiting in front of the building. "And you? What are you still doing here? I thought your training was over?"

Just as they were about to answer, the lights in the building went out and the door swung open. A young man who reminded you of Mereoleona with his long auburn hair and similar features stepped out into the night, talking to another man who looked a little older than him.

"Yes, that would be a good idea for the next training... Hm? Sister?" His eyes meet Mereoleonas. "What are you doing here? You don't have classes today, do you?"

"Not really," she answers, looking at you with a meaningful smile. "I'm just testing her a bit before I put her in one of my groups."

"Wait? Her groups? Does that mean she is the trainer?" Now it's your turn to go into a bit of shock stares.

"Oh... I see." The brother and the other man step aside to let you two in. But not only they, the other guys look at you with a sympathetic expression. As if you were about to take your last steps.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). I will be gentle with you. Mereoleona says, still with her smile on her lips. Not knowing that her words could easily be misunderstood...

But you just nod silently, never expecting that she would be the one to train you.

With a frightened look on your face, you enter the building - not knowing what you have gotten yourself into...

To be continued...

#black clover #creative wrting #x reader #mereoleona vermillion #i dont know what i am doing #x fem!reader #fanfic

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argisthebulwark · 11 months ago

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Happy week number two of @tescheer folks!!✨ I know that this is not entirely canon compliant but I am too obsessed with the idea of a New Years kiss with Brynjolf to care <3 This is another prompt combo - Kiss and Party :)

With each second that passed, they grew closer to the closing of that disastrous year. The Guild Master was tucked securely into her chair and attempted her sternest expression in case anyone happened to look her way. While the festivities were exciting, they were no excuse to fall behind in her work. Recruits needed fresh armor, new training dummies needed to be procured, and she had a meeting with the Black Briars that she'd yet to prepare for. Sweeping a hand over her table she grabbed a list of jobs yet to be assigned - a meeting with Delvin and Vex would certainly be added to her ever growing to-do list.

Another round of laughter interrupted her thoughts. The Guild Master's gaze tracked around the tavern and felt something tugging in her chest - thieves gathered around the bar, drinks half finished and heads thrown back in laughter. It felt like a lifetime ago that she'd been part of their group, free from the constant weight of responsibility she now bore.

When she'd been awarded with the position of Guild Master it had felt like such an honor, a reward for what she'd endured. As the months dragged by she'd begun to realize why no one else was eager for the job. Mercer had enough thieving to last them a lifetime, which left her with little more than a never ending pile of paperwork and a persistent headache.

"C'mon, lass." Brynjolf placed a mug of ale atop her list and the Guild Master grit her teeth. "Celebrate with us."

"I have tasks to finish." She attempted to wave him off, though a hand around her wrist stopped whatever protest came next. Brynjolf's cheeks were slightly pink and his armor was unbuckled to reveal a dark shirt. Despite her best efforts she hadn't been able to stomp out that damned crush on him. It had stuck around since that first fateful encounter. The smile on his lips seemed to melt away all her worries when he guided her out of the chair.

"It's almost the new year." He countered and she knew her resolve wouldn't last. She tried to remain wary but the excited chatter only grew as an ancient clock ticked down the seconds. The Guild Master's head felt fuzzy when Brynjolf's hand rested on her lower back, guiding her deeper into the crowd. Surrounded by old friends and new recruits, she allowed herself a moment of relaxation.

"Been one hell of a year." Delvin's gruff voice cut through the rest, all conversations quieting. The Guild Master's cheeks burned when he raised his mug and nodded in her direction. "But with the help of Brynjolf and his favorite little recruit, we've finally righted the ship."

Brynjolf's rich laugh warmed her heart. He remained close and bore an easy smile she'd seen less often during the past few weeks. He looked comfortable, like he could finally relax. A large hand patted her on the shoulder the Guild Master's stomach sank as all eyes turned to her. She prayed that they wouldn't expect a motivational speech.

"Choosin’ you is still the best decision I’ve ever made." His voice dripped with sentimentality and breathing became difficult. His gaze always knocked her off balance, heart skittering out of control and hands clumsy when he looked at her. She tended to ignore the childish crush, stuffing feelings down until they became easy to avoid. But as the last minute of their tumultuous year slipped away it was dangerously easy to grow closer to him, those old feelings bubbling to the surface.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

"I should get back to work." She breathed, enticed by the way Brynjolf had drifted closer. Bodies jostled as thieves joined in on a chant, counting down until the beginning of a new year.

"Seven! Six!"

"Is that what you want?" His words were heavy with another meaning she couldn't hope to discern. The Guild Master's throat ran dry when she recalled the old tradition - the myth that kissing your partner as the clock struck midnight heralded a prosperous new year. Brynjolf's deep green eyes took in every move she made and she knew she could reject him now, could flee to her desk and hide behind her work.

"Five!"

"No." She answered finally, hands trembling at her sides. Someone's elbow jabbed into her back as they hurried past, sending her stumbling closer to Brynjolf.

"Four!"

"What do you want then, lass?" Deep and sultry, his words broke the last of her resolve.

"Three! Two!"

Her eyes fluttered closed and her heart sang when she swallowed against the cowardly urge to back out. She'd sold her soul to a Daedric Prince and faced off against unbeatable foes, she could be brave for this one moment.

"One!"

Kissing him was messy, arms flung around his shoulders and noses bumping together. He tasted like ale but the Guild Master paid it no mind. Brynjolf's hands steadied her, chuckling into the kiss. One strong arm wrapped around her waist and she was in heaven, Brynjolf's lips moving so easily against hers. It was better than all those little fantasies that had floated around in her mind over the years, clumsy yet perfect. Somewhere off in the distance she heard someone hollering her name but nothing mattered other than his kiss.

She didn't open her eyes when he pulled away, forehead pressed to hers. A soft kiss landed on her overheated cheek but she couldn't look quite yet. Her cheeks burned when she heard one of the thieves wolf whistling and fought to stay in this blissful little moment with Brynjolf.

"Hell of a way to start the new year."

#writing #skyrim #tescheer2023 #week two: kiss #week two: party #tescheer #brynjolf

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year ago

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Bloodline: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: Never have you heard of a family killing together, and never have you heard of generation of families killing together. Yet here you are.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

There is no doubt that it is around the family and the home that all the greatest virtues, the most dominating virtues of human society, are created, strengthened and maintained." - Winston Churchill

The last case was a rush because they called you in after three women were dead, but this time is different. Alabama PD discovered a family killed inside their home and immediately called your team in due to the brutality of the murders. You didn't even have time to talk in the briefing room since this is a top-priority case.

After everyone gets settled on the plane, the meeting starts. JJ is still on maternity leave, but Jordan doesn't want to do this job anymore. Not after the case with Norman, the guy who was killing people with his sawed-off shotgun after they cut him off while driving. She got a look into how brutal the job can be and decided it isn't for her.

However, JJ has one more week until she's back so this will be Jordan's last case.

A family was found murdered inside their home at one in the morning, and their ten-year-old daughter is missing. Cases involving children are always the hardest because most children don't survive within the first twenty-four hours of being kidnapped. Cate is ten years old, but that doesn't mean she's safe from being murdered like the rest of her family.

You have about half a day to find her alive.

"We got the links of the crime scene photos." Jordan pulls up the photos of the family who was killed. "This is Geoff and Nancy Hale with both their throats cut."

"Is there any evidence of abuse?"

"No."

"Slitting someone's throat is quick and efficient."

"That's because the real target was down the hall," Emily says.

"She has a name," Jordan snaps. "She's not 'the target'. Her name is Cate and she's ten years old."

Tension is thick, but Rossi keeps the conversation moving along as if this didn't happen.

"Is an amber alert in effect?"

"Since seven this morning."

"With the unsub's head start he could be anywhere within a four-hundred-mile radius. Make sure that they're casting a wide enough net. Who discovered the bodies?"

"Jim Scheuren, Cate's biological father. He was supposed to take her for the weekend. The police don't consider him a suspect."

"We'll want to talk to him anyway. We're also going to need a list of registered sex offenders in a twenty-mile radius."

"What's the makeup of the Hales' neighborhood?" Spencer asks.

"Mostly white and middle class."

"We'll need aerial views of the neighborhood. If Madison County doesn't have them, talk to Garcia. Dave, you, Y/N, and Morgan go to the crime scene. The rest of us will get up to speed at the precinct."

Once landed, everyone broke into their own little groups with you heading out with Derek and Rossi. The Hales' neighborhood is a series of rural roads and one-block streets. It's about three miles to the nearest main street, so he didn't happen upon Cate by accident. Her father, Jim, might not have been the one to do this, but he might know who did.

In the meantime, you arrive at Cate's house which is covered with police personnel and yellow caution tape. You don't have to get out of the car to feel the tragedy that happened here. Since this happened just last night, there are different colored energies pouring out of the place.

The detective on the case sees you arrive and walks over to greet you.

"Bo Whitaker," he shakes hands with Rossi.

"David Rossi. This is Derek Morgan and Y/N."

"Pleased to meet you. The point of entry is around the back. The neighbors didn't see or hear anything, and the dogs lost the scent almost immediately."

"It's not hard to target a family out here."

"Yeah, even in broad daylight. If you walk five feet off the track, you could get lost for days. He had plenty of time and privacy to watch what he was really after."

There is a tire swing in the front yard, and Cate's energy is swirling around it since she really loved that swing. The energy is strong enough for it to take her form, and you're the only one who can see her. She has a smile on her face as if nothing bad could ever happen to her.

You look away in sadness and hope that she is alright.

"I prefer cities. You can see them coming," Rossi comments.

Bo takes you to the window the killer came in through, and there is not only one energy stemming from it, there are three. You head inside the house and see the pane of the door knocked in when they tried to kick the door in. That's when they used the window to get in. There are three energies inside the house: red, blue, and yellow. That can only mean one thing--the murderers are a whole family.

"Do you think the girl's dead?" Bo asks.

"It depends on what he took her for."

"I don't think we're looking for one unsub," you say. "We're looking for a family. There are three different energies inside the house, not including the family who lived here. There are three different energies stemming from that broken window. One red, one blue, and one yellow. One male, one female, and one child."

"How do you know this?" Bo asks.

"I'm a psychic. I see the energies of the killers."

You leave their side without hearing Bo's response, but you do hear Derek back you up. You're the real deal, and they trust you wholeheartedly. You walk into the master bedroom where the parents were found, and there is blood all over the walls, bed, and even the ceiling. There are two people in the bed with their throats cut, but you know they're not real. Derek heads over to Cate's room to examine it, eventually joining you and Rossi in the master bedroom.

"Find anything in Cate's room?" Rossi asks Derek.

"That's what's weird. There's no sign of struggle. It didn't even look like she tried to get out of bed in a hurry."

"Her parents' throats were cut. If there was the element of surprise, they might not have had time to scream," you say.

"Both of them?"

Since you can see the parents and their wounds, you can determine what might have happened last night.

"So both parents don't have any ligature marks, and neither of them are tied down. There are no defensive wounds either. Geoff's cause of death was a single deep, smooth cut that severed the carotid artery. Nancy's cause of death was caused by a series of jagged, shallow wounds that punctured the carotid artery."

"There's more than one unsub, like you said," Derek says.

"Are you guys sure?" Bo asks.

"It makes sense. If there was only one unsub, then he would have had to restrain Nancy while he killed Geoff. Since there are no ligature marks on either of them, then that means he didn't restrain them. If he killed Geoff without restraining her, and she woke up, then she would have screamed. It would have alerted the entire family. We're looking at multiple unsubs."

"So, things are worse than we thought."

"Yes and no. Cate's chances of survival just got better. Two or more unsubs change the dynamics."

"What do you mean, dynamics?"

"They spend more time with her," Rossi sighs.

Derek calls Hotch to let him know while you go into the bathroom to see what kind of motive there might have been for taking Cate. You look inside the medicine cabinet and see something that makes Cate's chances of survival go right down to almost zero.

"I found something here." You walk out of the bathroom holding a pill bottle. "Cate has seizures, and if the unsubs find out about this, they might kill her."

With this new information, you head back to the police station to discuss what this might mean. Hotch pulls you off to the side, and you hand him the pill bottle you took from the scene.

"Give me your honest opinion on what your theory is."

"Based on the energies I saw at the house, I believe a family of three killed Cate's family. A mom, a dad, and a young son. They're killing everyone but a young daughter to maybe complete their family. Maybe they can't have more kids and want to be a family of four, or maybe their real daughter died and they're trying to replace her. It's the only theory I have right now."

"It's a theory nonetheless."

"If my theory is correct, and they find out Cate has seizures, then she isn't perfect. She could be dumped somewhere or killed. Either way, I have a feeling we'll know tomorrow."

And tomorrow you found out. Cate was dumped on the side of the road with her feet and hands bound, but she is very much alive. She was taken to the hospital immediately just as they contacted her father. Since she got medical care so soon, she's going to be fine. She is the best person to talk to about this kind of stuff, and since you can use her trauma to paint a picture, then you're going to talk to her.

"Her father's with her," the nurse says when your team arrives. "She's been in and out of consciousness but her vitals are stable."

"Any sign of sexual assault?" you ask.

"We haven't tested yet. We want to give her time to process."

"May we speak with her?"

"Sure. You should know, seizures often come with retrograde amnesia. She might have holes in her memory."

"Y/N, you should do this alone," Hotch says.

You knock on Cate's door before entering. Poor thing looks so scared, but you're going to do everything you can to make her feel comfortable and safe.

"Hello, Mr. Scheuren. I'm Agent Y/N from the FBI. I would like permission to speak with your daughter."

"Okay."

He doesn't move from her side, and you clasp your hands in front of you.

"I'd like to do this alone, if possible."

"Why?"

"I need to ask her certain questions, and sometimes it's easier for a girl to answer those questions when there are no men present."

"I'm her father," he gets upset.

"Daddy, please?"

"Alright, baby," he sighs. "I'll be right outside."

"Thank you." As soon as he leaves, you take a seat next to Cate and give her a kind smile. "My name is Y/N. I'm so sorry about your mom and your stepdad. I'd like to ask you some questions so we can find out who did this. Is that okay?"

"Yeah."

"Do you mind if I hold your hand?"

"No."

You hold her hand and place your other one over hers.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, and it's going to be about the things you sensed--things you saw, felt, etc."

"I'm scared."

"I know you are. It's okay to be scared. I'm right here with you. Just close your eyes, okay? What's the first thing you remember?"

She closes her eyes and you use her words to help paint a picture of what happened to her or where she might have been.

"It's cold, like outside cold."

"Okay, who's there?"

"A man. He told me to keep quiet."

"What is he doing?"

"He's holding my hand. It hurts. He's waiting for something."

"What does he look like?"

There is a much older white man with her with blood on his face. This happened after he got done killing Cate's parents. He's mean, balding at the top, and has a hint of a mustache that looks freshly shaved. It's a vague description, but it's the only thing you see right now.

"I don't want to be here," Cate whimpers.

"He can't hurt you, Cate, I promise. I'm right here."

"He's tall with dark hair. He's old."

"Old like me?"

"Old like my dad."

"Is anyone else there?"

"Someone's coming! Y/N! Y/N, help me!!"

The old man grabs Cate and slings her over his shoulder. She tries to fight him, but her hands are tied together. A car approaches and pops the trunk from the inside, and the unsub shoves Cate into the trunk.

"Cate, you're right here with me. I promise he can't hurt you. It's okay."

"He put me in the trunk of the car."

"How long were you in there?"

"Not long. Maybe ten minutes."

"Was the ride bumpy or smooth?"

"It was smooth." That tells you the roads they took are main roads instead of back ones. If they took the main road, then someone might have seen the car. "I wanted to scream, but no sound would come out."

"You're doing really good, Cate. Once the car stopped and they opened the trunk, what did you hear?"

"Wind through the trees."

The man takes Cate out of the trunk and drags her into some kind of trailer house before stuffing her inside a small space like a closet.

"What do you smell?"

"Cooking. I'm inside now. They've taken my shoes off."

"It's so you don't run. I want you to look down at your feet and tell me what you're standing on."

"Carpet. I'm in a little room with clothes and tinfoil all around me."

"What else?"

"I hear bells."

"What kind of bells?"

"Small ones like a fairy. Every time they ring, the man says something to the boy."

She must mean the young son whose energy you saw inside the house.

"How old is he?"

"Nine or ten, I'd say. His parents want me to play with him. They're calling him puyule, whatever that means."

The closet door opens and the young boy tries to take Cate out of the closet. His parents encourage her to come out to spend time with her, but she doesn't want to go.

"Y/N, I don't want to go. No! Don't make me go! Y/N!"

"Cate, it's okay. You're right here next to me. Open your eyes." She does, and you pat the back of her hand with a smile. "See? We're in the hospital. He can't hurt you anymore. You did so well. I'm going to send your dad back in here, okay? You just rest now."

"Okay," she sniffles.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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rgr-pop · 6 months ago

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we had literally just had a user services meeting where my supervisor said the library decided not to put any high time sensitive stacks project on the agenda for the summer. she was like please use your vacation time!

the next monday at 3pm our director read our meeting notes, became mad, and decided unilaterally to assign us (just me and my supervisor plus my students if i have them) to shift the whole general collection by august starting now. more or less out or nowhere (i spent last summer and fall outliningwhat we’d need to do and getting trained up while i was creating a whole oversize collection from scratch but was told up til a few weeks ago that it wouldn’t go on the calendar—primarily because we don’t have the staff.)

we asked for the plan and he said “shifting ldoesn’t need a plan. just move the books. distribute the evenly across the shelves with each shelf at 60-75% fill capacity.” (WHICH and okay math?)

please if you’ve ever planned or participated in a collection shift chime in. not sure i can possibly explain how deranged this is

fun fact TS isn’t sure how many volumes are in our collection due to not being inventoried in about a decade. the director didn’t have a sense within 10,000 of how many books he was asking us to move even if a shift was just moving books from one location to another (it’s not). we were gonna focus on missing and inventory over the summer (fun fact we have a missing list about SEVEN PERCENT OF THE COLLECTION!!!) it’s good practice to always measure the materials on the shelf for a shift but it’s essential when you don’t have a well maintained collection— the other way we would make the estimation of how to distribute a collection evenly would be to use a formula estimating volumes per linear inch in various collection types. but again we have a 7% missing collection lmao

so over the past two and a half workdays i’ve been working a 10 page project plan all by myself — planning stacks projects is not my job. i’m still a clerk with some extra technical duties on paper. i make about 24k in a year working part time. the people doing this task at msu make 2-3 times what i make. there are two administrators above me, one who is lying about the work itself and being insane (also the worst at his job or anyone alive), the other doesn’t know how to do any of this. and she’s dedicated herself to getting caught up and this makes me feel a million times better but in theory on principle i should not do this (he will make me “move the books” regardless sooo)

we have this thing in my unit called responsibility dollars you can apply for to get a small bonus for a project outside your job description. if i was full time i would be eligible for an extra $3.25 or so, but as part time i can only get $1.20. so onward requesting my $33 per week summer stipend.. my director might block admin from approving it because he doesn’t believe a plan is required. i should just move the books! (google how to plan a library shift if you’re interested in my work)

anyway the problem is that i really enjoy doing this and would love to do a good job at it. it’s not happening in august lol be real. what rows this man want us speed shelving for. TO WHAT END?? WHY?? i will see this through and start applying to archives jobs—the real core of the “thrown into the most chaotic situation imaginable and plan a lil system” field—it’s what i’m good at and i’m putting this stupid shit in my portfolio. all i actually want is to not have my work openly disrespected by a man who wants the library to literally crumble because he hates queer people so much ! he still by the way refuses to speak directly to me or read anything i produce 🤷‍♀️

my supervisor texted me this morning at 11 am asking me if i was at work (i was in the staff kitchen and didn’t see it til hours later bc i was AT WORK not ON MY PHONE and she didn’t use work communication) so now i’m paranoid that they’re watching my time, which is insane bc i’m so much more productive… he tried this last year too around the incident. challenged some hours i worked out of nowhere and said he didn’t remember me being here and i was like ok there’s nothing i can do to demonstrate that?? so i had to take hours i worked off my timecard. to my knowledge no one else but me is required to do time tracking or has had their time challenged —only Me who accused him of homophobic retaliation and got disciplined for it and can now get fired for any reaaaason :’) so anyway i worked til 11 pm monday and i will be here til 8 every night the rest of the week due to paranoia

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prettyhobii · 1 year ago

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HIRAETH CH-1

MDNI

Chapter two

Home. That's a word Song Nari never truly understood. She never had someone to call home, or somewhere that felt like home. No backup safety, no supportive family, just herself and her friends.

Barely having enough money to pay for her cigarette addiction along with drowning myself in alcohol, paying rent and don't even get started on buying food.

Sighing, Nari reaches into her draw and pulls out a half empty pack of Marlboro. Living alone now, atleast She don't have to deal with they nagging of Rosé, Jennie and Felix, her siblings telling her to stop smoking.

She lights up the cigarette, opening up the apartment window and stares out at the city below, which is still rumbling with life. People of all backgrounds out on the streets, some homeless, some partying, some running off to do a late night business meeting.

She never had a good life, even from the beginning. Her parents were constantly fighting with each other. The abuse she went through both mentally and physically was utter torture.

When she got her soulmarks on her fourteenth birthday, her father tried his best to get rid of them. Bleach and blades were used to cover up all seven marks that settled deep on her stomach. Each one distinct and unique from one another, her own mark, a small snowflake was circled by the rest, in a protective but symbolic carving of her own fate.

Her father hated the idea that he didn't have control over one final aspect in his daughters life. From that day, the beatings got periodically worse.

Two years later, Nari took her three younger siblings and ran. Stealing just enough money to settle herself in a small apartment at the mere age of sixteen, where the four of them lived for four years, in hiding from their parents.

That never changed, although miles and miles away from their family home, they could never truly stop hiding. Nari knew they were being hunted, and as the oldest and knew that she needed to protect them, and so she did.

She worked for them, giving them money every week, even though they seemed to be doing better then she was financially, Nari still gave them money every week without fail, just to be sure that they would be safe and healthy.

But now time was going on, and with each and everyday it got harder to keep up with rent, harder to pay the bills, harder to get food, harder to keep on going.

Nari began to struggle once again. Like years ago, she was drowning in her own mental health, feeling no escape, turning back into the bad habits she once swore to quit.

Cigarettes and booze became a daily thing, while cutting down on food to save herself some money got herself in trouble with not only her siblings, but the landlord aswell.

Two years ago Nari got a job with Min Ko, an secret strip club. For legal reasons, it definitely was not a strip club. But it was definitely a strip club.

Although she didn't strip herself, so to say. Most of her closest friends there did. She worked the bar, serving drinks, wearing the shortest and tightest clothes, basically selling herself for tips.

Occasionally you'd get the men and women in their early twenties wasting the occasional won, then you'd have rich Middle Ages men throwing thousands at them, for doing basically nothing. Not that they'd complain. Most of the men and women there needed the cash. Especially Nari.

"Are you okay?" Nari asked one of the newly employed girls, who she earlier learnt only just turned 18. She noddles slowly, although clearly her body said the opposite.

"Just because it's your job, doesn't mean you can't say no." Nari comforted, placing a reassuring hand on the girls back.

"I just felt so dirty Nari, the way he touched me. He didn't even ask first."

"Sit down, let me get you some water." Nari said, gesturing over to one of the staff couches, in the staffs sit down area. "Men are pigs. They all crave sex. But it's up to you to stick up for yourself and say no. If they don't stop, you kick them right in their balls, and tell them to fuck off."

The younger girl laughed, collecting the water that Nari just fixed up for her.

"It's hard when there is lots of them all at once."

Nari sighed, fixing herself a glass of water at the same time, "Lisa, you're a beautiful girl. Some day you won't need to be here anymore. You'll meet your soulmate, and money won't be a worry." She combed back a lose piece of the girls hair, tucking it behind her ear. "What do you want to do in the future?" Nari asked softly, "because I don't think you want to do this for the rest of your life."

Lisa smiled, looking down at her hands which cupped the glass of water, she took a sip quickly, "I want to be a singer." She sighed," I know that sounds a bit far fetched, but I auditioned last year, but I was too young, so they told me to try again this year," she smiled a little, "I'm only working here to survive. Living is so expensive, I need to buy food, clothes, travel expenses, you know." Her smile quickly disappeared, "it's hard."

Nari nodded, agreeing with what she just said. "How much is your rent?"

"400 a month, but I can afford it," she looked off to the side. Clearly a lie.

Nari sighed, turning to grab her bag from the hook behind her, which was full of the money she earned for the night. She gathered up 400 which she was going to use to pay her own rent, but instead put it in Lisa's hands.

"I can't take this. T-this is your money!" Lisa's eyes widened as she pushed the money back into Nari's hands.

"Take it. Or it's just going to go on the floor."

Lisa sighed, "thankyou so much."

"Go home, get some rest. You need it. I'll have a talk with Soomin, and let him know the situation."

Lisa nodded, bowing politely before grabbing her belongings and leaving the building.

"You keep sending my staff home Nari."

The stern voice caught the girl off guard, she quickly turned to see her boss, Soomin. A cruel, but genius man standing by the door frame.

"She needed to go home. Besides she's not even legal age." Nari states, giving off a 'I don't give a fuck' vibe, except she was terrified of not only losing her job, but her dignity to the man behind her. He would do it. He had no guilt. He slaved these women into sexual favors for a "promotion" and had no hard time firing them after he finished using them.

"You know, pretty soon I'm going to run out of whores, and eventually you're going to have to take their place."

He slowly made his way behind Nari, pushing into her behind as he grabbed her by the hips. Nari quickly turned around pushing him off of her. "I am not a toy. And neither are those girls. You treat us with respect." She spat with narrowed eyes. "Don't fucking touch me again."

Just as she began to storm off to get back to work, she stopped in her tracks when he continued on berating her.

"You know your little sisters aren't that bad looking, the club could use whores like them." He chuckled, "I know they need the money." He grinned at Nari, who wasn't facing him. "You wouldn't want that now would you?"

Nari's temper got worse by the second, the more he kept talking the more hate she felt for him. "What do you want."

"In the past four months you have gotten seven of my girls to quit. You need to take over their job. Times it by seven, and we'll be equal."

Nari turned silent. "I'll work extra shifts."

"That's not what I mean," Soomin said, his mouth forming a straight and intimidating frown. "From now on you will strip for our clients. For the same amount you're on now."

"Fuck off," Nari scowled, "I have dignity, unlike those poor girls yoy blackmailed into doing this shit. I could get you in prison, you know."

"And I could get your family killed. What's your point?"

"Stop bringing up my fucking family."

Soomin smiled, "go into the back, change into the outfit Lisa left, and get your ass on the stage."

!NOT PROOF READ! MAY UPDATE AND CHANGE THINGS!

#bts x reader #bts soulmate au #bts fic

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dunkzillla · 2 years ago

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New Tricks for an Old Dog (9/10)

William Regal x Wheeler Yuta, Chuck Taylor x Wheeler Yuta

I’m so sorry this chapter took a little longer to get out! I ended up getting sick and I didn’t want to put out a half hearted attempt at anything while I was in pain med induced delirium! I hope that you enjoy this anyway, we’re so nearly at the end! Thank you for all your love and support!

Title: New Tricks for an Old Dog

Pairings: William Regal/Wheeler Yuta, Chuck Taylor/Wheeler Yuta

Ratings/Warnings: Language, Eating Disorders/Disordered Eating, Derogatory statements/langue about Sex Work.

Word Count: 4,087

Summary: A painful conversation, a bag of McDonald’s, and a happy ending.

“Wheeler, I’ll ask again, who the hell was that?” Chuck asks again, and for the first time in a very long time, Wheeler sees the anger etched into Chuck’s features. Chuck hasn’t been angry in a long time, not since he got laid off from his job, and never, ever has he been angry at Wheeler.

“Could you just sit down please? So we can talk?”

Chuck dumps the laundry bag he’s brought with him at the end of the bed and sits down into the chair Regal was just occupying in such a heavy way that the feet scrape loudly against the floor.

“You’ve been cheating on me, that’s what this is, isn’t it?” Chuck accuses, arms crossing against his chest.

Wheeler feels sick to his stomach, and this time it’s not because of the pain medication he’s on or the horrible hospital food he’d eaten for lunch this afternoon. His face hurts, his wrist hurts, his body hurts, and his mind is a little fuzzy thanks to the concussion. Chuck confronting him about Regal is the very last thing he wanted at this moment in time, even though he knew it was going to happen sooner or later. But he can’t make himself wish Regal didn’t come. Because seeing the man made him feel a million times better than he did when he woke up this morning, the first thought of waking consciousness being that he’s missing work, and that he couldn’t afford the hospital bills with no insurance.

“Yes… but not, not in the way you’re thinking.”

Chuck scoffs at him, “Yeah? What’s the excuse then, Wheeler? You slipped and fell?”

It’s cruel, given the circumstances, but Wheeler feels that he does deserve it in some way. He has been cheating on Chuck. Chuck has a right to be upset.

“I’ve been… I was an escort. I didn’t work at a gas station, it never existed. I was on the street, selling myself so we could afford to live.”

Wheeler can feel Chuck looking at him but he can’t meet his eyes, he’s looking down at the bottom of the bed, where he can see his feet sticking up under the blanket.

“You’re joking with me. Wheeler, tell me you’re joking.”

Wheeler feels that thick feeling in his throat, the tell tale sign that he’s about to cry, and he shakes his head, trying to stave it away.

“I’m sorry. I know I should have told you, but it was, it was really good money, Chuck. Money that we desperately needed. Sometimes I made more at night than I did in a week at Starbucks.” Wheeler tells him, still looking down at the end of the bed because he can’t bear to look at Chuck, who’s face must be twisted with horror and disgust.

“How long? How many men?”

Wheeler swallows, fiddling it’s the end of the bandage on his wrist. It’s burned from the milk, apparently, that spilled all over him when he passed out. It’s sore and itchy and all he wants to do is rip the bandage off and scratch at it with all his might.

“Nearly a year, but I can’t tell you how many… I never kept track,” Wheeler says, feeling disgusted in himself in a way that he never has before. “Six months ago I met Regal. He came to see me one night, and he paid more than any other man ever has. He kept coming back, I became his personal escort. I attended a charity event as his date. He paid me a lot of money Chuck. Money that kept us with a roof over our head and a tiny bit of food in the fridge.”

“You didn’t need to cheat on me to do that, Wheeler.”

“Maybe not, but I was desperate, Chuck. Do you actually know how much debt we’re in? How much it costs for you to sit in the apartment all day running up the electric bill?”

“We’re not that bad off that you had to sell your fucking body, Wheeler!”

“Yes we are!” Wheeler raises his voice, instantly regretting it as his head throbs. He rubs at his eyes with his uninjured hand, feeling them damp with tears and sore from exhaustion. “Why do you think I’m in here, Chuckie? Without me working two jobs we can’t make rent, let alone any other bills and food. I’m overworked. I’m exhausted, I’m malnourished, because I don’t have the time or money to eat. I eat what I can at work. But it’s not enough. Working the street gave me the kind of disposable income that meant I could pay the rent, the bills and buy food. Regal fed me every single day, so much that I actually started putting weight on.”

“If he’s so great, how did you end up here? You didn’t suck his dick right? So he stopped feeding you?”

The words are cruel and callous but Wheeler understands that Chuck is hurt and lashing out, so he takes each blow as he picks at his fingers.

“A few months ago Regal told me that he has feelings for me. He asked me to stay with him, he told me he’d take care of me.” Wheeler says quietly, and there’s a heavy feeling in his chest as he remembers that night. How wonderful the night was until Wheeler ruined it all.

“Oh, did he now?”

“And I said no, Chuck. I said no because I knew what I was doing was wrong, and that it wasn’t fair to you. I said no because I have feelings for him too and I realised it had gone too far, so I left. I stopped escorting and I was going to look for something else, something better. I’d got a good chunk of money left from what he’d given me so I knew we’d be okay. Then we had the flood, and you spent the last of it on your set up so I had to get another job. The restaurant is real, Chuckie I promise you. The day I told you I got let go from the gas station is the day I stopped seeing him. Today is the first day I’ve seen him since then.”

Wheeler finally looks at Chuck, who’s got his head buried in his hands trying to make sense of everything that he’s being told.

“You love that old man?”

Wheeler doesn’t think he’s let himself utter the word love about Regal. Regal told him he loved him the night that he left, and Wheeler knows the feeling he’s got inside of him definitely is love, he’s just, not said it before. Not to himself and not to Regal.

“Yeah, I do. I’m sorry.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.” Wheeler answers instantly. It’s automatic. He does love Chuck. He does. He did, he always has. It’s just. William Regal is the light in his life that he so desperately needs, that he’s so desperately been searching for. He always used to see the way his father’s face lit up when he came home from work, and his mother was at the stove or helping Wheeler with his homework at the kitchen table, he’d look at her and drop everything, his briefcase and suit jacket and just embrace her, kissing her and telling her how much he’d missed her, how happy he was to be home. Wheeler’s always been searching for that feeling, and maybe he thought he found it with Chuck at the beginning of their relationship. When Chuck would get home from his stuffy office job and collapse on the couch, telling Wheeler about his bad day and saying how great it was to finally be home.

He realises now that that was just normal coming home from work talk. That as soon as Chuck started playing his video games for work that feeling went away, Wheeler was the one coming home wanting to talk about his bad day and curl into Chuck but Chuck couldn’t look away from his games long enough to hold Wheeler in his arms and make him feel better. So Wheeler lost that feeling that his father clearly had about his mother. But seeing Regal. That really did feel like that feeling. Every time he saw the Rolls Royce on the side of the curb it was like there were thousands of butterflies in his stomach, erupting into a frenzy at just the mere thought of getting into the car and seeing Regal. That’s the feeling he’s been chasing, the one he doesn’t get with Chuck.

“I do. Chuck I do love you, but, the way I feel about him is… it’s completely different.”

“Yeah, it’s to do with the size of his bank account.”

“No, no it’s not. I couldn’t care less about the size of his bank account. He’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. He cares about me, he cares about my day and my health and he listens when I talk —“

“I do all of that!”

“You don’t,” Wheeler’s voice cracks on the words, and he feels tears start to run down his cheeks. He’s never, ever wanted to have to confront Chuck about his failings as a boyfriend. He’s gone above and beyond just to let him live his dream, the life he wants, he never wanted this to happen. “You sit on your PlayStation more than eighteen hours a day. When I come home from work most of the time you barely spare me a glance, and when you do you’re usually trying to start something, when I’m tired and don’t have time. You eat every single bit of food I can afford and you never, ever save anything for me, you don’t make me anything or get me anything if you order food. You complain about me being skinny and tell me to eat but you don’t do anything to actively take care of me, Chuck. I pay the bills. I take care of the apartment. I work. I do everything, everything, just to let you live out this crazy dream of playing video games for a living. I resorted to selling myself, because you didn’t see that winning barely two hundred dollars a month isn’t enough to keep a roof over our heads!” Wheeler feels his head throb as he gets worked up, as he thinks about how he’s been living for the past year.

“You should have come to me before you decided to get fucked by other men for money, Wheeler! I would have sorted something, gotten a job or —“

“No you wouldn’t.” Wheeler almost whimpers, rubbing furiously at his eyes. “When the apartment flooded and I begged you not to use the money I’d made to buy your set up, I told you to get a job and pay for it yourself and what did you do? You spent the money! That’s why I had to take the job at the restaurant. The money you used was my last bit left over from Regal and I was trying to ration it until I could get a better paying job than Starbucks. I asked you to get a job and you didn’t.”

“I think if you’d have told me you were having thoughts of being a whore for money I would have gotten a job, Wheeler.”

Wheeler shakes his head. Chuck doesn’t see it, does see that he basically gave up his own life for Chuck to have his.

“I love William, Chuck. And I don’t care whether he’s got a massive bank account or not, I’ll work until the day I die to make my own money because I’m not looking for a pay day, I'm looking for someone who loves me more than anything in the world. And I’m not saying you don’t love me, but William… he… he would do anything for me. And I mean anything, whether it had monetary value or not. He will go to the ends of the earth to make sure I know he loves me.”

“So you’re leaving me, huh?”

“Chuck, I’m sorry, I love you I —“

“Honestly Wheeler I’d say I can’t believe it but Trent and Orange warned me about you, and I guess I was too stupid to see it.”

Wheeler nearly gives himself another concussion with how quick he whips his head to look at Chuck when those words come out of his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“They always said you were looking to be a kept boy. I mean, you had nothing when you came to this city, and they always said you made a beeline for me cos’ I look like a big dumb bear who’ll fall for anything. I took care of you, I looked after the little lost kid who was sleeping on the floor of a friend's apartment. I helped you when you had no one else, Wheeler. And they always said you’d leave me when you could but I always told them they were wrong, that you loved me. I should have listened to them.”

Wheeler feels something inside of him crumble and crack. He’s always known Trent didn’t like him, there was just something about him that made Trent pick at him whenever they were around each other, especially if there was beer involved. Orange wasn’t much of a talker, and he’s generally a laid back guy who didn’t make Wheeler feel like there was any animosity at all. So to know that both of them have been talking behind his back, telling Chuck that he’s looking to be a kept boy, that, that really hurts.

“Chuck, this is not about —“

“You say you love me but you’re leaving me for a man who has all the money in the world to give you what you want, you whored yourself —“

“Don’t you dare! I know you’re angry and I know you’re upset and you have every right to be but do not make this out to be something it’s not. I never, ever looked at you as someone to take care of me like that. I did not and do not want to be kept by anyone. I fell in love with you the day I met you, you were this big, loveable goof who made my cheeks hurt from smiling and my stomach cramp from laughing. I wanted to build a life with you, we started to build that life, I worked, you worked, we managed to buy our apartment, we were creating something special, Chuck. I have never, ever asked you to take care of me. I gave my quality of life for yours, because I loved you so goddamn much, I loved you so much that seeing your face when you talked about getting accepted into tournaments and winning money made having to cram myself into footwells of cars in the middle of the night sucking random dick for twenty dollars worth it. I did absolutely everything and anything I could to give you your dream life. It has damn near killed me. You can be angry at me for cheating on you and falling in love with someone else, that’s fine, but don’t you, or your stupid, enabling little friends, ever, ever accuse me of wanting to be yours or anyone’s kept boy.” Wheeler spits the last words, they taste horrible and dirty in his mouth.

“Wheeler—“

“Just, go, Chuck. Please just go.” He says, exhausted and hurt, both physically and emotionally.

A voice that Wheeler wasn’t expecting speaks instead of Chuck, the door to the room opening.

“This lowlife causing trouble, kid?”

Jon Moxley is standing in the doorway, an overfull bag of McDonald’s stuffed under his arm. He’s staring at Chuck with a hard look on his face, the hand on the door handle is white from how hard he’s clenching it.

“Mox, what—“

“This someone you fucked for a box of twinkies?”

“That how much you think he’s worth, Chuckles? Doesn’t surprise me, considering you’ve melted your brain away playing a goddamn kids game.”

“It’s not—“

“I don’t give a shit. Get outta here. And if you show your face again I ain’t letting you walk away with it intact, got it?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Chuck is pushing his way past Mox and leaving, his tall frame disappearing out of the door and down the hall. It’s not the end of it, Wheeler knows that, there’s still a million more things he could say, that Chuck could say, but they won’t change anything, so it’s enough for now. It’s about as much as Wheeler can take right now, anyway.

“What are you doing here?” Wheeler asks as Mox dumps the McDonald’s bag into Wheeler’s lap and slumps down into the chair next to the bed.

“His lordship needed someone to bring his car here seeing as Bryan drove him over. Thought I’d bring you some real food while I did, I know this place gives out slop and calls it high quality food.” Mox says, his hands shoved into his pockets and his whole body relaxed and loose in the chair.

“Thank you,” Wheeler says, and he opens the bag, finding it crammed with boxes of fries and burgers. He takes out a pack of fries and a cheeseburger before handing the bag to Mox.

“I brought it for you, kid.”

“I’ve been eating a wheat cracker and out of date sandwiches for months, I won’t be able to eat all this. Eat with me?”

Mox makes a face before reaching for the bag. He digs into the fries like a man with no food manners at all. It makes Wheeler smile, because the first thing he thinks is that Regal must tell him off all the time, he can practically hear it in his head. Wheeler unwraps the burger and takes a small bite. It tastes heavenly. He hasn’t eaten McDonalds in so long.

“I’m sorry, for how I treated you.” Mox says. It’s quiet and around a mouthful of fries, but Wheeler hears it.

“You don’t—“

“Nah, I do. It wasn’t fair. I’m very protective of the old man, found him in a bad way when we first met and me, Bry and Claudio don’t want anything to happen to him to get him back that way. And I saw a lot of guys take him for his money, he’s a soft touch and he’ll just hand it out like he’s candy. I don’t wanna see him taken advantage of,” Mox says as he munches down fries.

“But I didn’t listen to him when he told me you weren’t like that. Shouldn’t have called you a whore, either. I had… my own stuff with em’ once upon a time but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.” Mox says. Wheeler takes another bite of his burger, savouring the taste and not wanting to get full up too quick by eating too fast.

“Thank you, but I understand. I’m glad he’s got people like you and Bryan to look after him. He is generous, way too generous, but it’s a big reason why I love him.”

Mox shoves half the burger into his mouth. “You really love im’?”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Wheeler says. Just because he hadn’t said it or really thought about that word concerning Regal before now doesn’t make it not true. He does love him. He loves the man so, so much. “And I want to be with him, in any way he’ll have me. I promise I’m not trying to take advantage of him. I'm not looking for his money. I know it’s probably empty words from someone who was paid to be with him but… I really, really love him.”

“You walked out on it when you knew it was getting rough. He told me you wouldn’t let him give you anymore money. I know, kid. I’ve just been a stubborn ass.” Mox sighs, finishing off his food and tossing the wrappers into the paper bag. Yuta takes another bite of his burger and chews on a couple of fries. His stomach’s already starting to get full but he knows that he’s not going to be wondering where his next meal comes from, and that makes him feel so, so much better.

Mox talks to him while Wheeler eats, managing to finish the burger and only leave a handful of fries, which, once he sees Mox eyeing them he offers them to him and they disappear.

Mox is in the middle of telling him about his boyfriend Eddie’s three am drunken antics when Regal comes back into his room, his eyes widening a little at seeing Mox sitting in the chair.

“Jonathon, what are you doing here? If you’ve been harassing—“

“Ah don’t fret, old man. I brought you your car like you asked, and got the kid some McDonalds cos’ I heard he’s malnourished.”

“Thank you, Jon, for bringing my car, though Wheeler needs real food, not your American fast food, to build up strength.”

Mox rolls his eyes, “Yeah yeah, Swiss is already working on some stuff. But look at him. Brighter already!”

“What happened with Mr Taylor?” Regal steps further into the room, and Mox stands up to give him the chair.

“He was being a huge asshole so I told him to take a hike.” Mox grumbles.

Regal looks at Wheeler and takes his hand, which is still a little greasy from the fries. “Are you okay?”

Wheeler nods. “It wasn’t easy, he said some really horrible things. Like apparently his friends always thought I was trying to make myself his kept boy and he’s completely disgusted by me but. I said what I needed to.”

“Trying to make yourself a kept boy? You worked two jobs to —“

“I know, I know,” Wheeler says, squeezing Regal’s hand to calm down the anger that’s so clearly threatening to boil up. They don’t need to do that right now, he just needs him, by his side, making him feel like he’s walking on air. “It’s over now. I’m yours now, William, if you’ll have me.”

“Always, darling, always.”

“Okay gross I’m leaving. Old man, your car’s on the top floor of the parking lot, like the fourth row down on the end.” Mox says, passing Regal the keys to his car. He takes them with one hand, the other is still cradled in Wheeler’s on the bed.

“Thank you, Jonathon. I appreciate it, I really do.” He says, and Wheeler knows he means more than just dropping off his car for him.

“Ah don’t, it’s nothing. I’ll see you back at home. Take care of yourself, kid.”

Wheeler smiles. Mox has some misplaced anger at escorts, and misplaced fears about what Wheeler is really like, but he’s trying to make up for that, and he’s thankful for it, and glad that he’s so fiercely protective of Regal. “Thank you.”

Mox gives them a wave before he’s ducking out of the room and down the hall. The room falls silent for a moment, both of them watching Mox disappear before Regal turns back to him.

“Oh darling. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Wheeler squeezes his hand again, lifting his injured one up to run through the short hair at the side of Regal’s hair. “I’m sorry I left before. I really thought I could fix everything, that Chuck… might change.”

“My love, I understand, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. It was selfish of me to ask you to stay like that when we hadn’t even spoken about our feelings for each other, and you were still with Chuck, no matter how rotten he is. That was selfish of me and I’m sorry. But we can put that behind us now, Wheeler. And if you are mine, I’d really like to start building our future.”

“I am yours, and I’d really like that too.” Wheeler says, and he does, he really likes it, he really, really likes it and he wants nothing more than to just be with Regal.

Regal kisses his palm. “May I kiss you, darling?

Wheeler feels all his insides warm and his heart tries to burst through his chest. He’s missed this feeling so much. Missed the feeling of waiting to be kissed by Regal, missed the feeling of being kissed by Regal. Missed being loved by him, and now he gets it back. He can have Regal.

“Forever William. You can kiss me forever.” He whispers.

#writing #william regal x wheeler yuta #chuck taylor x wheeler yuta #william regal #regal #wheeler yuta #chuck taylor #jon moxley #mox #blackpool combat club

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twen-nee7 · 1 year ago

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it is the first week of june, 2023. my partner was supposed to be here at the end of april. he moved to portland, oregon, at the beginning of 2022 and we planned to live there together, but things didn’t work out on his end, and we decided to regroup in west virginia for now.

he got very sick in april. there’s a lot going on. i wish i could afford to go see him in the hospital, but i can barely pay the bills. we were supposed to see the cure together this sunday ):

weird little story below the cut.

march, 2022: partner moved to oregon, having landed what he thought was his dream job in appraisals.

i wasn’t thrilled. i don’t like cities, they aggravate my sensory issues, but i was living on disability with my dysfunctional and sometimes-abusive mother; i just wanted out.

i was putting in hundreds of job apps for the portland area, but then my partner stopped me. he hates it. we shouldn’t live there, get a job where i can tolerate and he will figure it out. he planned on being here in december.

i got my bachelors degree and a shitty job as a proofreader at a law firm, secured a place to live near the office in west virginia, and eagerly awaited my partner to get here.

except, he couldn’t find a job. his industry is niche. it’s how it is. march, he said. still no job. finally, he finds one! yay! april!!!

i’m barely making ends meet. any extra expense is impossible as i eat every third day of the week. soon, it’ll be okay and i can have food daily and not cry about money, maybe fix my credit score.

the flight date is inching forward, but my partner gets kidney stones. one is the size of a quarter. he goes to the hospital.

no antibiotics. no urinalysis.

tw: graphic?? his urethra is shredded, and he needs to use a catheter until it heals. they send him home. it develops an infection, so he goes back; he is in the hospital for a day as they siphon liquid out of his penis with a giant needle. there’s no way he’s making his flight. reschedule.

the day before he flies out, he has a high fever on his antibiotics. i tell him to go to the hospital, and he does. they run tests… and he has MRSA. in his penis. they give him antibiotics, but don’t listen to his allergies.

his heart stops for four and a half minutes after they administer antibiotics he is allergic to.

there is an indescribable feeling that comes along with someone you love being resuscitated from actual death. the story of what he saw was harrowing, yet enlightening.

that hospital lets him out the next day after they killed him, giving him pills for MRSA after a mere 24 hours on IV antibiotics. plane is rescheduled.

it is the day before the flight, today, but he isn’t going to be here.

a week ago now, he went to a new hospital. the MRSA spread. he had a stomach ulcer. his penis was turning blue.

due to the mistreatment from the prior hospital (which likely gave him MRSA in the first place, along with a whole slew of other problems), the bacteria was running rampant, eating his penis from the inside out. sounds kinky, but it has eaten through so much muscle and tissue that the outlook isn’t great.

my partner is the most cishet person i know. as such, he is very attached to his genitals. as of this weekend, he has daily talks with therapists to help him learn to cope with the very real possibility that his penis will be useless sexually. reconstructive surgery is in his future, and he will “only” lose “some” feeling if he’s lucky. (the use of therapists indicates to me that “functionally useless” will be the most likely outcome, though)

i feel so badly for him. truly. i can’t imagine what he is going through right now, all alone… it’s terrible.

i’m not worried about my end of the sex life, but i am worried for him. i find it odd, though, and maybe feel somewhat at fault for always saying i’d never date anyone who could get me pregnant… maybe i shouldn’t have thought like that. it’s stupid to feel guilt right now, too; my partner, who i’ve been with for seven years, is suffering a continent away from his friends and family.

but… the whole thing. it’s so odd.

#anecdote #personal #tw medical #medical

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paperwhite91 · 3 months ago

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About two and a half years ago, I made a life changing decision. After almost two years of Covid lockdowns, seven years of poor mental health and a deep hatred of the direction my life was going, I consulted my doctor about Bariatric surgery. It was the absolute last resort, something I adamantly did not want but something needed to change. I’ve been heavy all of my adult life but being locked in, away from the world took its toll and I ballooned to over 350 lbs. Mind you, I am 6 feet tall & big boned but at 30 years old, I was in constant pain. Severe back pain, that was “blamed” on my weight (let’s ignore the fractured disk and mass on my spine…that can’t possibly cause pain, right?); severe plantar fasciitis and swelling in my feet. I avoided mirrors, especially when naked bc I hated my body.

There is a horrible misconception about Bariatric surgery. It is NOT the easy way out. It is NOT permanent. I spent nine months taking classes in nutrition, meeting with dietitians, social workers, nurses and psychologists to get to the bottom of my eating disorder (yes, obesity is an eating disorder whether society wants to admit it or not). When I was finally approved, I couldn’t wait! Yes, surgery is drastic and risky, but I was a walking time bomb. All my labs all came back “normal” but how long would that last?

July 21, 2022 I started three weeks of a strict, liquid only diet. The shakes tasted like shit…basic nutrients to keep me alive and shrink my liver. Although I was supposed to drink four a day, by the end I was lucky to get one in me a day. I definitely took eating for granted. August 13 was my surgery date and I had already lost 32 lbs in those three weeks.

After surgery was worse. First week, liquid diet, watered down beverages, no solid foods. Slowly, I introduced new foods and learned my new stomach. I had a laparoscopic vertical sleeve gastrectomy (gastric sleeve….my stomach is the size and shape of a small banana).

At the two year mark, I am down almost 95 lbs and about 40 lbs away from my goal. To say I’ve had an easy go since surgery would be inaccurate. I suffer from frequent acid reflux (>1% of sleeve patents get it…yay me), dumping syndrome and other side effects BUT, I would do it again in a heartbeat. My back pain is gone (still have arthritis and a mass on my spine but the nerve pain is gone); the swelling and plantar fasciitis are gone. My self esteem and mental health better (not perfect, but significantly better).

To anyone who feels trapped in their body, I see you. It takes immense courage to seek help but the benefits are worth it! I have my life back! I have a better job and a brighter outlook in my future. It can be done.

#story of my life #life changing #bariatric surgery #you can do it #be kind to yourself #if i’m being honest #I got my life back #paperwhite #my post

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weepingwillowheart · 1 year ago

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Brand New/Same Old

i live in an attic room now. i hear scurried footsteps on the roof and picture wild animals as better culprits than the other half-formed beings my mind rushes to conjure. the walls are old and painted in so many layers of white paint that nothing will stick to them. my pictures and tapestries and various stringed lights and mirrors fall in the middle of the night. i try to mount shelves but the nails won’t pierce to their hilt and the drywall crumbles onto my favourite books as i break my pink power drill by manually forcing it to turn after it meets too much resistance to power through. i have spent a week unpacking here and the room is still half-filled with boxes and half-filled with decor from three rooms and a bathroom. i only have one room now. the one i spent high school in finally belongs to someone else and all i left were emo band tees and second-year university textbooks that still gleamed unopened. my old room is no longer mine. my old job is no longer mine. my hometown is no longer mine.

i only moved an hour away so i could cohabit a place with my best friends. it’s everything we wanted and i just wish i was starting elsewhere. my five year plan has shifted from career to countries and my twenty-five year plan is reaching its deadline with nothing to show. i feel happy here. i feel happy in the sense that i feel sleep; i am aware it is there, soft in the borders of my mind, but it dissipates when i try to perceive it. i am focused and have done nothing but unpack and settle in since i moved here for real, since my last day at my job – a job i really miss, that is just too far away from a chance to feel new. and i do feel new, in a form more raw than shiny. i have applied to one job. my printer is broken and i can’t print more resumes. i told my old coworkers i was moving to Toronto. they all offered to set me up with serving positions at incredible places. i nodded politely and then drove to my new house in Hamilton. i just couldn’t bear to tell them i was here again, and an hour’s drive felt a bit too short to explain my departure. i guess i’m still not able to be vulnerable when i can escape with a lie.

i realize that if i stop moving right now i will break down before i’ve had a chance to string up new safety nets to stop me midfall. so i keep reminding myself that this is what i need right now and the future is still coming to grant other opportunities. i can still move to Portugal for a year and find a local job. these years are my chance to heal first. my friends love me and they are here. we watch childhood films together. we make fun of twilight and cry during harry potter (after agreeing that death of the author is in fact a beautiful idea). i have set goals for myself, goals such as: teach myself how to play the instruments i used to know, make yoga a daily practice, write as much as i can. gentle aspirations that blossom into deeper dreams the longer i recite them to myself.

i hear objects clattering to the ground around me as i write, small knickknacks and artwork in various corners tumbling from the wall. my mirror falls, cracking a pair of bookends once loved by my father. it breaks itself in the process and i reorient the next seven years to leave room for bad luck. i struggle not to cultivate it all into metaphor: a ramshackle fantasy collapsing under its own weight, a desperate and failing attempt to bring life to a space that cannot support it. my plants already have brown leaves. i am constructing conversations and explanations for killing my largest christmas present in a couple months. i remind myself that i am in the worst of the winter and the sun will grow brighter from here. they might find the nourishment they need in time. i might kill them anyways. i never know why.

my sister tells me it’s getting bad again. i give her empty reassurances and hope the emotion they carry can make up for their uselessness. i remind her that she is in the worst of the winter and the sun will grow brighter from here. i know she sees me as a reason to hope. last year i cried because it finally felt better. i don’t feel like that anymore. i will pretend i do if it means she will have a chance. i told myself when i moved here i would involve myself in the community. these days i don’t even have enough energy for me. i had lists for donations to homeless shelters but now i don’t have a job and i’m eying the food bank line. my life felt so romantic until the whimsy showed up on my credit card bills. last year was my 1st house return, sagittarius rising and pluto taking control or lack thereof, taking three international trips for a total of almost five months, ending bad relationships, taking three mushroom trips to enhance my mind. now in my 2nd house return, good old capricorn venus slides in, and reshapes me grasping for security, hungry for something solid and sure. not that i have a routine now; i wake and sleep at increasingly odd hours and time slips past me in slices and a breeze that tastes like before. it blows through me the way it did seven years ago. i have applied to one job. every day a small stopwatch inside me ticks more loudly. my printer is broken and my shelves tilt and i no longer have anyone wiser i can ask for help.

my lights fall and dangle around me, hanging from dirty, unstuck clear tape. i sit in the cozy nook i have crafted by my window, tucked away from the rest of the room so the light never quite reaches the corners. the tapestry above my head slowly loosens its grip to the ceiling. black and white, yin and yang, two opposing halves; sunlit woman holding wine and bread, under old trees with full leaves. moonlit witch holding a candle and sickle, under twisted trees with gnarled bare branches. it drapes over me and my wilting plants, soft and gentle as death, sudden as a frog in boiling water. black over one eye, white over the other. something shuffles on the roof and i am glad to be shielded either way. then the window flies open and the wind screams. something crashes to the ground. i will be 25 in 2 1/2 weeks. the wind howls cold and violent in the disarray of this room. i lift the fabric from over the plants next to me. i close the window. i climb into bed. another piece of cheap tape gives way and a string of amethysts and lights slips quickly to the floor. their small glow glints off my broken mirror. i turn the other lights off, and imagine deadly creatures on the roof.

#journal entries #from january 2023 #creative writing #stream of consciousness

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casburtoncreates · 2 years ago

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Five years, they’d been living together.

Friends had stopped making the will they, won’t they jokes and accepted, pretty much, that they were what they were. Platonic. Neutral. Married, in all but name and bedroom arrangements. They were an odd couple, that was for sure. Sam, the eternal overachiever, going to his nine to five every day, keeping the flat clean, cooking the meals and organising meetups with their old friends. Jason, on the other hand, was a recluse. Filling the hallway with dirty dishes, never leaving the house, rarely taking phone calls. Still not got a job? Sam’s parents would ask over Facetime once a week. He’s got an office job, Sam would lie, unconvincingly. He’s an accountant. An accountant who littered the hallway with his 8-inch heels late at night, who took all his meetings in his room, through video call. Accounting is a very serious business, Sam would argue, and his parents would look at each other on the other end of the line and sigh, before telling their son that they loved him, but…

There was always a but. He went into tech, against their wishes, so he should have been designing software for MI6 by now. He needed to have them over more often, throw some classy dinner parties for them and their friends to show off how well he was doing. He needed to find a decent girl, and move in with her, and leave Jason behind. It didn’t matter that Sam didn’t like MI6, or parties, or girls. They insisted, and so he tried. He made job applications, he bought new cutlery, he scrolled Tinder. He went to interviews, he bought a table runner, he got drunk at the bar before his date, and left alone. He crashed out on the sofa, beside Jason as he rolled up, and shoved his feet in his friend’s face.

“They smell like defeat.”

“They smell like you’re being a twat. It’s only seven, how’re you bladdered already?” Jason frowned at Sam from beneath a mop of curly blond hair and shoved his legs onto the floor. “You’re gonna spill my baccy.” Sam smiled at him hazily, leaning forward to pat the other man’s head gently.

“You’re such a fucking angel Jace, honestly,” he slurred, arm now swinging to grab the half-rolled cigarette, “you’re my best friend.” Sam neatly lifted the cigarette out of harm’s way, rolling and sealing it with a practised ease before answering.

“Yeah, you’re my best friend too mate, but you’re absolutely pissed.” Sam pouted at him, bottom lip quivering, and he sighed heavily, passing his friend the cigarette, and pulling out another paper. “You better smoke all of it this time.” Last month had been a disaster; Sam had taken one to bed and fallen asleep with it still burning. Now, he was supervised.

“I’m an adult, Jace. A man. A big, strong, man, with a job in tech and a pension. Did you know that?” Jason snorted, used to his friend’s drunken rambling by now.

“Ah, yeah sorry mate, I forgot. You’re a big boy now, you don’t need anyone to watch you smoke. I still gotta wipe your arse though, orders are orders.” Sam spluttered, smoke exiting his nostrils, and the two of them dissolved into laughter, the sound echoing in Sam’s ears, until he realised, he wasn’t laughing anymore. “Uh, Sam, dude, are you okay?” Jason was suddenly very quiet, holding his friend’s shoulder with a surprising gentleness as the tears rolled down Sam’s face. “Do you…” He faltered, unsure how to deal with this new territory. They’d lived together five years. “Do you want to talk about it?” Sam took a long drag of his damp cigarette, his throat burning. If he filled the room with enough smoke, he wouldn’t be able to see those hazel eyes anymore- the ones that were filled with concern; that were his fault, because he’d let himself be weak for the first time. This wasn’t him. He didn’t cry, not in front of Jason. Only ever in the dead of the night, alone in his room, or after his parents called, in the bathroom at the office, or on the train home, his face pressed against the window of the underground. Anywhere but here. He took another drag, this one more of a desperate gasp, and the hand on his shoulder tightened. “Hey,” the soft voice near his ear murmured, “you’re gonna make yourself sick, slow down.” And it was true, he could already feel it. But this was what he needed.

“I’m gonna throw up.” Jason was on his feet immediately, his roll-up tucked behind his ear, and Sam’s now confiscated, resting between his lips. He reached down and lifted his friend, awkwardly, hoisting him up by the armpits, until Sam was walking on Bambi legs to the bathroom. Still damp from the stumble home, shirt buttons undone, eyes glassy, he gazed up at Jason like a child beholding the face of God. Those deep brown eyes seemed to see every part of him, and Jason shivered, suddenly feeling his stomach twist in an unexpected fashion. Speeding up, he deposited the drunken mess on the bathroom floor, watching him sink to the ground in slow motion. Sam smiled into the toilet bowl, looking for all the world content, and Jason sighed.

“I’m just gonna go finish these,” he instructed, “so stay here, and try to throw up if you can.” Sam nodded, eyes now closed as he rested his face against the cold toilet seat, and Jason made a hasty exit, head spinning considerably more than his sober state would have warranted.

Stepping onto the tiny balcony of their flat, he took in the concrete terrace, the sad attempts he’d made at growing his own, next to Sam’s flourishing avocado plants and potted herbs. Sam, who always had it together. Who paid the rent for them both most months, who never told him off for accidentally dyeing the shower tray, who helped him pick out new outfits for his shows, but would never dream of watching one, despite the number of hints Jason had dropped. He took a shuddering breath, feeling the cool evening breeze calm the turmoil in his stomach. Sam was crying, and he was out here, because he didn’t trust himself. Because after five years, it would take less than five seconds to burn it all down.

He took a few minutes in the night air, letting the sounds of the city wash over him. The gentle patter of the rain mixed with the sounds of passing cars far below, the distant sirens and the partygoers enjoying Friday night to the fullest. The city was spread out like a map in front of him, and he navigated by the lights, starbursts of red, yellow, and flashing blue. There was Sam’s office, far in the distance, rising above the other tower blocks to pierce the sky. It was ugly, sparkling glass and steel beams doing nothing to hide its corporate violence. They’d razed a ghetto to build it, seven years ago, and it still held those memories within it, the scent of capitalist greed lingering in its hallways like garbage on a hot day. To the right, slightly closer, was their old university, the lecture halls and library spaces where he and Sam had first met- where they’d been bitter rivals, then reluctant partners, then finally, the oddest of friends, joined at the hip. Inside, he heard the toilet flush, and a tired goodnight was called out from beyond the sliding doors as his friend retired to his room, no doubt to pass out, fully clothed on the bed. Jason resisted the urge to go and check on him, bring him a bucket, maybe put him in the recovery position. He was a grown man now. He didn’t need someone to hold his hand.

Jason lay awake for longer than usual that night. By the time he finally drifted off, the sun was already cresting the tower blocks.

It was late afternoon by the time Sam left his room, dressed in his boxers and one of Jason’s old summer camp t-shirts. Jason looked up from the sofa and held back a chuckle at his friend’s dishevelled state, the imprint of the sheets still evident on the dark skin of his face, sleep in his eyes and one sock still hanging on, halfway down his foot. He directed Sam to the pot of coffee, now going cold on the side, and offered a cigarette, which his friend declined, nose wrinkling.

“No way in hell am I doing that again.” Jason shrugged.

“Suit yourself, mate.” He wandered over to the balcony, whose doors were open, streaming sunlight into the flat, and lit up as he waited for Sam to join him. After a minute, he felt a presence, and glanced over to see the other man stood beside him, leaning against the railing and gripping his mug like a lifeline. They stood in silence for a little while, taking in the scent of warm, damp tarmac, and Saturday afternoon cooking drifting up from a few floors below. Sam finally spoke.

“I can’t keep doing this Tinder bullshit. And I don’t want kids. They don’t understand that.” Jason nodded slowly as his friend continued. “I got a job offer yesterday. From a gaming tech company in Glasgow.”

“They won’t like that.”

“I know.” Another few minutes of silence. Glasgow was a long way away. Too far to commute. The world seemed to hold its breath. “But I can��t keep doing this. It’s going to kill me.”

“You’ve always wanted to go into the games industry. What’s the pay like?” Sam scoffed as Jason asked the question, and they both shared a chuckle.

“Oh, it’s shit, of course. But what’s new? At least rent there’ll be cheaper.” And there it was. The question hung over them like a dark cloud.

“Do you…” Jason’s fingers gripped the railing tightly as he struggled to get the words out in an order that would make sense, that would give him the best possible chance of a positive answer. “Do you want me there?” No, that was all wrong. He couldn’t take the reply to that. He couldn’t take the rejection-

“Yes.” The reply was quiet, but firm; so much so in fact, that even Sam seemed surprised by the force with which he’d spoken it. “I- I mean, yeah, if you want to be there. I’d really like that. I know it’s far away, but-“

“Then I’ll be there.” The matter was settled. Sam loosened his grip on his mug, which was now lukewarm, at best. He hadn’t drunk the coffee yet. Part of him didn’t want to wake up fully. If he was still in this haze, perhaps, he could act like he was still dreaming. In this liminal space between waking and sleeping, the possibilities were endless. It had already worked once. He looked over at Jason, taking him in. Silhouetted against the sky, he was once again an angel. Last night Sam had looked up at him and seen the universe. Now he could see it again. It was in the way he picked his nails, in the way he shook his hair out of his eyes. In the concentration as he surveyed the city, their city, like he was always seeing it for the last time. In the way he looked back at Sam now, questioningly, with his head cocked slightly to one side, a smile playing around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re beautiful.” The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back, and they hung in the air between the two, a mystery to be unravelled. He could play it off as a joke, he could make it friendly, he could- he didn’t know.

Sam stubbed out his cigarette, letting the filter drop to the street far below. He looked away for a moment again, frowning at the office block in the distance. “S- sorry,” Sam stuttered, “I-“

“Do you want to get a one-bedroom, in Glasgow?” There was silence for a moment, and as he looked back, he saw the hurt in Sam’s eyes, and realised. “Not like that, I-“

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, I just meant-“

“I’ll leave, I’m sorry, I made things-“

The kiss surprised them both. Jason hadn’t thought about it, not really. Sam wasn’t listening, he didn’t understand, and so he’d just… Kissed him. It had seemed like a simple act of communication at the time, but now it was so much more. Sam’s hands fisted in his hair as they pressed against the railing, the coffee mug broken on the terrace floor, locked together for what seemed like a lifetime, but still not long enough. It was an eternity before they broke apart, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together like hands in prayer. Jason pressed another soft kiss against Sam’s lips, before smiling.

“No more Tinder dates.” And the matter was settled.

#short stories #romance #gay #creative writing #small but beautiful things

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