#THIS TOOK ME EIGHT AND A HALF HOURS DEAR GOD

[eldritch-bf]

Damage Done (part 1/2) draft

Danbert fic:

Fingers crossed tumblr doesn't destroy the formatting, but I wanted to upload a draft of part one of my ftm Herbert getting hatecrimed and attended to by Dan here for feedback before uploading to AO3 and writing the second half. Possible sex to come in the second half.

2200 words, hurt/some comfort, assault aftermath, transphobia, homophobia, f and t slur, outdated terms, pining.

Rain pattered against the roof and Dan glanced at the clock, again. Half past eleven. Herbert was three hours late. If he was staying late at the hospital, he would have called. He always called. Herbert West didn’t forget anything. 

The first hour Herbert was late, Dan hardly noticed. The second, his leg began bouncing. He had to put down the book he was reading and switch on the television because he couldn’t focus. Now, Dan was pacing the living room, TV muted because he couldn’t stand the noise.

It was simple. Off at eight, home by eight-thirty. Every day like clockwork. If it had been anyone, literally anyone else, Dan would have just assumed they’d forgotten to call and found someone to hook up with. But Herbert West wasn’t anyone. There wasn’t a single person like him on the planet. 

Thunder rumbled low and far. Was the storm going away? Or getting closer? It’d been falling since six. By morning, would the whole world be flooded?

Dan’s stomach was in knots. What was he supposed to do? At what point should he call the police? Did a car spin out and hit him while he was walking home? Would Dan even be notified if something like that happened? What if—?

The front door unlocked and swung in. Hebert, head down, drenched in rain, stepped inside. He closed the door, locked the knob and deadbolt, before slowly slipping down the hall. Dan, frozen in the living room, breathed out a loud sigh. 

“Herbert, thank God. Where’ve you been?”

Herbert stiffened and stilled, refusing to look up.

“Dan? I thought you’d be asleep,” Herbert said, voice strangely hollow. In the spaces between their words, water steadily dripped onto the hardwood. 

“I would love to be, believe me. Herbert—.”

“If you don’t mind,” Herbert trailed off. “I’m very cold. Good night.”

Herbert limped the remaining few steps to the bathroom and the light didn’t flick on until Herbert had closed it, bleeding out from the bottom of the door. Quietly, Dan approached the bathroom. He tried the knob, but it didn’t move an inch. Dan heard the tap switch on and a moment later a sharp hiss and low groan from Herbert. 

Dan shuffled off to the kitchen and returned with a butter knife. He pressed the tip into the keyhole, turned it ninety degrees, and the lock released. Herbert didn’t hear him enter over the faucet, but Dan saw the white porcelain splashed with blood as Herbert washed his raw knuckles. The knife clattered to the floor.

“What happened?”

Herbert jolted and whirled on him. “Get out.”

Herbert’s bottom lip was split, a dark spot bruised his temple, and his glasses were damaged. 

“Dear God, Herbert—.”

“Have you gone deaf?”

Dan stepped forward. “Let me help you.”

Herbert laughed derisively. “Where were you three hours ago?”

Dan’s heart twinged but he pushed through it. 

“C’mon.” Dan lifted Herbert onto the counter like he weighed nothing. Gently, Dan took Herbert’s hands in his own and examined them. Only his dominant hand was damaged, the skin on all four of his second and third knuckles split, bloody, and raw, but the hand was still functional.

“Nothing’s broken.” Dan waved his finger in front of Herbert’s face.

He slapped it away. “I don’t have a concussion.”

“What happened?” Dan asked as he pulled out the healing salve and waterproof tape, before carefully rubbing the ointment into Herbert’s knuckles. Dan knew it stung, but the only indication Herbert gave was biting his tongue between his front teeth.

“You know Anthony Wallace?”

“Herbert, you didn’t.”

He grimaced. “I did.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t kill you!”

Dan could have strangled him. Instead, he wrapped the four fingers of Herbert’s right hand in bandages.

Anthony Wallace had been a pain in their asses for the last three months. He was a legacy admission, his father having graduated there twenty or so years ago, and was also a pseudo-philanthropist type, having donated the money to renovate the library, which now bore the Wallace name. It wasn’t until the last three months that they’d had to deal with Anthony. He had originally been placed in the pathology track, but had recently switched his specialization, and was now taking multiple classes with them. 

And he was the worst. Partying, showing up to class hungover, interrupting lectures, and not pulling his weight in labs. It was a wonder he hadn’t flunked out of the program. 

And two weeks ago, Herbert and Anthony had gotten into a shouting match in class over the APA’s de-pathologization of homosexuality and the closure of almost every transsexual surgical clinic over the last five years. 

Dan should’ve expected something like this would have happened. Neither Herbert nor Anthony were capable of dropping anything. And with Anthony at over six feet tall and easily another fifty pounds heavier, Dan doubted he could have helped even if he had been there. 

“Herbert, you should have just dropped it.”

Herbert’s head snapped up. “‘Dropped it’? How could I just drop it? That man is poised to enter the medical field with prejudiced beliefs and incorrect knowledge. I can’t let that go unchallenged.”

“Well, hopefully for all our sakes, he’ll drop out or get expelled before he graduates.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I don’t know.”

“Then we’ll kill him.”

“No, Herbert.”

“Yes, Dan.”

“No!”

“If he calls me a tranny fag again I will not be responsible for my actions!” 

Dan’s ears rang. “Wait, wait, wait. What happened exactly?”

“I was walking home. I was waiting for the crosswalk and he showed up. I didn’t notice him at first and neither did he, until we started walking. He said he knew what I was and I said ‘do you want a medal?’ and kept walking. He kept following me, calling me a fag and a cocksucker and a tranny and every other God damn thing, until I’d had enough and turned on him, calling him a walking petri dish of venereal disease who’s greatest contribution to the world would be when he dropped dead of some heretofore unknown scrotum fungus.” Herbert paused. 

“I also said he was an advertisement for abortion. That’s when he hit me. I don’t remember everything quite so well after that. But I hadn’t realized that I’d gotten lost while he was haranguing me. I kept wandering until eventually I found my way back.”

This wasn’t a case of two students disagreeing over an academic matter and getting into a little fight. This was one student targeting another. 

“Are you going to report it?”

Herbert gave him a flat look. “Excellent idea, Dan. I’m sure the administration will be very interested in disciplining a student whose father has his name engraved on one of our buildings for a bigoted attack against a transsexual fag on student aid. Besides,” Herbert sniffed. “I don’t care what imbeciles think of me.”

Dan knew the transsexual part already, not that Herbert had ever directly told him, but they lived together, and occasionally Dan had seen him shirtless, seen the scars on his chest, and put all the other odd little things together, and moved on from it without comment, which is what he expected Herbert would have wanted. 

The gay part was sort of a surprise, but not entirely, and it made Dan’s pulse quicken. Herbert’s disinterest in women was obvious but he had never seemed to be particularly interested in men, either. Sex, regardless of whom it was with, seemed beneath Herbert, something he’d intellectualized away. 

But Dan also knew that last bit was pure fiction. Clearly, it bothered Herbert to have all he was reduced to two irrelevant aspects of his personhood. There was a lot to hate about Herbert West, objectively speaking. He always had to be the smartest guy in the room,—something he often was, but that was beside the point; he was ruthlessly utilitarian, unappreciative of art, literature, pop culture, or even the natural world; and he seemed categorically incapable of emotionally connecting with another human being.

But even all those things couldn’t make Dan hate him. But if there was something to hate about it, that’s what it was, not him being a transsexual or a homosexual. 

Dan also knew Herbert likely saw it as a preview of what was yet to come. Once they had graduated, and finished their residencies, and were proper doctors, how many times would Herbert West have his skills or character questioned on account of those two things? 

And suddenly it hit Dan why Herbert couldn’t form close connections with anyone. Anyone but him, at least, and this was certainly the most vulnerable Herbert had ever been with him. How could anyone be open and honest with a person if they were forced to hide part of themselves?

Dan grasped Herbert’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

He snorted. “Don’t be. I broke his nose, and he was throwing up when I left him.”

“You kicked him in the nuts, didn’t you?”

“I had no choice. He’s the size of a barn. Now, come on. You’ve been an excellent nurse, but I need to get out of these clothes—.” The moment Herbert moved to work his buttons, he doubled over, wincing.

“Herbert!”

“He may have got my ribs,” he winced. “Dan, please.”

Dan helped him off the vanity and unbuttoned his shirt, peeling it off before tossing it on the counter, along with the necktie. Lifting his arms, Dan examined Herbert’s torso. On the left of his chest, there was a dark bruise over roughly his sixth to eighth ribs, but from Dan’s inspection, running his fingers along the bones, they didn’t appear cracked or splintered. Under Dan’s touch, Herbert shivered, and goosebumps rose across his skin. Another bruise poked out just above the hem off his trousers, along the hip bone, though Dan left that one alone. He had the feeling Herbert might bite his hand off otherwise. He was so difficult to predict sometimes. 

Herbert shifted. “Are you quite satisfied?” Herbert didn’t wait for a response, pushing past Dan for the shower. “You can go now,” he said, without turning around as he turned the spigot, waiting for the water to warm.

Dan watched him tremble from the cold air and his wet clothes, and he wanted nothing more than to warm him with his own hands.

“Herb—.”

“I have had quite enough. I am beyond my limit,” Herbert snapped. 

Dan sighed and did as was asked of him. He wasn’t sure how long Herbert would be in the shower, so he quickly slipped into his room, grabbing a sweater and sweatpants, and quietly slipping them inside the bathroom. Then he headed off to the kitchen and warmed a small pot with milk on the stove, whisking chocolate and a little bit of cinnamon into it. It was Herbert’s only indulgence that Dan knew of. Dan couldn’t stand that sweet stuff. He only hoped it would prove an effective comfort. 

Just as Dan poured the steaming hot chocolate into Herbert’s favorite mug, he heard the water shut off, and hurried to plop a handful of mini-marshmallows into the mug with a final dusting of cinnamon.

A floorboard creaked and Herbert tiptoed around the corner into the kitchen. Neither of them spoke. Dan simply held out the mug and, after a fragile moment, Herbert accepted it with his uninjured hand, their fingers brushing past one another for the briefest moment. Dan watched as he raised it to his lips, softly blew on the top, and took a sip, before relaxing, leaning against the wall, head down. Herbert’s damp hair had softly curled around the tips, as it always did when it got wet, and Dan had to restrain himself from running his fingers through it. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. 

It was past midnight now. Herbert looked exhausted, but Dan was still amped up. A dozen different half-formed, impossible to utter thoughts fought on his tongue. 

I care about you—You bring out the worst in me—Let me hold you—I don’t understand why you make me feel this way—I want to hold you—I can’t pin you down—Let me try to love you.

But before even one of these malformed, contradictory thoughts could spill from his lips, Herbert spoke, and it felt like a scalpel went through him. 

“You could have backed me up.”

“With what?”

“In class,” Herbert huffed with the last bit of irritation he possessed. “The other day, when I was arguing with Wallace. You could have backed me up.”

“You had that argument handled. You didn’t need me. Did you?”

“Of course I didn’t.” Herbert took another sip. “But it might have been more effective. It’s lonesome, being the only voice pushing back when the whole world is against you.”

Dan reached out, gently clasping Herbert’s bandaged hand in his own, and softly squeezed it.

“I’m sorry.” And then, out of desperation, “I should walk home with you after your shift. At least for a couple weeks.”

He couldn’t read the expression in Herbert’s eyes. He seemed all at once irritated, tired, and lonely. 

“I don’t need an escort.” Herbert pulled his hand away, moving each finger carefully. “The damage is done. Good night, Daniel.”

Herbert left him in that empty kitchen, with only one thought on Dan’s mind. What he was going to do to Anthony Wallace.

[andro-dino]

“Hey, Kenchi, aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one here? Didn’t think to bring an umbrella?”

[gv80gb]

Wedding Bells

––Thank you so much –– Claire said to her hairdresser. Her hair was beautifully pulled into a low bun, in a perfectly messy way. Her makeup was already done too. The only thing missing was getting into her amazing light green dress. She was getting ready in her mother–in–law's hotel suite with her and with Hope, her sister-in-law. Her husband, Hunter, was in the groom's suite, helping his brother Hank get ready for his big day.

Hank was getting married to his High School sweetheart. It was a destination wedding, so we were all staying at a resort in Cancún where the wedding would take place. The ceremony would be starting at 2:00 pm, so an hour and a half from now, and it would take place in the beach. The reception was set to be in one of the resort's ballrooms, and it promised to be a great party. Everything about the wedding sounded fantastic, except for the fact that she would have to be carrying around her eight and a half months baby in this heat. She was sweating already, despite the fact that she was still inside an air-conditioned room. Besides that, small detail, it all sounded like a dream

––Honey, before you get dressed, I brought you something that I think you will find useful–– Rita, her mother-in-law said ––. My sister got married when I was pregnant with Hunter and I don't think I would have made it through the wedding without one of these.

She handed Claire a piece of elastic skin-colored fabric –– Spanx? –– I asked surprised.

––Yes! ––She answered ––It's designed for pregnant women. If you see, the fabric around the abdomen is softer, and the legs, the ass, the hips and the back is what will be tight. It will support your belly and back while applying pressure on your hips, relieving the tension you may have. Plus, it will make your ass look fantastic.

Claire laughed at this ––God, sounds like the invention of a lifetime –– she said, rubbing her big belly. She did need the support. Looking at it, it looked like it would fit a 5 year old. It was the tiniest piece of clothing I had ever seen for a full-grown adult, let alone a pregnant one.

Rita saw the doubt on her face and giggled ––. Don't worry dear, it expands. Here, I'll help you put it on –– She placed it in the floor opening it up so the two holes for the legs were visible. Claire stepped on them both and Rita started pulling it upwards ––. You need to close your legs tight Clairie, so this thing goes up ––. She did, and after 10 minutes or so of pulling it up her legs, the damn Spanx was finally hugging her ass and hips as it should. It felt tight, but in a good way. Pulling it past the belly was an easy task because, indeed the fabric on that area was softer. They only had to pull it a little in order for her to put my arms int the straps.

––Fewff, that was hard work ––Claire laughed, cleaning a droplet of sweat from my forehead. Damn heat!

Rita laughed with her ––. I promise you, you will thank me later –– She was sure she would, she already felt relief from something holding up the weight of her unborn baby.

Plus, her ass did look amazing with the fabric ending mid tight, and since the spanx ended went around her breasts, leaving them exposed but supported, her rack looked pretty good too.

The ceremony was beautiful. She watched her husband stand right beside her brother, fulfilling his duty as best man. The bride and groom looked radiant and filled with love for each other. And the ocean flowed peacefully behind them. A few (okay, maybe more than a few) tears slipped from her eyes as they told their vows. And everyone cheered when the minister proclaimed them husband and wife.

The only thing that could have made the ceremony better is if they had used better chairs for the guests. By the end of it her back was aching. Of course, nowadays it wasn't unusual for her back to be in pain. The beauty of the third trimester.

All the family members took some pictures with the newlyweds. Hunter and Claire had a beautiful picture taken as well. Hunter grabbing her protruding stomach lovingly while they looked into each other eyes. The next shot the photographer took of them both, Hunter was smirking, and Claire was red as a tomato. Because in that moment Hunter whispered against her ear ––When I saw you in that dress, all I could think of is how I will take it off. You know what? You look so good in it that, that maybe I'll even leave it on for our first round–– And that was the magnificent moment the picture captured.

The reception started at 4:00, and it was just as pretty as everything else (Except for the damn chairs, of course). They said hi to lots of family and friends. Hunter and Claire even danced for a while, before the pain in her back told her it was better to go sit down.

She was on her way to the bathroom when Hunter's aunt found her ––Hello Claire dear! How are you doing? ––The old lady asked.

––I'm doing great, thanks! Are you having fun tonight? –– Claire asked, even though her back was killing her. Every few minutes the sharp pain would come back, but still she smiled at her.

––Yes, yes of course. How far along are you Claire? You look ready to pop! ––She asked with a smile on her face.

––Still half a month to go! ––She said.

––Oh God! I could swear you were overdue with the size of your bump ––She frowned –– You are going to have a huge baby.

––Well, I wouldn't be so surprised, look at her father's size.

––Of course, yes! And you are not short either –– She said. She was right, Claire's stomach was enormous, but what she told her was true. Hunter was a massive guy with 6"5. And Claire wasn't exactly short, so chances were they were having a very large baby. She shuddered just thinking about pushing a watermelon sized human being into the world.

Claire's trip to the bathroom was an odyssey. She was peeing herself, but of course she had to take the Spanx off first. That was hard enough, especially around the hips, but she managed to do it. The real deal was putting it back on. She had to call her mother-in-law so she could come to the rescue. Standing in the middle of the ladies room Rita helped her put it back in place (And put her dress back on again) She finally zipped her up and went back out to the party.

Even though the party was magnificent, Claire couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. At 9:00pm her back was aching more than usual, the pain sometimes even spreading to her lower belly. She was hot and sweaty and all she wanted to do was lie down. She turned and looked to her husband, he was laughing alongside the cousins who lived on the other side of the country, they never saw each other, and everyone seemed like they were having the time of their lives. She thought she would wait another hour so she didn't seem rude and she would go back to her room. That was one of the advantages of staying at the same hotel where the wedding was going on at.

At 10:00 pm Claire grabbed Hunter's knee to grab his attention. He turned to her with a smile on her face.

––I'm heading to the room sweetie ––She said to him in a low tone.

Hunter frowned ––Why? Are you okay?

––Yeah, my back just hurts a lot, I've been standing a lot, and the fancy shoes don't help my comfort.

His frown disappeared ––Okay, let's go

––Oh, no honey! You don't have to come with me! Enjoy your family! It's your brother's wedding for God's sake ––She said sincerely. She didn't want to spoil anyone's fun.

––Are you sure baby? ––He asked

––100% You have fun

––Call me if you need anything? ––She nodded at his question. She quickly said her goodbyes around the table. And headed to say goodbye to her in- laws. Promising she would see them at breakfast tomorrow. She finally started her walk towards her room.

The thing about resorts is that sometimes they were too... big. Claire had been walking for twenty minutes when she finally reached the elevators. Once inside, she took off her shoes, allowing her feet to stretch. Another one of the back pains hit her hard. God, she needed to lay down and rest. On the walk towards the elevator, she have had 4 aches. This last one spread into her stomach, just as a few had done back in the wedding. After around 40 seconds the intensity subdued.

The elevator opened and she still had to walk through a long hallway to get to her room. she rubbed her back trying to ease another pain coming.

The moment she closed the door of the room another one followed, this time making her bend over a little, since it was spreading so much further in her lower stomach. She grunted with the pain. Could it be? No, she dismissed it, she was just exhausted form the day.

She decided to lay down on the bed, the pain in her back instantly diminishing. But now, the next pain hit her directly in the abdomen, forcing her to grab her belly. She couldn't deny it anymore. That had been a contraction. Shit, was all those back pains in the wedding been contractions as well? That would mean she had been labouring! For almost 8 hours!

She got up from the bed so she could grab her phone and let Hunter know what was happening. The moment she straightened her back a warm gush of liquid exploded out of her.

––Shit, my water–– A contraction hit her with renewed strength, making her moan ––Mmmmmmggodd ––She grabbed her belly in an attempt to relief the pain. When the contraction was over she stepped aside from the pool of liquid at her feet and decided to get the dress off so she could move better. The dressed was zipped from behind, so she had to maneuver to hold the zipper. Not even two minutes after the last one, another contraction hit her, with her still holding the zipper in her hand. The pain made her break it from the dress, and the fabric pooled at her feet.

She continued her way to the front table, where her phone was. She unlocked it and as she was opening the phone app, it died ––Oh, no no no. C'mon! –– She hit the phone against her palm uselessly.

She made her way across the room to charge her phone. She was wondering about her possibilities. She could go back to the ballroom and let Hunter know she was in labour. But that would imply getting dressed and walking for another 20 minutes on her way there only to have to get back. It sounded like a lot. Or she could wait here, labour by herself and wait for Hunter to arrive to the room. It was already 11:00 pm, so he probably wouldn't take that long, maybe a couple of hours more. She had read tons of books on pregnancy, and they said that first time mothers usually had a long labour, so Hunter would probably get in time to help her.

She decided to settle in the bed for a while, panting and moaning with her contracting body, each one stronger and deeper than the last one. She stayed there for about 45 minutes, grasping the sheets and her stomach whenever the intensity became too much. The contractions were getting closer together, only a couple of minutes between them, sometimes even less.

After a while she realized that her phone had to had battery already, so she got up from her side of the bed as she could and walked to where her phone was charging. But before she could reach it something tangled in her feet. The dress she had left on the floor made her stumble, falling on her knees. The moment she touched the floor she felt something drop against her cervix, sliding right into her birth canal. She suddenly started feeling the urge to bear down.

Without thinking a lot about it, she positioned herself in all fours and started following her body's instincts. She touched her chin to her chest and pushed as hard as she could. The pushing helped with the pain of the contractions, so Claire continued to push, happy that the pain wasn't as intense as just some moments before. But soon enough, the head was against her entrance, causing a burning sensation to surge form within her. She moaned in a way she never had before. With her hand, Claire touched her slit and felt it bulging against her tight Spanx.

DAMN IT, she had absolutely forgotten about the Spanx. Without enough time to think about what to do, another contraction pressed her belly, and without realizing it, she pushed again. The baby's head was pushed forward with this, causing the elastic fabric further. When the contraction was over, Claire stopped and took a breath. The fabric between her crotch receded, pushing her baby back inside her. Claire screamed painfully at the loss of her progress.

She had to get out of that evil piece of clothing. Putting all of her weight on her knees, she started pulling at the straps, she slid out her arms until they were free. Before she could slide the Spanx down her huge frame, another contraction came, this one longer and stronger than any before. She fell to her side as she bore down, only able to push the bulging head a little before the confining item made it go back inside. The pressure inside her was driving her crazy, and not being able to push her baby out was more painful than anything.

She needed to birth her baby as much as she needed to breathe. Anxiety started rising up within her, worried about her baby being in her birth canal way too long. Claire managed to shift from her side to her butt. She quickly rolled the tight fit down her belly, liberating her upper body. With this, the tension around her crotch was less, so when the next push came, the head started crowning. It still couldn't go completely out, but at least it was making some progress. When the pushing stopped, it went back a little, but not completely as it had been doing. Claire smiled at this, even against the burning sensation, knowing that she was closer to meeting her child.

After a contraction was over, she tried pulling the Spanx down her hips. But the fabric was so tight it was unmovable. Plus, she had to lift her bottom from the floor and she wasn't managing to do it. Before she could think another contraction came, and the moment that one finished, a new one started.

Her legs were slightly parted with the crowning head, and she realized that if she wanted the fabric to budge she had to close them. Knowing it was the only way to get out of her tight hell, Claire closed her eyes and with her hand pushed the head of her baby back inside of her. She let out a pained shriek and closed her legs as fast as she could, so her baby didn't come out again. She planted her feet on the floor and rose her ass. She was tugging at the fabric when another contraction hit her middle, she fell right down on her ass. Suddenly something shifted inside her, a new pressure started building from the top of her stomach. It fell like her own body was placing weight against her baby so it would be born faster.

When the contraction ended, the pressure did not lessen. It took all her might, but she lifted herself again, resting her weight against the side of the bed. With her legs closed the fabric was giving in more, not a lot, but definitely more. She managed to get it past her hips and to her thighs, liberating her aching pussy. The moment her ass touched the ground her legs fell open. Not a lot because they were still being obstructed by the tight roll the Spanx had created. The roll was hurting the skin on her legs. Without meaning to, the moment her legs opened up a bit the head surged again quickly, this time going up to the brow.

Beads of sweat were covering Claire's entire body. By this point, the contractions were almost non stopping, so her body pushed again, against her will. The head emerged and a gush of liquid fell from her. She began feeling the shoulder slamming against her entrance. She bore down again, with all of the strength she had, needing this baby out in that very moment. But the baby wasn't moving. She tried opening her legs more, but she couldn't. The baby was trapped once again.

Claire tried pulling down the Spanx further down, but again, her open legs wouldn't let her do it. A tear rolled down her cheek knowing what she had to do. Once more, her hand travelled to her crotch, grabbing the top of her baby's head she pushed on the opposite direction it should be going. If getting the head out was painful, getting it all back in was excruciating. Fresh tears rolled down her face, and she couldn't stop screaming in pain.

––FUUUCK, FUCK, FUCK. SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP MEEEAGHHHHHHHH –– She screamed at the top of her lungs, pain swallowing her completely. As she pushed the head back in, she felt something inside of her resisting it. I t was like there was something inside her trying to block the baby's way back in. But after the most painful seconds of her life, the head was successfully inside of her once again. She closed her legs strongly and tugged down at the torture that the Spanx had been. She managed to move it right above her knee, she could barely reach it anymore, but she was scared that if she opened her legs the baby's head would pop out again, she knew that the item was still not going to allow her to open up fully in order to let the shoulders out.

She stretched her arms as much as she could, but as much as she tried she couldn't reach it anymore. She was pushing against her closed legs in order to relief some of the pressure building against her vagina. Maybe if she stood up the fabric would fall to her feet. But, how was she going to do that? Before she could think the next contraction hit her like a train. It left her without any air in her lungs, she even began feeling dizzy. Her legs fell open once more, and she whined. But everything started to seem blurry. It was like everything was far away from her, and she couldn't care that her legs were open again. She didn't realize she was crying, and her eyes started dropping in exhaustion.

Suddenly the door of her room opened up. It was 01:20 am. Hunter's eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her wife spread naked in the floor, her legs restrained by a piece of clothing and their baby's head hanging out of her lips. She was pale and looked like she was passing out.

––Honey ––He rushed at her side –– Oh God Claire, c'mon focus on me, baby.

Claire opened her eyes ––Hunter? –– She asked in a breath that turned into a moan. She grabbed her husband shoulder as the pain awakened her. Her immense belly's shape changed with the contraction.

––Yes baby, I'm here. I need you to focus on getting this baby out, okay? How long have you been like this?

––I've been pushing for around two hours. –– She said. No wonder why she was exhausted ––. I can't get the baby past the head. The Spanx won't let me. Please get it out of me –– She begged. Hunter didn't know if his wife was referring to the Spanx or the baby, but he got to work. He couldn't slide the fabric sown with her opened legs. So he grabbed one of them and bent it, so the feet was out of the hole. Once he did this, Claire was able to open up completely. He quickly slid the Spanx out of her other leg and tossed it aside.

––Okay Claire, now you can push –– He told her. She bore down and she felt the shoulders straining against her lips. Now that she was finally open she could still feel the strange weight against her baby, pushing it out of her. Her womb contracted and her lips stretched wider than they ever had –– You are doing amazing honey, You are almost done.

In the next contraction one shoulder was out, in the following two the other. And with one last push the baby slid out of her into Hunter's expectant hands.

––It's a boy, baby. We had a boy! ––Hunter exclaimed, tears falling down his face. He placed the baby on top of the mother's chest and he leaned in to kiss her ––You are incredible honey. I'm sorry I wasn't here for the most part.

––It definitely would've made it easier ––Claire laughed. She was crying too, out of joy and pain. The contractions in her stomach were still going on, but she didn't worry, she had read that the uterus contracted until the afterbirth was delivered. A few minutes passed when something changed –– Hunter, love –– She said, panic in her voice ––. Something is not right. Check me please.

She didn't have to say it twice. In a second, Hunter was between her wife's legs. He inserted his fingers at her entrance when he felt it. Something hard and round. He smiled ––How do you feel about twins babe?

Her mouth fell open ––WHAT? ––She yelled. Soon enough a hard contraction took her body, squeezing it and torturing it ––. UUUUUUGHNNNNNN, I feel it in my birth canal.

––Yup, that's exactly where it is. I need you to push hard honey. This will be over soon. With one arm still wrapped around her baby boy, she grabbed just one of her knees and pushed as hard as her tired body allowed her. She pushed contraction after contraction, feeling the baby sliding down. She was beginning to crown when Hunter said excitedly ––I can see the head baby, you are incredible. Keep pushing!

With his hand, Hunter was controlling the progress of the baby so she wouldn't tear. With each push the baby came closer to meeting the world. After a few more contractions the head sprang out. Hunter found the cord around the neck and told her to hold off her pushes. He disentangled it and gave her the green light to keep going.

10 minutes later a cascade of fluids coming from her insides fell out of Claire, accompanying her second baby boy.

––We have another boy! ––Hunter laughed. After a while he helped her aching wife onto the bed with their sons. She breastfed them and Hunter watched fascinated. Claire didn't miss the bulge forming in her husband's pants, and she smirked, knowing that besides all the pain, she would totally do it again.

Now they rested together as the family they were. Tomorrow they would have a long explanation to give when they showed up to breakfast with two extra guests.

[sunnysviolin]

Oh god that. That shattered AU broke me. Kel angst is my new horrible addiction and I swear I. I need to know... wtf happens with him and Hero. I can see so vividly Hero trying to keep the last semblance of his old brother back but it just fails every time, literally the only reason Hero is trying to continue on is because he doesn't want to leave Kel behind, that he made a promise and he was going to stick to it. So I must ask... does Kel kill himself as well? Or even accidentally? My heart h u r t s pardner..... sad yeehaw

Welllll we know the answer to the last part of that ask, but I do want to continue this series, so I’m gonna use the one ask that I have about it. Before anything I will say like I always do with Shattered AU that this is a dark AU. There is no happy endings, and pay attention to the TWs. 

TW: Suicide, TW: Depression, TW: Major Character Death, TW: Rage, TW: Grief

Dear Hero, 

No one else wrote a letter, but I couldn’t do that to you. I know that you spent so much time wondering if you could have done anything different for everyone else. I want you to know you couldn’t have done anything different for me

Hero had begged his parents to be allowed to stay. He had begged and pleaded to take the semester off. It was just one semester, he was still going to graduate early at this rate, why couldn’t he just stay? Hero knew Kel needed him. Kel might not be opening up, but being with Hero seemed to be comforting for his little brother at the very least. Hero knew that if he had more time, he could crack through Kel’s shell and try to start healing what was inside.

I remember when Mari died. You were so tired and upset. I didn’t get it then, but I do now. I know that when you get tired like this it’s hard to do anything. It’s hard to breathe, it’s hard to think, it’s just all so hard. I probably didn’t make it any easier by pretending everything was fine. I understand why you snapped at me. 

Hero’s parents had practically thrown him onto the train. They reassured him over and over that they could take care of Kel. They would keep an eye on him, they would make sure he took his meds, and ate, and got to school on time. They said this all while rolling their eyes and giving him good natured sighs. They both acted like this was something they were used to, but Hero knew this was different. When this had happened to him, they had left him to find his own way back. He wouldn’t let that happen to Kel, mostly because Hero wasn’t sure Kel would find his way back. 

Right before you left for school you told me you always felt guilty for not coming back that night. I want you to know that even if you had, I would still be doing this.  

They had forced Hero back to school, but it didn’t matter. Hero couldn’t think about school at all. All he could think about was how to help Kel. He ignored his classes in favor of reading about recovering after loss, he didn’t bother to study anything except what might help him get through to his brother. There wasn’t anything more important than Kel right now, and if he was being completely honest, there was a part of Hero that was spitefully going to fail the semester just to prove to his parents how wrong they were. Above all, Hero called Kel every single night. Their phone calls last year had been frequent, but short. Usually just a quick fifteen minute chat updating each other on their days. Now their phone calls lasted hours and hours, and mostly consisted of Hero rambling on while Kel hummed and made one word answers. It wasn’t perfect, but it was important. 

You were why I didn’t do this yet, even though it’s been on my mind for years. First Mari, then Basil, then Sunny. How could I ever do that to you, when I knew what it felt like to be in your shoes? You were trying so hard to help me, you’re still trying so hard. You call and you call and you always want to listen. I’m sorry I don’t want to talk. 

For the first time, Kel didn’t pick up the phone. His parents said Kel was sleeping, and they could talk tomorrow. Hero’s stomach dropped, and his mind went fuzzy. He needed to be there, he needed to see Kel. If he couldn’t hear Kel’s voice, then he needed to see his little brother to know he was still alive. He must’ve said the last part out loud, because his mother was adamant that he stay at school. She was so sure that both of her sons needed to get back to their normal routines, that the way to get things to normal was to force them to be that way. Hero knew better. He knew Kel needed him. He hung up on his parents, pacing back and forth with shaking hands. He didn’t know what to do. It was too late for a train, and he didn’t have a car. Hero just didn’t know what to do. 

I know you’re trying, and I hope you know I was trying too. I really was, I promise. It’s just...it’s too much. It’s all too much I’m just done. I’m done trying, and I’m done waiting for things to get better when I know they won’t. I don’t see the point anymore. I’m going to die regardless, so why should I go through fifty more years of feeling like this, only to get to the same end? 

Hero grabbed his shoes, running out of the dorm room and across campus to his friend’s midnight study group. They had started doing this for their organic chemistry class in their first year and then kept it up because midnight was the only time that the library truly was quiet enough to get work done. He hadn’t joined them in weeks, and he wasn’t sure they would even consider him a friend anymore, but Hero needed their help. One look at his wild desperate eyes and his pleas, and Tristan was grabbing his keys and handing them to Hero. It was an eight hour car ride, nine and a half because he hit traffic. It was nine in the morning when Hero got home and found the letter on his bed. When they found Kel, the police told him and his parents that Kel had most likely died early that morning, around 7:30 or 8:00. Hero was sure if he had just been an hour faster in making his decision to come home, then Kel might still be here. 

I know it’s going to hurt you, I know that I’m being selfish, but like I said. It’s just too much now. I don’t know if I believe in God or anything. I don’t know what kind of God makes everything that happened to us happen, but if there is a God out there, I hope he lets us all be together when this is all over. We can go for a picnic by the pond like we used to. That’s where I’m going now. That seems like a good place.

He waited until the police left to speak to his parents. He didn’t even mean to start fighting with them, but there was no way he couldn’t. He had started off just talking, trying to ask them why they hadn’t listened to him when he had known. They refused to hold themselves accountable. That’s why he had ended up in a screaming match with his mother. That had to be why rage was boiling in his veins and clouding his thoughts. Hero had begged them to let him stay. Hero had told them Kel needed him. They hadn’t listened, and now his brother was dead. His brother, the love of his life, his friends, all of them gone. Kel was all he had left, and they had taken him away. 

I did love you. I did. I promise I did. This doesn’t mean I didn’t love you.

Hero took the letter and the keys to Tristan’s car. He didn’t need to stay, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t care that his mother was wailing about losing her boy, he didn’t care that his father was trying to get him to come sit and be with them. He just didn’t care. The only person he had left to care about was gone, because Hero hadn’t been there. He wasn’t going to go to another funeral, he wasn’t going to see them lower his little brother into the ground. He wasn’t going to continue the endless loop of torture that his life seemed to have on repeat. 

I’m sorry, Hero. I hope you can forgive me. Maybe this is for the best. Now you don’t have to worry about me anymore.

Hero walked down his driveway to his borrowed car, ignoring his parent’s calling behind him. There, right where the pavement met the road, was Aubrey. Her hair was messy all around her, her eyes bloodshot. The police had told him she was there when they arrived. They had questioned her, but after reading Kel’s note, they were sure she hadn’t been involved. Hero could have told them that himself, but it seemed no one believed that he knew anything. Maybe they were right. She asked him if he was leaving. She asked if he was coming back. His silence was response enough. She walked away before he could say anything, and that was good. Hero didn’t have anything to say anymore. 

Maybe I’ll see you again. 

There was really only one road out of Faraway these days. The construction around town left all the exits blocked off. Hero had memoized the route to and from his college almost a year ago, just to be safe. He had to take the third right to get on the highway. Hero drove past the third right. If he missed the third right, he could take the next left and turn around. He ignored the left. Hero drove straight until he couldn’t drive straight anymore, and then on a whim he took the right turn. He wasn’t sure where he was going exactly, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. 

[some-kindofgnome]

meet me in the afterglow

After college graduation, you took an all-summer backpacking trip around Europe with your best friend. Now you've got one last night together before coming home as lovers.

characters: eijirou kirishima x f!reader

wc: 2.4k

tags: smut (18+ please!), aged-up characters, quirkless au, implied friends-to-lovers, fluff, mentions of drinking/the sliiiiightest bit of tipsiness, swedish condoms, no beta we die like that bottle of wine

notes: @the-moons-raes and I discussed travelling with BNHA boys at some length a lil while ago, so I wrote this sweet lil scene for her! Consider it a (very) belated birthday present my dear. 💖 xoxoo

MASTERLIST

The sky’s faded from powder-blue to apricot by the time you stumble together into the bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you giggle. You’ve been grinning all night, so hard it’s starting to hurt your wine-warmed cheeks. But this is the happiest you’ve been in a very long time.

“That was,” Eijirou starts, “one of the- no, the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“We should’ve ordered another bottle of that wine,” you muse. He’s got his hands on your hips and you twist in his grip, curling your fingers around his palms. His face has gone pink, but his eyes are sparkling and you’ve already decided you want to preserve this feeling for the rest of your life.

“I don’t think you need anything else to drink tonight,” he teases smoothly, pulling you close with his fingertips digging into the gauzy fabric of your dress. He leans down and pushes his lips against yours, the last tartness of the strawberry gelato you finished on the boardwalk still lingering in the tender flick of his tongue.

Tonight falls at the tail end of a long backpacking trip across Europe that you’ve been wanting to take for as long as you can remember. You’d never planned to take anybody with you at all, let alone the man you’d wind up falling for.

But Eiji’s always been pretty good at defying your expectations.

The rest of the summer hasn’t been this glamorous. You’d spent most nights shacked up in rickety little hostel beds, bunking together in rooms of six or camping out in the backseat of a tiny rental car. But the sleepless nights and sore backs and restricted luggage hadn’t changed a thing. You’ve been in heaven all summer long.

To celebrate your last couple of nights in this hemisphere, you checked into one of Naples’ top-rated hotels. It’s still not the most luxurious room on the market, but compared to the military-issue bunk beds you’ve been sleeping on for the past eight weeks, it might as well be paradise.

Especially now, given the changed nature of your relationship.

You got on the plane together two months ago nursing a deep, intense crush on your best friend. You’ve been close with Eijirou since your first year in college together, when he was assigned to the dorm room beside yours. And for as long as you’d known him, you assumed you’d be loving him from a distance.

But somewhere between Brussels and Berlin, the line between friend and lover started to blur. Since then, it’s been completely erased.

“Come on,” you protest, flinging your arms around his neck and clasping them together behind his head. “I can hardly feel a thing.”

He ran out of hair gel two weeks ago and he’s been wearing his hair down ever since, tied into a loose little ponytail at the nape of his neck. The dark roots of his natural colour are starting to show at his crown after going nearly two months without so much as a haircut.

To you, he’s never looked sweeter.

“That’s my point,” he insists, descending into tipsy, cheerful laughter. “You’re so drunk y’can’t feel a thing. C’mere, it’s time to get you to bed.”

His euphoric grin twists around the edges with mischief as he stoops, sweeping you off your feet with a quiet little grunt of effort. You burst out laughing, letting one arm drop around his neck as your head falls back in deepening mirth.

“Take me to bed,” you swoon, dropping purposely limp in his arms. You haven’t been able to do any of this since that night in Athens a couple of weeks ago where you miraculously had an entire hostel bunkroom to yourselves.

Even then, those cots didn’t make it easy.

Tonight you’ve got a king bed all to yourselves, which Kirishima plants you on before crossing to the window and throwing it open. The night air is velvety and sweet, rolling in like heady steam and waking your senses as you watch him ditch his shoes and crawl across the plush bedspread to settle down beside you.

“You are insanely beautiful,” he croons, propping one head on his arm and smoothing his fingers affectionately down your temple. “I can’t believe I get to tell you that.”

He leans in to kiss you after that, tasting you carefully as his hand drifts from your cheek to your neck to your side. He’s a careful kisser, tasting of the last hints of that sweet summer wine that’s filled both your heads.

Picking up on your eagerness, he breaks from your lips to push attentive little kisses down the side of your neck. But as he reaches the hem of the floaty little dress you wear, he pauses and finds your eye.

“Can I?”

He’s already sliding one palm down over the curve of your hip, but it pauses at your thigh, and the earnest little quirk in his brow is so cute you can’t help but giggle.

“Do you really need to ask?” you quip.

He hums thoughtfully against your skin, already mouthing at your collarbone. “Just making sure.”

There are oversized buttons lining the center front of your dress, and he takes his time popping open every single one. He opens the dress far enough that he could have easily pulled it down over your hips, but he doesn’t stop there. Instead, you get to watch as he works open the last button with quiet, deep concentration, and when he finally does, he pushes the folds open around your body with a loving little triumphant smile.

“There’s my girl,” he croons as he crawls atop you once more, shedding his sweaty t-shirt in the process. You’re chest-to-chest when he catches your lips again, and his skin is still a little warm from the afternoon you’d spent at the beach before dinner.

He kisses you long and low and slow, giving you plenty of time to let your thighs fall open around the slope of his hips. Eiji presses naturally forward, pushing the ridge of his pelvis and the stiff denim of his shorts against your flimsy underwear. He huffs quietly into your mouth, and as you shift and squirm beneath him you can feel his cock stirring against you.

“Eiji,” you whimper, turning your face sharply to one side. “Don’t make me wait.”

In the absence of your mouth, he noses attentively down the column of your throat. His eyelashes flutter at your jaw and you feel it when he purses his lips and swallows hard.

“Okay,” he rasps. “Okay, I gotcha.” He rears back, sitting up on his haunches to unbutton his shorts. Before he gets up to shed them, he rests a hand on the plane of your belly, smiling so innocently down at you it shouldn’t make you throb.

But it does.

“Ready for me already, pretty girl?” Eiji muses, and you have to bite your lip hard to keep from rolling over and screaming into your pillow as loudly as possible.

“Been ready for you since the beach,” you tease back, and it works, since his ears are turning red as he slips out of bed. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his undershorts and shucks both garments in one smooth motion, hunching over to let them drop to the floor while he steps unceremoniously out of them.

His cock’s half-hard already, sitting full and heavy between his thighs and swelling self-consciously under your gaze. He’s exactly as big as you always sort of knew he was. He’s not shy about it, either. He can’t afford to be.

But he doesn’t know how beautiful he is, sunburned and sweating in the fading golden-hour light of your last sunset in Italy. You want to pet the soft little bristle of dark hair that dusts his chest, follow the taper of it all the way down to that perfect trail that always used to disappear under his shorts.

Not anymore. You get to see him at his most vulnerable now.

And you will not misuse that trust.

“Come here,” you purr, pushing yourself onto your elbows so he can see the desire burning in your gaze for him.

He leans instinctively toward you, hands twitching by his sides. He snaps out of a little reverie with a hard blink, stooping in front of his shorts and fishing out his slim little travel wallet.

“Hang on.”

He flips through the creased euros and museum tickets, carding out a wrapped condom. He climbs back onto the bed and passes it to you with a shy little grin.

“I know you like to do the honours.”

The condom comes from a packet you bought in the wee hours at some twenty-four hour roadside convenience store before bedding down in a rented car together. The instructions are in Swedish, but you know what you’re doing.

By the time you get the condom unwrapped, Eiji’s on his knees in front of you and his cock is fully hard out of sheer anticipation. You reach between his thighs and wrap your fingers around his warm flesh, making him shudder. And you drop one sweet, warm kiss to his mouth before you focus.

He rolls his hips quietly into your touch as you handle the job with delicate precision, unrolling the condom all the way to his base.

“Ready?” He asks you, but you’re already laying back against the pillows and thumbing off your underwear, slick and aching for him.

“Get over here before I start without you,” you tease, and he is powerless to resist you. He anchors himself on his knees, hooking each of your legs over one of his powerful thighs. He reaches for you and his cock sweeps the inside of your thigh as it bobs between you. You’ve been wanting this from the moment you saw this room, the perfect ending to a life-changing trip.

Eiji sinks lower, letting the barrel of his chest rise and fall with a deep, steadying breath. He reaches between you to line himself up with you, casting his eyes up to yours when he feels you.

“Ready?” He repeats himself, and this time the humor’s gone. You nod quietly against the pillow and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together tightly.

You squeeze hard as he starts to slot himself inside you. He stretches you deeply, especially without any preparation. But he knows how to keep you comfortable, moving slowly and smoothly. He braces a hand on your belly as he bottoms out, but he does not pause there. Instead, he starts to ease into a lazy rhythm, sweeping his thumb between your folds to find the swelling nub of your clit.

“Fuck,” you whine, and he flinches a little inside you.

“God,” he gasps, bending over to press his forehead- sticky with sweat- into yours. “Tell me I’m not dreaming, yeah?”

You reach up and lightly pinch his chest with your free hand, and he grins above you.

“You’re good,” you confirm, hearing the breathlessness echo in your own voice.

“I’m not gonna last long like this,” he brushes. You shake your head.

“Don’t care. Just fuck me.”

His brow lifts against yours. After a chuckle of disbelief, he sits up.

“Aye aye, captain.”

He squeezes your fingers tightly and begins to thrust.

He does not hold back with you, keeping the pad of his thumb winding tight circles into your clit as he fucks you with eager diligence. You revel in the slap of your bodies, the fact that you can spread out and make noise, moan for him like you’ve always wanted to. Finally alone together for real. No stolen moments of privacy here. You can take as much as you want.

“Eiji,” you beg, beginning to clench around him as you feel the first twinges of your climax approaching.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he huffs, borderline incoherent as the flush spreads down his neck and chest. “Let go for me, I gotcha.”

In a dozen thrusts he’s got you falling, letting high whimpers escape your throat as your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick shaft. He rubs you diligently through your climax, fucking you steadily until you whine and paw his hand away, overstimulated and sensitive.

“I’m there,” he promises. “I’m there, I’m there, I’m….. f-fuck!” His jaw falls slack as he throws his head back, thrusting headlong into a tight climax that has him trembling against you. His hips go still, but you can feel the way his cock twitches inside your spent walls as he fills the condom.

When he’s finished he stays there for a moment, shoulders dropping while the rest of his body goes slack. He reaches up, scraping sweaty strands of hair off his forehead before he grins sleepily down at you.

“Did you…” He starts, eyes turning inquisitive. Someday he’ll be able to tell, but for now you’re just glad he’s asking.

“Yeah,” you hum, eyes bright despite the weight setting quickly into your limbs. It’s worth it for the pride that surges visibly through him, and he pulls out of you with a triumphant grin spreading his lips.

“Good,” he gushes, slipping quietly away to dispose of the condom. He’s hardly gone for a handful of seconds, and when he comes back he crawls eagerly up to your side and pulls you into his arms, curling his body attentively around yours.

“This is nice,” you confess, drifting pleasantly in the wine-and-sex-induced fog that rests heavy in your brain.

“Hmm?” Eiji’s already half-asleep above you, eyelids drooping as the light fades from the window beside the bed.

“This,” you prompt again. “Not having to get dressed again right away. We should do this more often.”

“I sure hope we do,” he enthuses. “When we get back, I’m not letting you unpack until we consummate our relationship on the right hemisphere.”

That was the longest you’d gone around him without laughing in a while. Even half-asleep, though, his wisecracks are enough to make you snort.

“Deal,” you hum, letting your eyes fall shut as the world bleeds out of focus around you. It’s not even eight o’clock and you’re sure you’ll have him again before nightfall. But for now, you’re more than happy to bask in the afterglow with the one person in the world you never thought you’d make it there with.

[leiawritesstories]

Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

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

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair. 

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job. 

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth. 

As if she knew anything her staff actually did. 

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together. 

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation. 

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself. 

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order. 

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English. 

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

~

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple. 

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved. 

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure. 

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved. 

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve. 

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind. 

“You broke both of your hearts” 

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart. 

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

~

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice. 

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds. 

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city. 

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner. 

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed. 

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction. 

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth. 

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love.  We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. 

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages. 

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan. 

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof. 

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech. 

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying. 

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan. 

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow. 

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything. 

She was worthy of him. 

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified. 

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

~

Present day. 

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked. 

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch. 

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.” 

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

~

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

~

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

[7wanderingpaws]

let's have some gentle fun - m

Dedicated to anyone who is left thirsty after Drown; there is a sprinkle of Disappear as well, so beware.

This is written especially for @to-all-the-stories-i-love​ thank you so much for your support and I really hope you will like this oneshot! I apologize for the wait dear ❤

Word count: 7K

 🛑 This one shot contains explicit mature content and alcohol consumption. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with the themes or under 18 (also dont listen to Drown then). Thank you!

You had seen them a couple of times in the club. Their swaying bodies, his wandering hands and her obnoxious roll of hips couldn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Well, anyone who didn’t look particularly close (unlike you had been doing for the past hour). 

Despite the loudness of the music, you always thought you could hear people’s conversations in the dark room full of dancing bodies. It was most probably a defect caused by your occupation but you never minded - the frustration of customers when you couldn’t hear their orders over the deafening house music was something you wanted to avoid at all costs and you did. You were thankful until now. Hearing their (imaginary) conversation did you little to no good.

Before you could purse your lips in distaste, someone elbowed you, effectively gaining your attention. “Huh? What?”

Your co-worker and the owner of the club, Jiyong, smirked, shaking his head. The tattoos littering his skin were shining brighter tonight. “Troubles in love land?”

You scrunched up your nose, pretending to be oblivious. Pretending. It was second nature almost. “Dunno what you’re talking about, dragon,” you replied quietly but loudly enough for him to hear you. He was mixing drinks, preparing them on the tray that you were supposed to bring to that cursed table with half of your “friends”. What were friends anyway?

“You need to resolve this unknown issue then,” advised Jiyong, grabbing a whisky. When you noticed where he was pouring it, you gasped, reaching out to hold his arm. He shot you a questioning look. “Huh? What is it?”

“Why are you pouring it into the coffee? Who the hell ordered coffee?” It was a freaking night club.

Jiyong only chuckled and winked your way before proceeding to pour the whiskey into the small cup of espresso. “I’m pretty sure it’s your table.”

Oh.

Looking behind your shoulder, you noticed some of your friends laughing at the VIP section. They didn’t know you arrived at your shift and took over their orders. But now, you were getting a hunch about who ordered the weird combo.

“Here,” Jiyong brought you back to planet Earth. “You need to do something with that stare of yours, really,” he commented before moving on to the next orders. “I’d piss my pants were I to be on the receiving end of it. You’re scowling.”

You gasped and snatched the tray skillfully, throwing him an offended frown which only prompted him to chuckle. You were marching towards the table of your friends.

They all welcomed you with cheering but you knew better than that. It was just a clout; some way to make you feel like you were cool and important before they would quickly forget about your existence. You made sure to ask out loud (while smiling) who wanted which drink until only coffee was left and you had to face the inevitable.

She was sitting on his lap from sideways, which you thanked all the club gods for, because nobody wanted to see her straddling him. Well, you didn’t for sure.

Baekhyun smiled at you kindly, his eyes following your movements the entire time despite having a beautiful chick sitting on his thighs. Gulp. Those thighs.

“Thank you,” he made sure to say, when you stood up to your full length. Shooting him a very pressed, almost painful smile, you nodded once, accidentally meeting his gaze that you thought was not on you any longer.

You were wrong. But were you wrong as well when you always felt electricity curse down your veins whenever you would look at each other? Was the attraction just from your side? Why was he so hard to approach yet so easy to talk to once you actually managed to spike up a conversation?

Right. Your friends always snatched him away. While he was the center of the circle, you were the edge; the misunderstood one yet always invited. Doing chatty-chats with the famous ones in the circle of your friends seemed to be hard because if they didn’t really vibe with you, they’d made sure you could feel it. Baekhyun not once did, yet his apologetic smiles whenever someone wanted to talk to him when he was about to start a conversation with you, hurt more than any of your other friends’ attitude.

Reciprocating his stare a little longer, you finally turned, thinking he would be paying attention to the pretty lady on his lap. Yet again, you were wrong. He was looking even when you were far gone and back to the bar to continue your shift.

-

He was your neighbor, too. How damn lucky. Living on the same floor should have been a blessing; the best news for someone with a crush as crazy as yours, but it was anything but. 

Hearing him bring his girlfriend home, hearing them do stuff made you sick in your stomach but you never said a word. If anything, you were glad at least he could have a certain someone with whom he could spend the intimate times with.

You, on the other hand, weren’t so open. Despite working in a club, you rarely ever let another man touch you or agree to their invitations; you did receive many of them on a daily basis but club was a workplace for you and certainly not your kind of fun. Of course, pretty much every one of your friends had the misconception that you were wild and had banged half of the town given your curves, the way you dressed those curves and sending convincing, confident smiles. You were pretty sure Baekhyun believed in them, too, and it made you sad for some reason. If there was one person you didn’t want to think you were promiscuous or too open-minded, it was him.

Currently, it was eight in the morning when you were just typing in the code to your apartment. A small headache and swollen ankles made you want to pass out on bed, too tired after work. Just when you were about to close the door behind you, someone called out your name before you heard rushed steps.

Quickly opening the door and recognizing the voice, you felt your heart skip a beat when you noticed Baekhyun on your doorstep.

“Hey,” he smiled, somewhat sheepishly. He was in his work attire - very, very handsome suit. He wasn’t wearing a jacket over the dress shirt which made you momentarily distracted when you stared at the way the textile stretched over the broadness of his shoulders. The necktie seemed so thin compared to the vastness of his shoulders.

Bringing your eyes back to meet his, you caught a smirk and you quickly cleared your throat. “Hey. What’s up? You’re up early.” Oh god, you knew he was heading to the company, why would you say such nonsense?

He let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, just in time to catch you,” he winked and your heartbeat became erratic. “Could you please lend me baking soda?” Your eyes widened in surprise and he added: “I mean- if you have. I forgot that I don’t have one but I already started on the cake.”

It took you exactly three seconds to overcome your surprise and nodded hastily, opening the door wider for him to come in. “Sure, sure. Don’t stand outside, what will people think, huh,” you added sarcastically which earned you a snort in return. You took off your trainers and rushed to the kitchen, meanwhile thinking where the hell you had baking soda. It’d been a while you used your kitchen for its actual purpose.

“Nice flat,” Baekhyun commented, looking around with curiosity.

You smiled to yourself while you opened a cabinet. He was living in the middle unit of the corridor and those were the priciest of apartments in the building. The side ones were for poorer people, like you. The fact that he still had the need to compliment your small but cozy apartment made you feel warm.

“I like how you wisely use up the space,” he continued, eyeing the small, dark green couch that had a cream-colored carpet in front of it. You liked to bury your feet into the fur while watching tv. “You have an eye for design.” He stood now next to you and it made you momentarily freeze.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, not looking his way. “I prefer to think twice about what I’m spending my money on.”

Baekhyun smiled, endearment visible but not to you. When it came to him, you didn’t want to admit to anything you saw, for it could be just a product of your desires.

“I like that,” he said in a lower tone and this time you made sure to keep searching despite electric shocks spiking through your heart. “There is so much more to you than it meets the eye.” He looked around your kitchen, pushing his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “I feel like you’re so much more interesting than you ever let on.”

Baking soda. Finally. Grabbing the package you handed it to him with a triumph. “You could hardly know when you’re so busy with your own, uh, stuff.” When Baekhyun didn’t accept the package, you pushed it into his chest. “Not like half of you all care, anyway.”

Baekhyun messily grabbed the package, almost dropping it as he tried to save the situation. “No, that isn’t the truth. Of course we care-“

You giggled. “You’re so cute. Of course I don’t mean it!” you exclaimed, faking a genuine smile. “I have a man hiding in the closet so...“ you said, wanting him to be out of your apartment already. Bad decision.

“You have a what?” he frowned, confused.

Licking your lips, you raised an eyebrow. “You heard me. Go before your precious lady needs to wait for you any longer. Not that I’m throwing you out of the house-“

“You have a man here?”

Both of you were quiet now. He was staring into your eyes, something so hard for you to decipher flashing in those deep orbs. His eyes seemed almost black, swallowing up every light that dared to enter including you.

“It’s what you all think about me, isn’t it?” you mumbled quietly. “That I bring men home, that I’m the quiet before the storm. I know that’s what you all say behind my back. I’m just living up to your knowledge.”

Baekhyun’s face became unreadable. His features evened out. “Way to ruin the mood.”

You laughed. “Whatever mood you’re talking about-“

He stepped closer, silencing you right away. “I know people are judgemental fucks but I would have always said otherwise about you.”

“Meaning?”

He gave you a lopsided smirk, not reaching his eyes. “I can hardly judge you when I know so little about you. I never believe those rumors and you shouldn’t give a damn either. If anything, you’re the most intriguing among our friends.”

He couldn’t tell, but breath hitched in your throat from the way his eyes were drinking you up, their intensity burning every sane thought you could produce. “Then why do you always yield to those friends? We had many chances to talk. But it wasn’t me who always turned around at the last moment.”

The tension was almost palpable when you were looking up at him.

He didn’t reply and you realized the headache you were gifted with today. Sighing tiredly, you smiled up. “Whatever. Don’t answer that. Go. I bet your girlfriend is waiting.” When he didn’t move, you snorted a laugh. “Why are you even baking at this hour? You’ll be late to work.”

Only after that he let out a sigh and made a few steps backwards, watching you. “My girlfriend is my secretary. Thought I’d surprise her with a cake.”

And the mood was dampened yet again. Pressing your lips together, you nodded, crinkling up your eyes to show him you were smiling instead of dying. “What a wonderful employer you are. Bet she’ll be loving it.”

“What’s your favorite cake?” he asked curiously as he backed all the way to the door where he stopped, making you groan inwardly again. He pursed his lips, staring you down and causing goosebumps on the back of your spine. “I’d say you're a raspberry cake person.”

“Raspberry?” you scoffed but laughed nonetheless

He hummed, his eyes becoming droopy as he observed you without a word.

Swallowing, you breathed. “Care to explain yourself?”

Slowly, the side of his lip stretched up in the most flirty way you’ve ever seen on him and you swore you felt something move inside you. “Maybe one day.”

He turned around and raised his hand with the baking soda packaging, shaking it. “Thanks for this!”

You watched him enter his unit but not before he looked back at you. Waving one last time, he disappeared inside, leaving you with a wildly beating heart and a very bothered mind.

-

He broke up with her. You knew for a while when there was barely any movement in his apartment (not that you eavesdropped!) and then the small gossips began in your friends’ circle.

This was just another gathering, another evening full of fake smiles and small talks because you couldn’t win yourself more than that; an actual deep conversation. Baekhyun was absent but someone said he was on his way which, to your dismay, made your heart beat wildly in your chest. Quickly gulping down the whiskey, you made a face but didn’t follow it up with a soft drink.

“It was a bad break up,” you heard from the girls chatting nearby. “But it was him who let her go. She cheated on him with the CFO.”

Your heart involuntarily dropped at the information. Who, in their right mind, cheated on such a gorgeous man like Byun Baekhyun?

“She wanted him back but Baek was adamant. I guess he is truly a man of his words. I wonder who will be the lucky one next? Just imagine fucking hi-“

Thankfully your phone vibrated just in time. Quickly fishing out your phone, you saw a couple of text messages from Jiyong.

sorry to bother you sweets i’m short on staff tonight pls save me by coming in? u won’t have to work during holidays promise

Weirdly enough, you couldn’t have been more happy to get out of the suffocating atmosphere. At least you had the needed push of whiskey and with a fairly good mood could stand up and bid farewell to everyone, though they didn't care much.

Just as you were about to leave the restaurant, Baekhyun entered. With a single glance, he pinned you to your place because as the wind blew from the outside and his coat fluttered around, while his hair was messily falling into his dark orbs, you forgot how to breathe.

“Yo, Baekhyun’s here! Finally, man!”

The shouts were coming from your table while none of them even bothered to call out to you.

Smiling softly, you mumbled a hi before reaching for the door he was still holding open before you felt his arm grab yours swiftly, turning you to look at him. He seemed out of breath.

“Where are you going? I just arrived.”

“I’ve got a last minute plan. They need me at the club tonight,” you replied, pressing another smile while trying hard to control your frantic heart. You became all too aware of his touch on your arm but he wasn’t about to let go for whatever reason. “They’re waiting for you, Baek,” you added quietly when the shoutings weren’t subsiding.

Baekhyun didn’t spare a single glance at his friends when he took your hand and led you out of the restaurant. “Let me drive you. It’s already late.”

“No, it’s fine, really-“

“I insist,” he chuckled, swiftly pushing aside your protests. “It wouldn’t have been fun without you there anyway.”

You wanted to stop and stare at him but you decided against it. He was affecting you too much and you could already feel your trembly hands because he was still holding you.

“They just talked shit behind my back, didn’t they,” he asked, sounding more like a statement, and with one last squeeze let your hand go. He pushed his hand into the pocket of his coat and you couldn’t help but swoon at how handsome he was despite being after a break up and a possible heart ache.

You decided to keep quiet in means to communicate the answer. Baekhyun was smart so when he snickered, you knew he got the message.

His black Audi was parked just by the curb, looking like the horse of the dark knight, easily becoming one with the night. Baekhyun opened the passenger’s door for you, but you almost instantly froze when he stood a tad too close to your body, your face right next to his neck as he covered your entire being with his. He gave a pointed look to your short skirt and you understood, while growing a little warm at his thoughtfulness.

Those couple of seconds while he rushed around the car to sit next to you were a little delirious. The way your hand was still burning up from his touch, feeling like you’d been caressed by love itself. The quietness of his expensive car, the smell of the leather mixed with a small hint of forest, the way it felt so comfortable to sit in it with the seat set low and making your legs so high. The way all the sounds were blocked out and nobody could see inside given the tinted windows. All your senses were high on alert and when you heard the opening of his door and him swiftly sitting down and adjusting himself behind the wheel, you felt your throat go dry just a little bit.

You didn’t realize your mouth was slightly open, lips gently parted before the man himself turned to you with a cheeky smile.

To save yourself you quickly blurted: “What a lovely car you have here, Baekhyun!”

Baekhyun let out an amused laugh as he buckled himself with one hand, while his other one fumbled with the radio. He shot you a look. “Thanks. I’m quite proud to have it, not gonna lie.

“It suits you,” you added, and let out a little oh when he pressed the button and the car came to life. “I always thought you’d be a black car kinda guy.”

He shot you a curious look before looking back at the traffic as he tried to make a turn to the main road. “What does that mean, missy?”

You giggled at the nickname and you heard him heave out a low chuckle too. “Just a thought. Nothing much.”

He hummed, entertained, when a comfortable silence enveloped the inside of the car. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, trying to focus very hard on the world outside instead of his leisure stance on the driver's seat; left hand preoccupied by the wheel while the other casually rested between the two of you. “You should.”

You said it so quietly you genuinely didn’t think he would hear it. Leaving you in the utter obliviousness, Baekhyun heard your voice loud and clear but didn’t acknowledge it. To the ever-so soft spoken you, he always was ready to listen, ready to get to know you. Just like you had trouble keeping your stares to yourself, he wasn’t anything different; that darned short skirt hiking a tad too high on your thighs for him to keep his cool. Your legs seemed endless in the passenger seat of his car and he never wanted to pull over this much in his life.

Heaving out a sigh, he said: “Mind if I join for a bit? I think I need a drink,” he told you once he stopped at the curb, the streets yet to be filled up with party people.

Shooting him a look while you unbuckled your seatbelt, you nodded: “Sure. Will that be okay, though?” You nudged your chin towards him. “You’re driving.”

Baekhyun smiled and automatically reached out, tapping your knee gently. “Don’t worry, I have my ways.”

You sprung out of the car, breathing heavily because god damn, did he just touch you? You. Wanted. More.

It didn’t take you long to prepare for the shift, Jiyong basically squeezing the life out of you for saving him at the last minute. “But shit, who is that dude with you?” he asked quietly in awe when you were standing at the other side of the bar, sneakily watching Baekhyun sip his drink. He was standing out, still being in his work attire - a gorgeous striped suit, with his long Burberry coat and almost white hair lusciously licked back, having only a few strands obscure his handsome forehead. He didn’t look like he came clubbing for sure. But he certainly looked like a good time after clubbing.

You tried to keep your saliva back. “He is just a friend.” You cringed at the sentence. “He broke up with his girlfriend recently, so he might get shitfaced soon.”

That was what you genuinely believed in. Why else would he come with you if not to drink away his hurt emotions?

Jiyong threw you a quizzical look. “You know, you can be super oblivious sometimes.”

“What are you talking about?”

He smirked. “That man kept eyeing you up and down ever since you entered my club. I was worried he’d start drooling all over the floor.”

You rolled your eyes. “As I said,” you pressed skeptically, “he broke up with his hot assistant. There is no way someone like him would want someone like me.“

Jiyong nudged you, not giving two damns about your worries. “Make him forget her then.”

“What?”

“C’mon, sweets,” purred Jiyong confidently, always the one up for a game, “ease up a bit, have a glass or two and make him forget. He definitely wants to forget.”

You stared at him, wondering, imagining and then ending up finding the idea ridiculous. Baekhyun would never give in to your advances even though they would be completely honest, be it intoxicated or not. The idea of kissing him sent shocks down your body.

“Whatever. Let’s see what the night brings,” you murmured when you accidentally caught Baekhyun’s eye. The warm, wide smile he gave you in that instant could heal all the illnesses. Could you cure him, though?

-

“Baek, just head home,” you told him two hours later. He was patiently waiting for something that you didn’t know about, his drink long forgotten. He wasn’t even tipsy when he looked at you with wide, bright eyes.

“I’ll wait for you,” he told you gently.

You looked confused. “Listen, there is no need. I still have work to do and-“

He ran his hand over your forearm, bringing goosebump up. “I really don’t mind though. I want to take you home.”

The way he was looking at you… it was all so surprising and telling a story by itself. He bit his lip when you didn’t reply and you still refused to believe that spark of want in his eyes. “Hm? Unless I’m bothering you, in that case…” he retreated his hand quickly and you were fast to shake your head and grab it back. You rested your hands on his thigh, wanting to irk him. Baekhyun instantly smiled. “I take it I’m not bothering you?” he teased.

You sighed. “If this is because of your ex…” you trailed off and at the mention of his secretary, Baekhyun puckered his lips in distaste.

“It isn’t about her. The spark was gone a long time ago.” He observed you and seemed like he wanted to add more but he decided against it.

You nodded and squeezed his soft hand. 

“Okay,” you mouthed and turned to the bar while sliding your hand off his thigh, catching Jiyong smiling down at the cocktails he was mixing up.

Out of nowhere, you felt a hot breath on the shell of your ear with a hand on your waist, momentarily shocking you. “This isn’t a joke but you look fucking hot while working, you know.” Baekhyun’s soft lips tickled you and you wanted to shake off the feather-like feeling. 

You turned your head and saw his expectant eyes, a small smirk stretching his lips that he just sexily licked.

Did. He. Just. Say. That.

“I mean it,” he said louder over the music. He made a point when his eyes travelled lower, the way your shirt hugged your chest and then you skirt doing little to no job of hiding your beautiful curves that Baekhyun seemed to feast his eyes on. He didn't like that you had to dress like this for work, but right now he was confident he was allowed to stare.

You grew hot within a second. Hot and very, very bothered. You leaned in to him and his attention was back to your face. “Baekhyun,” you murmured, “if you were words on the page, you’d be a fine print.”

Within one second, Baekhyun was laughing loudly, quickly covering his mouth when he couldn’t contain his giggles. You leaned back when you heard the tray with the cocktails being put on the bar, ready to be served. “I mean it,” you winked and turned away, taking the tray and going back to work, feeling his eyes following your every move. You noticed the way the tray was shaking because- did you just use a silly pick-up like with him? Either way, you felt incredibly proud for making him laugh like that. As if the sun suddenly made its appearance in the underground club.

The remaining time you spent incredibly conscious of Baekhyun’s following gaze. You caught him chatting a lot with Jiyong which kind of made you happy because Jiyong, despite looking the opposite of Baekhyun, was one of your good friends that never left you hanging.

Soon, you went over to the side of the bar and Jiyong pushed a shot of vodka into your hand. “Go home early. Don’t let him wait any longer,” he told you, and watched you gulp down the burning liquid. “Both of you are making the pressure go up in my club and I don’t want any explosions here. He is basically eye-fucking you.””

You frowned in amusement and handed him back the empty glass, electric waves cursing down to your core at his last sentence. The liquid support was very much needed because Baekhyun was screaming sex even when he looked like the most polished gentleman in the house.

“Baek,” you walked quickly over to him when you changed back to your previous outfit. He turned on his seat, facing you with full interest. “Take me home then.”

The way you said the words; he got the secondary meaning. He licked his lips, looking for a moment at your own pair before taking your hand in his and bidding a quick farewell to the smirking Jiyong.

You were out within a minute. It was only past 2am but you never felt this free and ready to call it a night with him by your side. You expected a heavy make-out session right outside in the fresh air. But when he simply walked the both of you to the car and opened the door for you, you felt a tinge of disappointment.

It was during the quiet, tense car ride that you realized you must have read too much into the situation. God, you so badly wanted to take up on Jiyong’s idea; make Baekhyun completely forget he ever was with that secretary of his, but would he want to? 

“Thanks a lot for the ride,” you murmured when you arrived at your floor. He would go to his own apartment and you’d go to yours. Easy. Painless. Maybe once you’d close the doors, you’d feel like complete shit, but you still kept your kind stance up.

Baekhyun ran a hand through his hair. “Gladly,” he breathed when the both of you stopped walking from the elevator.

You looked up and noticed his droopy gaze on you. “Thank you for waiting for me,” you added to lengthen the time you had with him.

He shook his head, staring at you. “Don’t mention it,” he murmured, somehow distracted.

In that moment, you braced yourself. Now, or never. One last try. 

Stepping closer to him, you murmured. “I can make you forget about everything, you know.” You took his hand, playing with his long fingers. They would surely make you feel good.

“If I let you,” he said without hesitation, “I can’t guarantee I will behave,” he growled your name and you might have grown wet.

“You want to bet who will be naughtier?” you quirked an eyebrow in a challenge.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun let out and he grabbed your face, slamming his lips onto yours. You were taken aback for a mere moment before taking his face in your hands, feeling how smooth his skin on his cheeks was. Baekhyun was anything but soft though. He was biting and cheeky and daring when he forced his tongue into your mouth, making you moan. He made out with you dirtily in the corridor until he pressed you against the wall next to the door to your apartment, his knee pressing up your womanhood while he sucked on your neck as you melted in his embrace.

It took almost five minutes until you were finally inside the apartment.

It was another couple of minutes until he fell on the top of your bed with a huff, his eyes wide when you started to take off your clothes slowly. Your erratic heartbeat was making you giddy, or maybe it was the excitement from having his usually soft, kind eyes, now wildly set on your curves that he seemed to like so much.

“Now, baby boy,” you purred, stepping closer when you were just in your underwear. He followed your every move, and almost flinched when you touched his cheek. “If you dare to moan, you ain’t getting any tonight. How’s that?” you asked him, trying to grasp on every sober emotion that was still left in you, but it was difficult. You were so intoxicated by his still too-well put together look. You wanted to devour him.

Baekhyun slowly raised an eyebrow and it made you feel things. He hummed, observing you for a moment before wordlessly reaching for your hip, his hand landing exactly on the panty line. “As long as I get to touch.”

“You won’t get to do that either, if you as much as squeak. Do you hear me, Mr Byun?”

“Jesus- fuck, that’s to hot,” he groaned. “Let me add a little more fun to your game. If you moan,” he licked his lips and made a point to look at your chest, ”I will destroy you.”

Not realizing how harshly you were breathing by then, you nodded, the urge to get rid of your soaked panties big as you went to straddle him. Just as you were about to move though, you stopped. “Strip for me, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun looked surprised for a moment before smirking. “You sure, pretty?”

“Solid.”

Baekhyun took an eternity and you knew he was playing with you, teasing you. With every button he undid and with it showed more skin, you grew relentless. He stood close to you and when he was reaching the last button, he leaned in to you, kissing your neck sweetly, almost like a secret promise, that was followed with a sensual lick. You quickly grabbed the shirt and slid it off his wide shoulders. “Now the jeans. And the underwear has to go, too,” you said resolutely and he laughed gently.

“You are like a tigress. Don’t get surprised if I stand tall and proud for you, baby,” he winked at you and you wondered just for a moment about what he meant when he did just what you asked, his member springing free and looking very excited.

Daring to take a step back, you looked and swallowed. You made sure to let him know that you looked. His body was sculpted, wide chest and shoulders, prominent pectorals with even more prominent serratus muscles that made his chest even wider and very much ripped. His lean waist and stomach with fading six pack made you salivate until you took in his member. You sucked your lips in and pushed Baekhyun back on the bed, his smirk growing in anticipation.

“Won’t you undress for me?”

“You don’t deserve it just yet,” you replied absentmindedly and when he rested his back against the headboard, you dived. Without any warning, you grabbed the meaty thighs and lowered your head, tasting him. Baekhyun flinched and he let out a grunt as his hips almost automatically bucked up.

As you licked your way up to the tip, you muttered: “Don’t you dare moan. And keep these naughty hips in check for me.”

Excitement was cursing through your veins and you prayed your shakiness wouldn’t show too much. You licked up and down a few times before taking the tip in your mouth and slowly bobbed your head, feeling how he was now fully erected. Making sure you were letting out appreciative hums, you looked up and Baekhyun was gnawing on his bottom lip, his hand inching closer to your hair. “C’mon, grab me. I like it rough,” you told him and he didn’t waste a second with grabbing your hair and pulling on it. You hissed and dived deeper, feeling the prominent vein on the flat of your tongue, his tip gently scratching the back of your throat. It didn’t do you no harm though, and with every movement of your head, you went lower and lower until your eyes were teary. Coming back up, you swirled your tongue around the tip while your hand pumped him sensually, making sure he would be at the end of his wits.

Baekhyun was grunting but he didn’t dare to make more of an explicit sound, given his other hand was clasped over his mouth, his eyes now closed in pleasure. He looked divine and way too comfortable.

Deciding to make it a little harder for him, you grabbed his balls and massaged them gently, knowing it was the ultimate way to make him lose. But you were surprised when Baekhyun pushed you away out of nowhere, and he was now on top of you, his face flushed red, and his eyes so wild and dark he could eat you up. 

“How can this game be fair if I don’t get to play my part?” he muttered in a deep, throaty tone which made your womanhood twitch.

“Wha-“

You gasped when you felt his fingers at your lower lips as he quickly pushed the crotch of your panties aside, the index and fourth finger spreading them apart and letting the dominant middle finger press on the sensitive bud, your mouth opening in a silent moan. Baekhyun was looking carefully, your every move, your every breath detected by his attentive eyes and ears.

“Let’s see how long you’ll last, baby,” he murmured and his hands slid up your thigh, massaging them, the one that fingered you spreading your wetness over your skin. With every touch of his, he raised goosebumps and you found yourself on your elbows. He smirked at you and slowly spread your legs wider before he winked and leaned in. He kissed you on your lower lips, your head instantly falling backwards, and he sucked gently, making out with your womanhood.

You sighed louder and he quickly looked up, letting you know he heard you well. You giggled and pressed your lips together to prevent any unwanted sound leaving your mouth.

“Keep these wide open for me, alright?” He purred, using the voice you used with him before, and then his tongue came into the game; you just knew you would lose. You weren’t bad at giving blow-jobs (or so you thought) but Byun Baekhyun was eating you out like a madman. His tongue licked you up and down before he teased your entrance with it, collecting all your wetness. He hummed and groaned while his nose was pushed in the pubic bone as his tongue swirled and aroused you even more, licking every corner he could reach.

Your elbows became weak and you fell on your back, one of your hands grabbing the bed sheets in a strong grip while the other went to the back of Baekhyun’s perfectly brushed hair. He moaned again when he felt you pull on it, and you found yourself pushing his face more into you. His tongue complied and dove into your hole, poking inside as he lapped up all the juices around.

An earth shattering, deep moan left your throat, your weak mind forgetting about any silly game you came up with in order to make him focus just on you. Maybe you secretly wanted it to happen because you were dying to know how it felt like to let him have his way with you.

“That’s right, moan for me sweetheart,” came in his thundering, low growl and your airy moans filled the room. Your hips buckled up but he was fast to press them back into the mattress, tongue still relentless.

“I’m so close, don’t stop,” you panted with your eyes scrunched close, eager to get the release.

Baekhyun stopped. Pushing himself away, he looked at you in triumph while you snapped your eyes open, whining: “What are you doing?”

“Look who is an eager little tiger,” he teased, climbing over you. “As if I would let you come after teasing me like that before,” he murmured when his face was just in front of yours, his breath fanning yours lips. “I want to feel you.” He paused and leaned in, gently nipping at yours lips, the slightest taste of your own essence present on his mouth. “Let me feel you, baby girl.”

You were shocked at his sudden change from rough eating-out to a gentle kiss on your lips. You felt him poking you at your entrance and you found your hands wandering over his shoulders, feeling up those muscles, enjoying the way he was so wide and covering your entire body under him, making you feel safe. You slid them over his back and you had to spread your legs wider and shimmy under him, reaching his cute butt and squeezing, causing Baekhyun to groan gently against you. It sent another electric wave through your core and you just needed him to be in you.

“Undress me,” you mumbled, still fondling with his backside. You met Baekhyun’s eyes and he expressionlessly leaned back, letting his hips glide against your own while his hand looked for the bra clasp on your back.

You started to giggle and he stopped. “You can undo it right here,” you told him softly, your eyes looking between your breasts where the actual clasp was.

Baekhyun gave you a shy laugh, his cheeks gorgeously puffing up as his hands brushed against your breasts before unclasping the bra and pushing it to the side to reveal your mounds. He observed for a moment and then started trailing kisses around them, biting gently on the tender skin and effectively bringing out a hiss from you.

His free hand reached for your panties and you pushed your hips up to help him slide them off. You watched the underwear fly across the room and you laughed, sighing in content when he circled his tongue around your nipple.

Moving under him, you pressed yourself against his erect member, goosebumps raising on your skin at the feel of him. He wasn’t huge; he seemed the perfect size that would promise you something unforgettable.

“So, so fucking eager, you little devil,” he murmured against your breast but he gave himself away when he also pushed against you, his tip teasing you now at your center. He groaned gently and brought his face back to yours.

You closed your eyes in the meantime. Even the slightest movement from him was giving you a high.

“Look at me. Are you ready?” his voice was so low and raspy you shuddered.

You opened your eyes and you saw sex screaming all over him. “I’m so ready.”

He smirked and mouthed at your neck. “Let me ride you, then,” he muttered and pushed in.

Both of you moaned in unison. Since he stretched you before and denied you an orgasm, you were dripping and sensitive for him, giving him easy access to you.

“You feel like paradise,” you breathed an airy moan.

He was fast to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing up against yours as he gave you time to adjust to him. “Tell me what you like, sweetheart.”

“I like you,” you blurted under the spell of an intense ecstasy your body was going through. You froze right as you said it, scolding yourself for thinking the moment, but Baekhyun leaned in with an acknowledging hum and let his lips hover over yours as he started to rocked you gently, in and out, going up and down above you.

“I like you, too,” he admitted, the regular harsh puffs of his breath hitting your hungry lips. “You’re literally the sexiest woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

You were shocked and flying on cloud nine. His thrusts were making you feel like a goddess, the way he was looking at you made you feel loved. You chased his lips, kissing him sweetly while he fumbled with your hand and intertwined his hands with yours which made your tummy flutter with excitement. In and out was he rocking, your walls hugging him so well you felt like the missing puzzle piece to him.

You separated quickly for the lack of air and the pressure building up in your lower abdomen made you ever so breathless and moany. It was almost embarrassing how you weren’t about to last any longer; he was so intoxicating you felt like you would be recovering from the orgasm for a while.

“Are you close?” he asked as he gave you a sharper thrust, causing you to scream. He watched with eager eyes. “Oh, that’s right. Scream louder than that, baby girl. You can do better than that for me, hmm?” he gritted his teeth and thrusted into you again, your bed creaking in despair just like you were.

“Baekhyun!!” you met his hips half-way, the both of you rolling in perfect unison like the tumbling waves kissing the shore. Up and down, in and out he went. Just when you thought you couldn’t hold it in any longer, he pinched your clit with his other hand, harshly massaging you between your lips. “C’mon, don’t hold back.”

“Come with me,” you pleaded, trying to hold it in. You moaned, arching your back so that your breasts were pressed up against his chest and he groaned at the feel of your convulsing walls. He fastened the pace, wildly slamming into you now, not caring about the gentle sex he had in mind from the start.

“Let go,” he ordered sternly, and rid you further up the wrinkled bed sheets. “Hold on to me and let go,” he whispered into your open mouth, short on breath.

You did. Your high-pitch scream pierced through the sex-filled room, blocking all the inappropriate rufflings and moans out. You hugged him to you, shaking as you kept sighing.

Baekhyun let out a throaty grunt and you felt him twitch in you. He was fast to pull out, quickly helping himself out before releasing his seed all over your glowing skin. He breathed loudly, watching as his release hit your chest and stomach, looking absolutely stunning on you.

The way your chest was heaving up and down while feeling him dripping down made you feel ecstatic. Baekhyun met your eyes and gave you a tired smile before he fell on the bed next to you.

Both of you were panting loudly, glistening with sweat. You swore your legs were used up, unable to provide you service for a while. Baekhyun took your hand again and rolled on his side, resting himself on his elbow. You looked at him and took notice of the gentleness of his orbs, the way he looked so fucking hot but not a sprinkle of lust was in his eyes anymore; affection more like it.

Without a word, he leaned in and pecked your softly on your lips. “Let me clean you up,” he murmured and didn’t wait for your reply when he left your room.

You knew he would find your bathroom and soon enough he was back with a warm, wet towel. He cleaned you up with utmost gentleness; your breasts, your stomach and your womanhood, neither of it in a sexual way. Then he threw the towel on the floor and joined you in the bed.

“You didn’t have to,” you murmured sheepishly when you saw him making himself comfortable.

He smiled. “But I wanted to.” He covered your bodies in your comforter and you were fast to turn and bring yourself to him, eager to know how it felt like to rest your head on his chest.

He took you in with a small kiss on your temple and his arm rested on your hip. “Thank you. That was amazing.”

You sighed. “Did you mean it though?” you dared to ask, knowing full well you might end up ruining the moment. Baekhyun was a man of his words, and you never saw him as a type to back off when he already uttered something. But you saw how he was unsure the whole car ride back to your apartment.

“I did,” he sighed. “I really do like you, you know.”

“But how… so suddenly?” you asked, your hand drawing spirals on his pectoral. It was so firm.

He squeezed your hip. “I’ve liked you for a long time actually. You are literally the hottest girl in our group of friends and the fact that you’re so oblivious is just mind-blowing.”

Shocked, you pushed yourself up to look at him while his hand slid over your backside. You shivered when the comforter lifted, exposing your chest straight in front of his eyes, yet he didn’t look. “What? But - how? I just… you were with her and then…”

“I told you,” he said quietly as he caressed your butt cheek. “The spark was long gone. I just always tried to do my duties as a boyfriend until I was fully convinced she was fucking another one.”

You opened your mouth to respond but he beat you to it, amusement glistening in his eyes. “You are incredibly attractive and I might sound like a total creep but shit, your body is an eye magnet. I couldn’t stop thinking about touching you and feeling you.”

“Baekhyun,” you sighed, already affected by his words.

He hummed and his eyes dropped on your lips. “Just kiss me and let’s talk in the morning, hm?” he suggested as his eyes traveled to your mounds. “I feel like drowning in you until morning, pretty.”

And you were aroused right away. You leaned in, already hungry while you straddled him under the comforter. “Just so you know,” you whispered, closing your eyes when you felt his member at your heat. “She lost herself a gem.”

Baekhyun’s lips slowly stretched into a gracious smile while his hands navigated your hips above him, ready to let you ride him. “I guess we have to lose something in order to gain something much better in life.”

You smiled as well and kissed him.

-

You woke up sore. It was still a little early and Baekhyun was asleep next to you, his gentle snores making you laugh into your palm quietly. After five minutes of closely inspecting his face and realizing he had a whole constellation of moles, you decided to quickly jump in the shower so you could be fresh for him once he woke up.

You took his white shirt and slid into it, feeling tiny in the huge size that easily came to the middle of your thighs. It made you feel incredibly sexy.

As you tiptoed to the bathroom, you heard loud noises and shouts coming from the corridor outside your flat. You shuffled over, checking the ruckus through the small hole on your door. A little taken aback, you saw a beautiful, tall woman slamming her fist on Baekhyun's door. Her hair was in a perfect bun, not a hair sticking out.

“Baekhyun! Open up, I know you're home! Please, let's talk!”

You really didn't want to -- but you smiled in triumph. Oh darling, your ex is in my bed, sleeping tight after a mind-blowing night full of sex. Snickering to yourself, you quickly went to the bathroom.

Coming out after fifteen minutes, you roamed in the kitchen for a bit, preparing the water for the morning coffee you very much needed. While it was warming up, you went to check your bedroom to see if Baekhyun was anywhere near to getting out of the bed.

Stopping in the doorway, you saw an empty bed. Sheets messy, your underwear still on the floor, nothing seemed out of the place. Only his clothes were gone besides the white shirt that you obviously still had. Despite searching your small apartment, he wasn't anywhere. He wouldn't explain to you what that raspberry cake meant. He wouldn't explain to you what he promised last night - the way he grew to like you.

Baekhyun was gone.

He disappeared.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

A/N: lets thank our kind anon for wanting to mix Drown and Disappear to have it angsty! here you go, angst and never knowing what will happen 😜😆❤❤ Thank you so much for reading! I hope it was okay -_- 

[jimlingss]

Hi! Here’s a request for your Drabble game: namjoon + fantasy au + “Take this seriously, it’s a life or death situation!” Can be funny or angsty and sorry if this request is too specific haha

Anonymous said: Hello Kina! I love literally all of your works! Can I request this prompt? “That’s barbaric.” “That’s how you survive.” Any member!

Anonymous said: zombie au with any member ?

Zombies count as fantasy, right? lol

↳ The Unintended

2.5k || 50% Angst, 50% Fluff || Kim Namjoon || Zombie Apocalypse!AU

You’re lucky to have Namjoon by your side.

He’s always been the outdoorsy type. One of your first dates together was a camping trip in the wilderness. You remember being mortified then — having no place to do your makeup or properly shower or be able to make yourself look good for him. But now you look back on the memories with fondness. He didn’t care back then and he doesn’t care now.

Not to mention, Namjoon was also a boy scout for eight years. When he got too old for that, he took up rock climbing and spent hours in the gym to beef up his arms. It’s where you met him in the first place as a receptionist at the gym where you were working part-time while going to school.

He knows how to fish. How to set up traps. How to start a campfire. 

Namjoon’s saved your life countless times.

But then again, he’d argue you’ve saved him lots of times too. Years of schooling to become a nurse wasn’t wasted on you after all. And you’re the better cook than he is.

“Look what I caught!”

You look up from the fire where your dear husband is holding a usual fish. But in his other hand is a rabbit held by its ears, dead. It’s dripping of blood, limp in his grip and you feel a twinge of guilt.

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s how you survive,” he says. “I’ll prepare it to roast.”

You hum, taking the fish from him and the pair of you fall into routine. Namjoon works alongside you to prepare the food, poking the fire interchangeably and the both of you looking up once in a while through the thicket of the forest. 

After a moment, you pipe up, “Hey.”

Namjoon glances up at you and says “hey” with a tender, dimpled smile. 

The corner of your mouth quirks without being able to resist. “I’ve been thinking we should get on the move again. I saw a cottage down the road on our way here. Maybe we could check it out.”

“It’s probably already been ransacked.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be nice to sleep with a roof over our heads. I don’t want you to stay up and have to keep watch.”

“We take turns.”

You give Namjoon a look. “You never wake me up for my turn.”

He smiles sheepishly and you put your blunt knife down, quickly growing solemn. “I’m serious, Joon. It’s not good for your health to not sleep and I can’t— I can’t have you breaking down on me.”

Namjoon softens when he recognizes your distressed tone, when he sees your expression marred with worry. “Okay,” he murmurs gently. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning then.”

You nod and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. 

As the fish and rabbit are roasted over the blazing fire, smoke fills your nose and you cough before batting it away. You’re starving — in general, you’ve been feeling weak these days but you don’t dare say anything to Namjoon. God knows what he’s putting himself through to make you feel as comfortable as you can. 

You don’t want to worry him even more.

But you can’t hide your groan or sickly expression when the fish you’re supposed to eat comes up to your mouth.

Namjoon’s immediately alarmed and wide-eyed. “What’s wrong? Is it bad?”

You hand the stick that’s pierced with the fish over to him while cupping your mouth, trying not to vomit. “I’m sorry. It just smells really bad.”

“I made it the exact same way before.” He frowns and bites into the fish that’s still steaming. Namjoon chews in his cheek. “It tastes fine, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “I’m good. I’ll have the rabbit.”

But as you shift over, your husband’s eyes bore into your profile.

Namjoon stares at you. He gawks.

Then his mouth opens and he says— “Are you pregnant?”

Your eyes double and you look back at him. But then you scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You look away from him, picking at the meat, but you swallow hard in the meanwhile, mind racing. It’s not possible. It shouldn’t be possible. You haven’t had your period for three months — but you didn’t think twice about it. Not when there were more pressing matters. Not when you just assumed it stopped because you haven’t had your nutrients and you’ve been starving.

Namjoon knows the gears in your head are turning by your expression. He knows after years of being together.

“Y/N.”

“I already said it’s not possible.”

“There’s a city ten miles away from here. It’ll take half a day to walk there, but there should be a pharmacy or a hospital—”

“We are not going to the city,” you interrupt in exasperation. “It’s a death sentence, Namjoon, and we’re fine out here.”

“Not if you’re pregnant.”

“I’m not.” You deflate with an annoyed sigh. “I know my body best, alright? So just drop it.”

Namjoon stays silent. 

The rustling leaves of the forest and the distant sound of the river rushing fills the growing space between the two of you. And it sinks in how harsh and upset you got. You look up towards your husband with remorseful eyes. The last thing you want is to fight out here. Who knows when it could be your last moment together. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I was just worried.”

You nod. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Yet deep down, uncertainty swirls and you’re green with nausea again.

...

It took a year to happen.

At first, it was called a flu outbreak. Authorities kept it contained for a few weeks until it wasn’t anymore. Within the span of another week, it was declared a worldwide pandemic and entire countries went into quarantine. 

Life itself shut down. People complained and protested, and when thousands started to drop dead, there were protests for lack of government action. Then, it was millions dead.

Developing countries fell first. It didn’t take long after that for developed nations to follow.

Chaos. Panic. Looting. The dead walking the streets.

You still get nightmares about it. Namjoon does too — when he’s holding you and suddenly jolts awake, gasping. It’s then and there that you know he’s had a nightmare of one of the many close calls.

“I thought the cottage was closer than this.”

The both of you are trekking through the forest, lugging your bags and weapons, trying to remain as quiet and elusive as possible. 

Namjoon looks over his shoulder. “Do you need a break?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

“It should be up ahead.”

You hum, feeling the heat of the sun beating down on you. But it’s still better now with the canopy of the trees hiding you. It’s refreshing even. You admire the unfamiliar scenery. 

All at once, you stop. None of this should be unfamiliar.

Namjoon doesn’t hear the crunch of leaves behind him and turns around.

“This isn’t the direction of the cottage, is it?”

“Y/N.”

Your brows furrow deep enough to hurt. “I already said we’re not going to the city, Namjoon! Why don’t you ever listen to me?!”

Suddenly, there’s snarling in the distance. Namjoon, on alert, clasps his palm over your mouth and both sets of your eyes flicker over. There’s a shadow in the distance, a lurching figure amongst the trees. It snarls again, jerking a bit in your direction, but then no sounds follow. 

It passes.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“We have to go eventually, Y/N,” he whispers. “We need more supplies and if I can get my hands on a car, that would help us.”

“But—”

Your husband gingerly takes your hand, cradling it softly. “We’ll be careful.”

You gaze at him, searching his expression as if you’re painting his features to the forefront of your mind. But you already have. Yet, it’s not enough to feel comforted. “I can’t lose you, Namjoon. I can’t.”

Namjoon reaches out to hug you, embracing your body, frame overtaking yours.

You grasp onto his shoulders, trying to savour the moment and capture his warmth.

“You won’t. Not if I can help it.”

You nod into his chest.

The trek to the city is completed by afternoon and you find yourself standing in the remains of what was once civilization. There are decayed buildings, abandoned tanks, and much to Namjoon’s delight, many deserted cars. You see zombies bumbling around too. They’ve infested every corner street, every line of the road, and alley, nook and cranny. 

Their bodies are decaying, some with skulls lodged in half and their brain unraveling behind them. You have to hold back a gag when you can smell the rotten odour from here.

Luckily, you and Namjoon move quickly. You throw bricks and bottles at a distance to attract them and run the opposite way together.

First, you get to the small grocery store, opening your backpacks for the spare cans of beans and peas. It’s not much, but it’s a lot at this point. Namjoon even manages to score bandages.

“This is enough,” you murmur when you’re back on the open street again.

But before you can move on out, he stops. “Wait.”

You follow Namjoon’s line of sight. Across the street is a pharmacy and a horde of infected.

You pull your husband back before he can book it and the both of you hide behind discarded crates on the road. “Wait, why?”

“You know why. There were none in the grocery store. I checked, but if there’s any place that has them, it’s there.”

If looks could kill, Namjoon would be six feet under and then crawling out of his grave as a zombie. Maybe as the first one who wasn’t bitten or infected by the virus. “You’re being an idiot.” 

Namjoon grins. “Well, I was thinking of just shouting a battle cry and running straight in there.”

“Take this seriously,” you hiss and punch his arm. It does little to even push him back, much less hurt him. It doesn’t help that his muscles are rock solid. If only his brain was as developed — but if you were being honest, Namjoon was quite intelligent too. Except for right now. “It’s a life or death situation.”

Namjoon smiles, practically from ear to ear. 

The dimples on each side of his cheek crease and before you can react or say much else, he leans in and captures your lips with his. It’s a soft and sweet kiss. Then your husband cradles your face in his hand and tilts your head to deepen the kiss. You’re rendered to complete silence, melting into his touch as he takes your breath away. 

When he pulls from you, your lashes flutter.

You’re completely dazed. 

Until he grabs a rock near your foot and chucks it. It smashes into the window of a nearby boutique, glass shattering and all the zombies turn their heads. They snarl at a high pitch, screeching out as flounder towards the noise. Namjoon darts behind them, right out of your grasps.

You’d shout his name if it didn’t mean your own death sentence.

The wait is agonizing. You feel like you’re going to get a heart attack as you watch the door, unsure if he’ll come out. Even if he does, you don’t know if he’ll still be human and the Namjoon that you love. The one that you decided to marry, that you saw on the other end of the aisle and who cried like a dork when he saw you in the dress. 

Those years feel like another world. But they’re still memories you cherish.

The five minutes feels like an hour. You’re cursing, praying, regretting.

But then the buff idiot, your idiot, comes out and runs back to you with a massive grin. Uninjured. With bottles of penicillin, some kind of allergy medicine, and a pregnancy test you grimace at.

You seek refuge at an apartment building on the edge of the city.

It’s an expensive one that was fenced in and boarded up — one of the last to fall to the ruins.

You choose a room on the second floor that’s easy to get into and easy to escape if need be. Unfortunately a zombie lurches out from one of the rooms much to your horror, but Namjoon kills it. He takes his hatchet right into its skull and checks the other rooms before dragging the corpse out when you look nauseous again.

When it’s all over, Namjoon dusts his hands off like it was just some spring cleaning.

“What happens if I really am pregnant?”

You hold the test, motionless, until your head lifts to meet Namjoon’s softened eyes. There’s an overwhelming urge not to take it, to throw the box out the window and keep convincing yourself that it would be impossible to be carrying. But Namjoon risked his life for this.

And you know he won’t let it go. Not until an answer is certain.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he murmurs gently.

“I can’t give birth on my own, Namjoon.”

“I know.”

“If the baby even makes it that far,” you whisper and he grimaces. But what worries you far more, what’s put you in so much denial, and made you sick with terror is the fact that you know— “I’ll slow you down even more, Namjoon.”

His brows furrow, lips becoming lopsided. “You don’t slow me down.”

“How many times have you almost died trying to save me?! I-I can’t keep up.”

At once, Namjoon engulfs you with his arms. He holds you close, body flush against yours and you press your face into his broad shoulder, smothering your worries for a moment with his soothing comfort.

“I love you,” he sighs against your ear. “No matter what happens, I love you. There wouldn’t be a reason for me to keep living if you weren’t here, Y/N. I’m only trying this hard because you are. You’re my purpose now. You and this baby, if it’s real.”

Your fingers clutch onto his jacket, hanging onto your husband as your anchor. “Shut up,” you mumble against his clothes. “You know I hate it when you talk like this. Like you’re saying goodbye.”

Namjoon smiles faintly, remembering how you made him promise to never say goodbye. “Sorry.”

He lets you go and you turn into the bathroom.

The minutes that follow are excruciating. Maybe you’re just impatient, but you’ve grown to hate waiting. But still, you wait by yourself while kneeling on the cold, tiled floors, staring at the stick you peed on.

It’s faint. And you pray your eyes are wrong. But as the minutes go by, it becomes stronger and stronger in colour.

You leave and Namjoon looks at you expectedly. 

“Well?”

You thrust the stick towards him. Two lines.

[seostudios]

mark’s dad.

pairing: johnny x fem!readr

genre: fluff + smut (like little angst) info: dilf!johnny, son!mark, best-friend!mark, aged-up!johnny warnings: age gap, unprotected sex, masturbation (fem) wc: 2.1k

note: hi i wrote this on my phone at like 1-3 in the morning... sorry if it’s bad but i wanted to put out something! i hope you guys enjoy it though cause dilf!johnny is so sexy

i think my son ditched you for haechan today, dear.” mr.suh informed you as you stood respectively in front of him, wearing an oversized sweater and basketball shorts. “aw man, i drove all this way for a movie with mark, and he ditched me for his other best friend...” you quietly sneer, the obvious jealously making an appearance. johnny chuckled, hands resting on his hips. he felt bad you came all this way for a simple movie night. “how about this?” your eyes look up, to the terrifyingly good looking man. “i will treat you to a movie and popcorn!” he suggested, knowing very damn well he’s going out of his way to possibly spend time with his son’s best friend, who he has known since they were sewed to the hip in sophomore year, now in university. “i-i don’t think that’s be appropriate,” “why? because i’d like to spend time and get to know the friend and possible love interest of my son? i don’t see any harm in that. i’ll get my coat.” he quickly responded, saving himself.

you knew he said you’d watch a movie together but you didn’t expect to get yourself two tickets to go watch a movie at an actual theatre. “that was amazing mr.suh-“ johnny looks down at your tiny figure holding the popcorn, “-i mean johnny!” if you’re being honest now, it was really nice getting to know johnny, besides the age difference and the possible complications with your amazing friendship with his son, you liked him. making your way over to his car, you listen on as he rambles about how he hasn’t this much of an outing since mark was in high school. “now he’s clinging onto me like we’re dudes, like i’m his dad not his bro.” he laughed, starting the car. “that’s so sweet though!! my mom never gave an effort to trying to be my friend even when i tried,” although you kind of party pooped the mood, you can literally reverse uno it right there. “but whatever!! she still brings me shopping which is good enough,”

nearing midnight and you know god damn well your mom would’ve killed you if she knew you took a taxi home alone in the middle of the night. johnny picked up on this, and even if he saw you in a new light today, a light which could possibly ruin his relationship with his son and a possible one with you, he couldn’t have let you home alone. “you know what? marks sleeping over at haechan’s anyway. i’ll call your mom and tell her you should stay over.” nodding, you let yourself in and up into his (messy) bedroom.

“hope you enjoy peanut butter and jelly for dinner, i kind of forgot to buy groceries...” johnny said handing you a plate of mini sandwiches. you mutter a quick thanks before digging in. tonight you saw johnny not as mr.suh but as johnny, the hot ass mother fucking dilf of the neighbourhood. you thought you were just a regular teenager to him, but you thought wrong. feeling his gaze on your exposed neck, lips. how his breathing would quicken whenever you leaned in to grab another sandwich. “wanna watch america’s got talent?” you asked pointing towards the couch. he shrugs agreeing, “why not?”

you had insisted on cleaning the dishes, i mean it was the least you could do. “so what’s the point of this whole show? to humiliate people or actually scout out people?!” johnny questioned staring at the screen, not noticing how you went from being on opposite ends of the couch to being almost inches away. should you initiate something? no, that would be overstepping into something erasable.

“this is so wrong,” you tell yourself before abruptly standing up. johnny turns his attention to you, trying to foreshadow your next moves. however, he didn’t expect for you to turn back around and straddle on his lap, “whoa..” he said, gripping onto your hips. “i want you.” his mind goes blur momentarily, “i-i cant, your my son’s best friend...” god, you looked so hot with your shorts bunched up as far as they could as you slowly grinder down onto his (huge) clothed cock. “fu..fuck,” he moans aloud, pushing all thoughts aside except for the one that kept telling him to ruin you tonight. the night was going better than planned, since you were in straddled on a topless johnny with only your bra and shorts on... probably a good twenty five minutes into kiss play, but mark chose the best time to unintentionally cockblock you and his dad. “y/n!!”mark shouted through the phone loud enough for johnny to hear (and the speaker wasn’t even on!) “yes markie?” you cooed, using one hand to speak on the phone and the other to signal johnny to keep it quiet. your hands trailed overtop your breasts, cupping them through your bra and pinching your hardened nipples, soon bringing your cold fingers down to the waistband of your shorts. “it’s fine. we can always watch a movie next weekend, i literally see you everyday! go hang out with hyuck,” you encouraged. past the waistband and under the hello kitty panties your hand comes in contact with your sensitive (dripping) folds. “a-ah, m..mark i gotta go...” “are you getting laid or something? i’m out.” he quickly ends the phone and you made sure to turn on ‘do not disturb’ incase he calls again.

“go on, i’ll watch.” johnny said seductively observing you as you toyed with your sensitive clot. “i’m close johnny!” you quietly moan into his ear, rubbing faster. “cum on your fingers, now.” he ordered, feeling you twitch underneath him, grinding as you had an orgasm. “dirty girl...” he groans watching you pull your fingers up to suck dry. now, you were a filthy girl, tasting yourself without being told to, cumming in your panties which you knew damn might have to force you to go commando tonight in marks bed. it was like a slap in the face when johnny lifted you up to stand, “it’s late. i- we should head to bed... i can give you some new shorts... since you know,” he quickly stammered before swiping his shirt off the floor, heading upstairs.

it was almost nine in the morning when you woke up, you knew johnny woke up around seven to eight so the sizzling smell of bacon wasn’t just some evil mind games. after last night, you felt, intense shame and guilt. did you seriously just betray your best friend for a lousy orgasm you could’ve done alone in the bathroom. “your up! i made breakfast, go ahead and dig in, i’m just gonna be cleaning up my bedroom.” he sounded as if you didn’t cum all over his lap not even 12 hours ago, but i guess he shouldn’t dwell in the past especially this time.

“mr.suh! my mom’s here! thank you... goodbye!” you shout from the front door. “anytime! bye!” he replies before you jolt out the door.

it’s been a couple days and johnny hasn’t left your mind. you always think about what stopped him, was it the age? your friendship with mark? that fucking phone call? johnny and you that night was like no other, you saw him for johnny, not mr.suh and it made your panties soak at every thought. how his ink black hair is always combed and in the most attractive middle part, how his broad should could feel when you hold yourself while being railed by his enormous cock. it was big, would it even fit? you’ve been with men before but the bulge you felt poking you in then thigh was something else compared to the other men.

you roamed his mind freely too. spending his day drinking hours, pondering over you, will you just slap him in the face and let him know you want him and you don’t care? he hopes. but it’s wrong. “dad! y/n’s coming over to study today,” mark shouted running down the stairs to his father. “so don’t snatch her up and take her away for a movie date, we got an exam this monday.” he said nonchalantly, the mention of their little outing slipping oh too casually. “w-what?” he asked surprised. “yeah yeah, i know about your little date and hook up” “- we didn’t hook up.” johnny interrupted, “well whatever you were doing for her to end my phone call like that,” he goes to the fridge to grab some milk, “so...” johnny said, eager on his son’s say on this. “so..? do you want me to be mad, dad?” i was lying if i said johnny was chill now... “no!!!!” he shouted, which earns a couple laughs from mark. “hey, dad,” mark sits down infront of his father. “it’s okay, y/n probably likes you back so you can do whatever you want with her, except hurt her cause i’ll kill you.” he deadpans before letting him off with a laugh. “so she can be your new mom for all you care?” he asked, playfully of course, waiting for the “hell no” and “what the fuck dad?!” to come but... “i mean she bags and tells me what to do, she helps me with school, laundry and chicks so... i don’t see why not,”

ding ding ding ding ding ding now what? hopping off the bean bag you were binge watching the office on, you head over to the door, not caring what you look like, just shut up to whoever had the audacity to spam a doorbell. “hello?!” you look up, “hey y/n,” johnny said with a small daisy in his hand.

“let me be your boyfriend,”

“what about mark?” you asked, staring at your feet wiggle in anticipation. hoping he’d tell you he doesn’t care and we could do whatever we wanted to. “funny you asked, he said for all he cares you could be his step mom.” you threw your head back laughing “he what?! no he didn’t....” the laughter dies down soon enough to get back to seriously listening in on what he has to say but did mark really not care? “your girlfriend huh?” you asked, raising a brow. he nodded. johnny proceeds to take the daisy and place it behind your ear, “you look like shit, but that is sexy as fuck.” he said, caressing your cheek before leaning in to place a peck on your lips.

“i don’t get why you drove half an hour here to say that, when i was already coming over to study.” you tell your boyfriend, johnny, as your backs his mattress. it was seriously an eventful day, wasn’t it? “i thought i should be romantic,” he shrugged turning to his side to wrap his large arms around your waist pulling you in closer. “i like this...” he mumbled into your hair, slowly drifting off to sleep.

“are you falling asleep?! we need to leave in ten minutes!!” you shouted, attempting to free yourself from his hold but he was knocked out and not letting go any time soon. “i hate you.” “i think it’s the quiet opposite y/n dear,” he replied, burying himself in the blanket, bringing you with him. “now let’s take a quick nap, mark can wait,” you sigh in defeat, “okay fine... twenty minutes!”

five months later, and you couldn’t believe having a relationship with your best friends dad was oddly working out perfectly. “johnny! fuck! baby your so good!” you whine as he penetrates into you against the wall. your legs wrapped around his waist as his cock rubs around your g-spot stimulating you into your third orgasm of that night. mark had recently gone travelling with jeno for fun so that meant you and johnny could’ve have your own fun in the empty house. “you can cum for me one more time can’t you?” he begged, placing you on the kitchen counter, kissing down your stomach. “answer me...” he sucks harhly on your clit. “yes! i can!!” you whined, squirming feeling johnny licking up your juicie; which sure as hell was mixed with his own cum, lapping his tongue around until you were shaking under his mouth and curling your toes to his mouth’s magic. “i’m- i’m cumming!!” you scream, releasing your juices onto the man’s face. “my favourite meal of the day.” he playfully joked before pinching your nipple. “tired?” he asked, as if he hadn’t been using you as a cum dump for hours. “mhm,” you reply opening your arms for him to carry you up, because “no way in hell am i walking up the stairs today after being railed by a monster cock.” you said snorting with a laugh. nonetheless, johnny swoops you up and gracefully carried you up and into his bed, “we can clean up tomorrow, let’s sleep now.” he said, feeling you wrap around him like a koala. “mmm goodnight... i love you,” you said in the crock of his neck, right below his ear before drifting off, “love you too,”

[ivorysoapshavings]

So…… my hyperfixation on HxH is back and stronger than ever so I wrote this

TW: Hanahaki mentions of blood and corpses alcohol and minor cursing

Kurapika finally took the time to open his phone after a few months, he opened it to find eight voicemails and over twenty missed calls. He clicked on the voicemails and played the first one that was sent almost two months after Gon, Killua, Leorio, and him first split up.

~The other night dear as I lay sleeping I dreamed I held you in my arms~

“Hey, Kurapika it’s Leorio, I just wanted to check up on you; you’ve seemed pretty busy lately hope you’re not overworking yourself. Anyway things aren’t too interesting here at medical school but I do have a few big tests I need to study for,” there was a pause for a long sigh, “guess I should get to doing that huh? Well, call me back when you get the chance. It's been a while,” there was a small pause before the line went dead.

~But when I awoke dear I was mistaken so I hung my head and cried~

“Hey, Kurapika, it's Leorio, just wanted to check up with you and see how you’re doing. Oh! something hilarious happened I think would have amused you. So me Gon and Killua were eating lunch together and Gon tried to do his impression of you and Killua was taking a drink at the same time, and Killua laughed so hard water came out of his nose,” There was a small chuckle at the other end of the phone, “you know they miss you too,” silence for a couple of seconds, “welp, you know my number call me back when you get the chance,”

~You are my sunshine my only sunshine you make me happy when skies are grey~

“Hey, kurapika, it’s me again. Listen I know you’re probably just busy with your job and all but I can’t help but be a little worried. You’re not injured are you? You don’t even have to call, just send a message of something, anything,” there was a sharp inhale and a light sigh, “Well bye then,”

~You’ll never know dear how much I love you please don't take my sunshine away~

“Hey Kurapika it's Gon! I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I can tell Leorio is kinda worried about you. We’re also been doing a lot of things. Nothing dangerous of course!” Gon paused to nervously chuckle, “It's been fun though I wish you could be here with us. That would make it even more fun! Leorio said he told you about Killua spewing water out of his nose that was really funny but what I bet he didn’t tell you was that he choked on his food and almost fell out of his chair too,” There was a pause and some chittering in the background, “Welp, we gotta go hopefully you’ll call us soon but call Leorio first he really wants to hear from you,” there were a few crashing noises and someone yelled Leorios name then the line went dead.

~I’ll always love you and make you happy if you will only say the same~

“ Kurapika, it’s Killua you better call us back soon or I’m gonna -,” Killua was cut off by someone. Then came a lot of muffled yelling and a loud crash. “Got it ,” Gon yelled triumphantly, clearly having wrestled the phone from Killua’s hands “Sorry about that Kurapika. Killua just misses you too he just has an awful way of expressing it” Another crash and the line going dead.

~But if you leave me and love another you’ll regret it all some day~

“Hey Pika, It’s gotten boring here again. Gon and Killua ran off to god knows where, no heads up just left. I just really hope they stay safe, they’re always getting into the most trouble,” Leorio let out a small chuckle, something about his voice sounded different more weak “I really worry for them sometimes they’re just so young yet they’ve been through so much,” he paused letting out a sigh, “Ugh, I sound like a dad. Anyway hope you’re staying safe kicking ass out there. I really hope you’re at least listening to these and not just deleting them. But stay safe don’t overwork yourself, miss you,”

~You are my sunshine my only sunshine you make me happy when skies are grey~

Kurapika noticed something strange as he was going to click on the next voicemail. They were usually sent two to three weeks apart from each other but this one was sent almost a month and a half after the last one. He brushed it off thinking Leorio was just busy, until he opened it.

~You’ll never know dear how much I love you please don't take my sunshine away~

“Hey Kurapika it’s Gon again, we just met up with Leorio again and he’s --,”

“Gon! He didn’t want us to tell,” Killua yelled interrupting him

“I know but it’s gotten worse and-,”

“We can ask him again when he wakes up! But its not out place to tell,”

“I know!” Gon yelled exasperated, “but what if we tell him and it’s to late,”

“That won't happen, so give me this an-,” the voicemail cut off there

~You told me once dear you really loved me and no one else could come between~

Kurapika sat in confusion at the voicemail ‘What did they mean it was getting worse? Was there something wrong with leorio? Why didn’t he want to tell me? Is it something bad? Deadly?’  Kurapika wondered to himself as he stood up and started to pace the room with worry. He needed answers so he clicked on the next voicemail which he noticed was also almost a month apart from the last one. About a week ago.

~But not you’ve left me and love another you’ll regret it all some day you have shattered all of my dreams~

“Here, you have to tell him,” It was Killua’s voice, “Or I'm gonna tell,”

“I can’t,” It was Leorio this time but his voice sounded even more different from his last message. It was less preppy and loud and more horse and mellow, “I don’t want him to worry about me. He’s probably doing something important and it’s not like hes gonna listen to this anyway,” Killua let out an angry huff

“Fine than, Kurapika hey it’s killua you better get your ass over here because-,”

“Wait! Killua I’ll tell him just give me the phone,” there were a few shuffling noises and then Leorio started speaking again, “Hey Pika you probably won't get this but I’ve got Hanahaki and it’s you I love you,”

~you are my sunshine my only sunshine you make me happy when skies are gray~

Kurapika stopped pacing and dropped his phone in shock ‘Hanahaki’ ‘it’s you’ ‘I love you’ he was trying to make sense of it all Leorio loved him Leorio had Hanahaki because of him.

“How? How! God damn it!” he yelled to no one. He grabbed his phone off the floor and ran outside. Kurapika had run a couple of blocks before it hit him, he had no idea where to go. He knew they were in the same city but where? So he stopped and dialed Killuas number. It seemed like days as he waited for someone anyone to pick up the phone he gasped out of relief when someone did answer

“Kurapika yo-,” Gon had answered the phone he sounded like he was crying

“Just tell me where you are,” and after Gon had finished telling him the address Kurapika immediately hung up and started running again.

~you‘ll never know dear how much I love you please don't take my sunshine away~

“YOU’RE TOO LATE. YOU’RE TO LATE KURAPIKA. HE’S DEAD HE JUST FUCKING DIED,” Gon shouted furious as kurapika bolted through the door of their hotel room, when he saw what was infront of him he froze in shock from the sunflower petals scattered along the floor, Leorio dead in Killua’s arms, Gon swearing at him, “THIS. ALL. COULD. HAVE. BEEN. AVOIDED. IF YOU PICKED UP. THE FUCKING PHONE. FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE,” Gon kept shouting, shoving Kurapika in between each phrase. Kurapika just let it happen because he knew it was his fault Gon was right.

“Gon stop,” Killua said monotone, now behind Gon holding him back from shoving Kurapika even more. Gon didn’t even fight him; he just turned around and crumpled into Killua’s arms. “Kurapika say something please,” Killua begged. After Kurapika stayed silent and didn’t answer, Killua got up from under Gon and stood in front of Kurapika and slapped him across the face. This snapped something inside Kurapika and he fell down to his knees and started sobbing

“I killed him… I killed him.. I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him,” Kurapika chanted, getting louder each time he uttered the phrase. He turned and looked at Leorio on the floor lifeless, blood stains all up his front, covered in petals, “I killed him,”

~In all my dreams dear you seem to leave me when I awake my poor heart pains~

The funeral came and It was Kurapika’s turn to come up and say his final farewell to Leorio. As he stepped up to the casket he saw Leorio pale and lifeless, no amount of makeup being able to make him look alive again. He was also wearing that stupid suit he always wore but now that he was seeing it for what was probably the last time it wasn’t really stupid. His casket was also scattered with sunflower petals which stared at Kurapika mocking him for not being there when his friends needed him most, for being so selfish and such a workaholic. He stepped down from his place in front of the casket and left the building not bothering to stay for the rest of the service. He didn’t think he could face Leorio’s family or Gon and Killua after being the reason that Leorio died. So he made his way back to the hotel room.

~So when you come back and make me happy I’ll forgive you dear I’ll take all the blame~

It had been a few hours since Kurapika left the funeral which meant it had probably ended by now. All he had done was sit there and think and ask questions that could now never be answered. After a few more minutes passed the door to the Hotel room opened, and Gon and Killua walked in.

“Oh you’re here,” Killua said, slightly annoyed.

“Kill stop now is not the time to be fighting,” Gon practically whispered, his voice being hoarse from crying.

“No! You had your chance to yell at him earlier, now it's my turn,” Killua retorted, slightly raising his voice.

“Listen Killua, I know it’s my fault. I’ll just leave,” Kurapika mumbled, getting up from his position on the floor.

“No! Do you know how much pain he was in? How much blood and flower petals he coughed up? We were the ones to keep him company and comfortable.

We were the ones who had to watch him slowly die as we desperately tried to contact you. We had to make him tell you about the disease because he didn’t want to worry you in case you were doing something important. And you didn’t even show up until weeks after we told you about it. And after all that you don’t even stay for his funeral ,” Killua was flushed and slightly out of breath after yelling and Kurapika stood in front of him, eyes now a beautiful yet frightening scarlet color.

“You know what? No. I don’t know how much pain he was in nor how much blood and petals he coughed up. And I know I should have been there when he needed me, how none of this would have happened if I had picked up the stupid fucking phone sooner, and I couldn’t stand being at the funeral because how could I ever face his family knowing I’m the reason he died,”

“Guys can we please stop this,” Gon begged from the sidelines, desperately tugging on Killua's hand. Killua just shook him off and stepped closer to Kurapika.

“Yeah because you’re a fucking coward , and it’s not like being here would’ve changed anything you probably didn’t even love him back,” this is what made Kurapika snap.

“How do you know what I feel, Killua Zoldyck! How? How would you ever know how I feel when you’re just an emotionless assassin,” Killua gave a sharp inhale

“Yeah, well because of your cowardice everyone you loved is dead, Leorio, your clan -,” before Killua could finish Gon stomped his foot on the ground cracking the ground underneath them.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! You guys are arguing like a bunch of babies and there's no point in insulting each other, it's not gonna bring Leorio back. So just.. Stop it!” Killua just huffed angrily and toed at the ground not looking at either of the two boys in the room. Kurapika just brushed past the two boys towards the door knocking into Killua on his way.

~You are my sunshine my only sunshine you make me happy when skies are grey~

After Kurapika left the hotel room he wanted to find a way to distract him to relieve him of his hurt and stress and fast. So he found the nearest bar.

“Hey kid, aren't you a little young to be in here,” The man behind the bar asked Kurapika. In response all he did was place his hunter license on the bar and said

“something strong,” The bartender grunted in response and went to mix a few things together before pouring it in a cup and sliding it to Kurapika.

“You look like shit,” The bartender told Kurapika after what was probably his fifth drink.

“Yeah? Well, I just killed someone I loved,” Kurapika managed to slur out. The bartender just raised his eyebrows in question, “Hanahaki disease. You know the one where you spit up flowers? All because I couldn’t be bothered to pick up the fucking phone.” And without another he stood up, shoved his hunters license in his pocket, slammed the rest of his drink down and walked out of the bar. Now that he had nowhere to go, no one to return to, he was bound to endlessly wander till he couldn’t wander any longer.

~you’ll never know dear how much I love you please don’t take my sunshine away~

[cadaceus]

C2E141

One last time, y’all. This campaign and these characters have meant so much to me, and this seven hour finale was definitely an emotional rollercoaster. (Yes, I shed actual tears at one point, which rarely happens to me with media. But this is a special occasion.) These liveblogs are nearly as long as the episode itself, so grab a snack! With that being said, here are my very last liveblogs for Campaign 2 of Critical Role. As always, major spoilers below, so beware. 

- Veth taking a level in Wizard, god I am really gonna cry ten minutes into this thing...  😭

- We got our first “stay with us” to Essek, I am emo...

- I was fully not expecting to say goodbye to Frumpkin, but now I’m on the verge of tears... farewell dear fey friend (Marisha saying “that wasn’t supposed to be what broke me” me too me too)

- “You’re a good person.” “I could be.” “You are.”

- “I think you’re a good person” I never thought that I’d hear Beau say that about Essek and this genuinely might be what breaks me... she thinks he’s a good person.... redemption is possible.... maybe love is real....

- If I end up crying over wizards, look away

- Jester lifting up Fjord’s arm to snuggle beneath it made me say “awww” out loud  🥺

- VETH GOING FOR A DIP IN THE POND, I AM GENUINELY SO PROUD OF HER

- “Aahhh!! It’s me! Your wife!” I am going to miss Jester’s sending so much

- Okay that accent bit was so funny, I am going to miss all of them so much

- REAL MOLLY IS BACK REAL MOLLY IS BACK REAL MOLLY IS BACK

- Oh but he doesn’t remember them... and Yasha is trying so hard to help him remember, it’s so so sweet 

- Something about the way he said “Tealeaf’s nice” made me tear up... I was neutral on Mollymauk early campaign because I went into things knowing that he passed away, but this whole conversation with the Mighty Nein is So Much. Also “Kingsley Tealeaf” 

- “Everyone should have a brother” as someone with three of them, I vouch for this  🥺

- a) I love Marion Lavorre (and Jester ofc!) so very much and b) I can’t believe that Jester’s parent trap actually worked??

- “I do not think Exandria is ready for how you’re going to change it” got to me... and it’s also so true. jester has already changed the world just by being kind.

- Good bye Marion... I love and will miss you so much! (And many thanks to Laura and Matt for creating an agoraphic single mother who raised a wonderful child <3)

- Beau and Jester teasing Marion for having a complicated relationship with Babenon reminds me of Caleb saying he has a complicated relationship with Essek...

- LEAVE CALEB ALON E FUOIKJLKGKNL 

- THIS IS ....... SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE.

- Caleb’s biggest trauma(s) coming back to haunt him, I am genuinely going to cry I’m not ready for this I’m not okay

- Beau saying to Jester “Thanks, cutie” I love themmmmm

- INITIATIVE AAGJASKHDKJ AAAAAHHHH

- Essek’s Gravity Sinkhole did nothing? uhhhhh Mr Stark...

- EADWULF???? HELLO?????

- Essek using his entire turn to save Caleb last battle 🤝 Caleb using his entire turn to save Essek this battle

- ASTRID???? I TRUSTED YOU??? WE ALL TRUSTED YOU????

- Another Counterspell chain sdfdghjkdl wizards !!!

- “It’s just business” is literally the Neutral Evil line, it always gives me chills when any character says it

- This hurts more after Liam confirming on Twitter that Astrid/Caleb/Eadwulf were all three a romantic item... please stop hurting Caleb, you loved him  😭

- THE FJORD VS EADWULF SWORD FIGHT IS SO CINEMATIC I LOVE IT HERE ACTUALLY

- Essek taking every opportunity to pull Caleb to safety makes me so emotional...  😭

- “You’re not the first student I’ve had to put down” I am burning with my anger for you, old man 

- THE DISPEL WORKED LET’S GO CALEB.....

- Remember when Matt said that Essek doesn’t openly show concern/emotion? And now he’s saying “I’m scared” in front of his closest friends and his worst enemies.... growth my love.....

- BEAU AND VETH LETS GO CHAOS CREW LETS MF GO BABEYYYY!!!

- FJORD COUNTERSPELLING THE DIMENSION DOOR..... and Matt having him describe it.... is this taking the place of a “HDYWTDT” *eyes emoji*

- CALEB GOING DOWN NO, THANK GOD FOR THAT DEATH WARD

- Veth’s illusion of Caleb’s parents flanking Caleb in the flames.... that got me too, Liam

- “Stay down.” yeah, okay, that was sexy

- ASTRID BEING THE ONE TO ACTIVATE THE COLLAR IS LITERALLY POETIC JUSTICE... Trent being beaten by the student who stuck with him longest I love this so much, she deserved that moment honestly

- Break Time, AKA Emma Makes Her Weekly Mug Brownie Interlude

- Sometimes I feel like “death is too good for you” is a copout, but in this case it fits so well, I want this mf’s reputation destroyed and the entire operation exposed and overthrown let’s goooo

- “I loved you both so much”.... Astrid and Eadwulf walking away.... oh, Blumendrei... I know this is not the end of your story. What’s past is prologue, loves

- The Empire Siblings are gonna burn down the whole system because it’s the system that enables individual corruption... I am so fulfilled by this, god i love them

- “I love you too” OH MY GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, FJORESTER ARE THE CUTEST FOR REAL

- Jester and Essek’s friendship still means so much to me btw just in case anyone wanted a check-in

- Veth giving the flask to Kingsley!! Good for her, good for her!

- OH Blumenduo are back already! I truly thought that was going to be their last appearance of the Campaign, why is this taking me more by surprise than Trent’s appearance

- “[Caleb] notes how similar Eadwulf and Fjord are” this is Widofjord adjacent... this episode we have gotten Widomauk-adjacent, Widojest-adjacent, and Widofjord-adjacent (and Blumentrio ofc), now come through Shadowgast and we can get a full Bingo on the “Bisexual Maelstrom” card

- Speaking of relationships, I am lowkey into the Fjord/Jester/Kingsley dynamic LOL no one look at me I’m in hiding

- I’M NOT READY TO SAY GOODBYE TO VETH AND CAD 😭 It makes sense and the fact that they have their families back is beautiful but also consider this: I’m sad and I will miss them 

- The goodbyes to Caduceus..... I am going to cry aren’t I?

- “If he’s anything like his mom, you won’t see him until it’s too late” Okay that made me giggle, I love Veth and I love Luc and I love their little family

- IS ESSEK LEAVING TOO? THAT’S GONNA BE WHAT BREAKS ME ISN’T IT

- If Essek leaves and we never see him again, getting a triple whammy of goodbyes I will be so incredibly sad, I cannot do this  😭

- If anyone is interested, no I am not doing well

- I was lowkey ready to get an Essek’s feelings for Caleb confirmation tonight, I guess it makes sense that we didn’t but I hope that this is not the last time we see Essek... I want to write another emo post about him and about how much he means to me but I will refrain

- CALEB BEING A TEACHER IS THE ENDGAME I WANT FOR HIM PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

- Wow, I really was not ready to see Caduceus and Essek go for some reason... I really wanted this Campaign to end on the image of the Mighty Nein together as all nine of them... I’m feeling so numb right now having to say goodbye  😭

- Oh, we’re in the epilogue now!

- When Fjord said “[the sea] is my favorite place to be” I genuinely felt that on a spiritual level... the ocean is home, it truly is and always will be for me as well

- “I CAST MODIFY MEMORY” FJORD LMAOOOOOOO

- Okay, that Widobrave ending is what made me shed tears for the first time this episode... not to be Personal but my biological brother graduates High School tomorrow, and for some reason this conversation just reminded me so much of me and him and now I’m emotional

- NOT THE SYPHILIS BANDITS DSYUHDFJKLSFJ;DS OKAY I NEEDED THAT LAUGH

- “I’d like to hear about your friend” Kingsley aww

- Beau giving Kingsley her first diary to help him realize who they all are is actually so perfectly fitting, I love that!

- “The other eight and I, yes” Caleb counting all nine of them again  😭

- CALEB BEING OFFERED AN ASSEMBLY SEAT WTF AAAHHH

- Oh shit, Astrid took the Assembly seat... I’m not sure how I feel about this, I feel so bad for her for having to stay in the system that abused her for so long and I would have loved to see her burn the whole thing down, but I hope that she at least has a sense of contentment with this title

- “I go where you go, baby” Beauyasha.... my darling loves....

- Beau’s dad??? But also Beau being the one with power over her father is so Good, I’m glad that she got justice on that front as well!

- This talk with Artagan... “I didn’t want you to be a god. I wanted you to be my friend.” and in the process my love you created divinity... maybe divinity is the friends we made along the way

- OH SHIT WE ARE GETTING ALL THE VANDRAN LORE TONIGHT I’M READY LET’S GO LET’S GO

- VANDRAN AND AVANTIKA WERE AN ITEM???

- Wait crack theory: Sabian was a half elf right? Could he be the son of Vandren and Avantika? Or is that too much of a stretch? 

- Vandran going with them!!! Also I feel like that moment between Fjord and Vandran was lowkey a tease to a post-campain Uk’otoa one shot and I am ready for it already 

- THIS BEAUYASHA MOMENT... “i’ve never known anyone as deeply as i know you” & “explore every bit of you in multiple ways ;)” & “your past doesn’t scare me, it only makes you beautiful” .... this is so much they are so much i love them so much

- “I will have you and then some” Beauyasha   😭

- I’m torn between “oh my god there’s still half an hour left?” and “how is there only half an hour left??”

- “You will let this Skyspear live at least?” oh my god so Yasha killed the last Skyspear then? Oof...

- YASHA GIVING ZUALA(’S GRAVE) THE BOOK OF FLOWERS, OH DEAR HEART

- And Beau’s talk to Zuala about being the luckiest woman alive and sacrifice.... 😭  

- PLANTING FLOWERS AT ZUALA’S GRAVE... “NO BETTER GRAVE MARKER” THIS IS MAKING ME SO EMOTIONAL, I KNOW I’VE SAID THIS A LOT THIS EPISODE BUT THIS TRULY IS SO BEAUTIFUL

- So... I may or may not be crying again

- Shadowgast with a steel chair??

- Caleb’s plan for saving his parents... it’s clear he has thought of this so much, oh my darling love  😭

- Caleb burning down his chance to change his past is so symbolic and something he really needed to do, it does make me emotional though

- The other book was him writing to his parents?? Oh bby boy  😭  

- While I would have loved for Caleb to open his own magic school (especially with Essek, or the Mighty Nein, or someone else as well), I am so pleased that he stays with Veth and that their friendship continues for the rest of their life because again: they mean so so much to me, and in a way they remind me of me and my biological brother (which I never realized before this episode) and yeah. They just make me Emo

- Also. Caleb being a professor was my Number One Endgame Hope for him and the fact that it came true is just so surreal in the best way possible. I’m so used to being robbed of happy endings. The fact that the Mighty Nein all got theirs makes me incredibly happy. A story does not have to be sad to be impactful. Happy stories and happy endings, especially during a time period of tumultuous real life circumstances, have just as much value and meaning and they always will. Caleb is teaching the next generation magic, and he is teaching them to be Good, and he is nurturing them, and that just means so much

- MATT CRYING IS GONNA GET TO ME

- “Let’s do it again” Please, let’s.

- Okay, everyone. I made it all seven hours in one piece with surprisingly minimal tears (though who knows, this might all sink in tomorrow.) I already wrote my thoughts earlier today about how much the Mighty Nein mean to me and how much this show and these characters have kept me holding on during quarantine and today... I’m still not ready to let them go, but I know that I can always revisit to say hello and to say thank you for changing me. Until then though... I love you all more than you could ever know. And for the last time of Campaign 2... is it Thursday yet?

Good night 💗

[concubuck]

Extermination Day, Part 3

(Part 1)

(Part 2)

"AND IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS ELEVATOR, ON GOD I SWEAR, IT WON'T BE THE ANGELS YOU HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT—I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A HOMEGROWN HORROR CAN DO—"

"Please—!" The imp cowering far below Alastor leaned back against the elevator doors as if she hoped she could squeeze herself into the thin seam between them. "Sir, the elevators are shut down for your safety—"

"WORRY ABOUT YOUR OWN SAFETY, DARLING."

"—locked on royal authority—"

"AND YOU'LL UNLOCK THIS ONE ON MY AUTHORITY!"

"—not even moving—"

"THEY DON'T NEED TO BE!" Alastor pounded a bony fist on one of the doors, making the imp jump half a foot. "LET ME IN THE SHAFT AND I'LL CLIMB THE WALLS TO PRIDE MYSELF!"

"Please—I'm sorry, sir, there's nothing I can—"

"I COULD DEVOUR YOU AND PICK THE LOCK WITH YOUR BONES! I'M BEING GENEROUS BY GIVING YOU THE OPTION OF DOING IT THE EASY WAY—"

"Sir!" She sounded shocked. "You're making a scene!"

Her complaint was so mundane that it shook him out of his outrage. Making a scene. He wasn't in Pride, one of the irredeemably damned surrounded by the other irredeemably damned, a bad person doing bad things to other bad people; he was a succubus—a productive member of society—surrounded by civilized people who had never been imprisoned in Hell, they just lived here.

He tore his gaze away from the imp and looked around the room. The elevator terminal was filled with imps and hellhounds, sitting on benches and cots—last-minute refugees who'd been evenly distributed through the other six rings. And here he was, behaving like a sinner—twenty-five feet tall and covered in sharp points, berating a minimum wage employee for doing her job, like he expected her to make an exception for him just because he was used to having exceptions made for him by people who thought he was important. He was, in fact, making a scene.

He stepped back, shrinking back to his usual size, fangs disappearing from everywhere but his face and his antlers shrinking from a hundred prongs to four. "Of course," he said, voice subdued. "I'm terribly sorry for the commotion, my dear." He cleared his throat. "A—friend's stuck up there. Like family. He's been injured."

The imp nodded, her expression softening to cautious sympathy, but her mouth still pressed into a firm line in case he decided to cause trouble again.

He cleared his throat again, a crackle of static. "When do the elevators reopen?"

She gave him a wary look, but said, "The elevators starts at the bottom and only so many are allowed to board on each ring. The first elevator arrives at forty past midnight, but the first few trips are reserved for emergency responders and nobility..."

Alastor's gaze sharpened, and he gave her a moment of silence (but for the discordant, unsettling hiss of dead air) to decide how badly she wanted to risk him causing another scene. He might have been a productive member of society now; but that didn't erase the fact that'd also been one of the irredeemably damned. He'd act like a sinner if he had to.

Voice low, she quickly said, "But I think we can find a spot for you on the first ride, sir."

His ice cold smile widened. "That's very kind of you, my dear." He turned away from her and looked for somewhere nearby to sit.

Broadcasts spun through his head: his already-injured alternate resolving to fight even harder; another alternate under attack and abandoning his radio tower; one he'd barely even spoken to who sounded like he was either on the verge of a brain storm or trying to broadcast while under attack.

And here he was, least likely of any of them to draw an angel's direct attack, locked two rings away. What a clever little magician he was, that he had taught himself how to slide sideways through universes as easily as walking through a curtain, but never how to cross the gaps between the separate rings of Hell.

He took a seat to wait the eight long hours until the elevators reopened.

[gumnut-logic]

The Cane (Part 4)

@flyboytracy​​​ asked:

Steampunk AU: five uses for a cane and one time Scott used it for its intended purpose 😘

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Aaargh, those migraines messed with my muse on this one. Had to fight it the entire way and the cane reference is tiny. Hope you enjoy it anyway ::hugs to all::

Many thanks to @janetm74​​​ @tsarinatorment​​​ and @scribbles97​​​ for all their help and amazing support of my crazy. And to @flyboytracy​​​ for asking in the first place.

This be Steampunk AU with a mix of John snark, a little bit of wee!Tracys in a little bit of peril, some selfless Scott, and a reason you don’t want to mess with Five or her pilot.

-o-o-o-

4.

“This is very inconvenient.”

Scott stared at his brother in the dim light. “Is that an attempt at impersonating Lady Penelope?”

John stared back, dust drifting haphazardly off his hard helmet and goggles. “As you’ve said many times yourself, there is no use in panicking.”

He had to give his brother that. A sigh and he assessed their situation yet again, shining his torch about the space they found themselves in.

They were in a basement. It was likely that they were lucky, as all indications were that if they had been in any other part of the building, they would not be having this conversation or any other any time in the future. The basement had a wall of solid bedrock on one side, the building having been constructed with that in mind with half the plumbing bolted into the rock. Unfortunately, the rest of the structure had been built on sand, which promptly liquified when the earthquake hit.

Speaking of earthquake. “How long do you think before the next aftershock?”

John pulled out his notebook, took a note of the time on the watch he had strapped to his wrist, and scribbled down some math. “They are very unpredictable, but I’m hoping this last big one will give us some time. Or at least, Virgil some time to dig us out.”

Scott fiddled with his transmitter unit. There was no response on any frequency he attempted. Either the equipment was broken or something was stopping the signal from reaching his brothers. John had already pulled his apart and attempted a signal boost with no success.

They were both covered in dust, but fortunately uninjured.

But, for the moment, they were stuck.

Scott was not very good at sitting still.

“We may as well rest so we can be ready when needed.”

Scott grunted.

His brother ignored him and wiped off a large chunk of masonry with one leather-gloved hand and sat down. “You know Virgil will find us.”

Another grunt.

“Sit down, Scott. You can afford to take a minute to rest.”

He let out a breath and bit his lip, but with a sigh, he did as his brother asked.

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of dust and rock settling.

“Why did you come back in?” John’s voice was crisp, clear and calm.

“You were in here.” Obviously.

“But now both of us are trapped, whereas if you had run like you should have, you could be assisting Virgil to dig me out.”

Scott’s lips thinned. What had been his line of thinking? Had there been a line of thinking? To be honest, all he could recall was the thought that John was under a building that was about to collapse and he needed saving.

His voice was a little rough. “Virgil will get us out.”

“Hmm.” John was not looking at him.

“What did you expect me to do? Leave you here to die?”

Aquamarine turned calmly to catch his eyes. “Better than both of us.”

“We’re not dead.”

“Pure chance.”

John was always ever so direct.

“But important nonetheless.”

John sighed. “Reminds me of the well.”

Scott eyed him. “Really? You’re going to bring that up again?”

“Eternally, my dear brother.” John’s smirk was exceedingly annoying. “Besides, it passes the time.”

“I would rather spend time finding a way out of here.” Scott shot to his feet and began pacing around the space they were stuck in.

“If you disturb something that brings the rest of the building down on us, I’m haunting you until the end of time.”

Scott slumped a little. His brother was right. Messing with the fragile pile was just asking for trouble. They were lucky to have room to breathe, much less walk around.

“This is the reason why you ended up in the well, Scott. You haven’t changed in twenty odd years.”

Scott glared at him. His little brother had been six at the time, Scott only ten. The two of them had gone beyond the borders of the Tracy farm in Kansas and into land they shouldn’t have. They were exploring. John, as always, was a little more cautious, but Scott was ever running ahead.

It was rather ironic that it was John who fell in the well.

It wasn’t long dug, but the planks covering it were flimsy and the winds from the previous day had obscured them. John had gone through them as if the planet had eaten him.

“John!”

Scott found his little brother clutching his leg at the bottom of the hole.

It wasn’t a very deep well, but it was deep enough to put his brother out of the reach of a ten-year-old.

“Scotty, my leg hurts.”

“I’ll get you out.” He looked around for something to help John.

Perhaps he knew in some part of his mind that this could be the wrong decision. He had no rope and no real way to reach his little brother. He should get help.

But he couldn’t leave Johnny here on his own.

The thought was terrifying from both of their perspectives.

Perhaps he would have thought it a little less terrifying if he realised what could happen if he didn’t fetch help. Because once he found a long enough stick, he reached over the edge and while doing his best to add to the length John couldn’t quite reach, he fell in the hole on top of his brother.

There were groans and tears after that.

Scott didn’t hurt himself. John had been heard to comment on multiple occasions thereafter that it was because he landed on a cushion he called brother.

Scott countered that by saying he was lucky he hadn’t been impaled by a bony limb of said scrawny brother.

In any case, they huddled together for warmth for thirty-six freezing hours until someone finally found them.

By then, both brothers were dehydrated and starving.

The lecture from their father was almost as long as their time in the well.

Their mother, pregnant with Gordon at the time, took ill with the fright and there was some seriously scary time until the little fish was born a month later…a touch early.

Virgil wouldn’t let either of his brothers out of his sight for a good year after the incident. The nine-year-old obviously terrified they would disappear again.

It became legendary in the Tracy household for good or bad.

“So, you’re saying, I should have gone for help?”

Something clunked in the pile of rubble.

John arched an eyebrow. “As I said, you haven’t learnt. Yes, Scott, you should not have dashed back into the collapsing building. When Virgil finds out, he’s going to scalp you.”

“I’m sorry that my first instinct is to protect my brothers.”

John rolled his eyes, both original and artificial. “Your first instinct should be to protect yourself so you can protect your brothers.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Scott shifted his weight onto one foot, cocking his hip. “Fine. Then explain Bermuda.”

“That was different. That was saving lives.”

“You rammed a twenty-eight gunned frigate with Five!”

“It was firing on a sinking civilian target full of over two hundred passengers, including my four brothers. Grandma was not aboard. It was a fair decision.”

Scott had to admit it had been spectacular, the huge, blue-grey, manta-ray-shaped Five had reared out of the ocean and sliced the pirate vessel in half.

International Rescue had fished the survivors out of the water and there had been minimal casualties, considering.

Five had taken damage, but her cahelium superstructure was designed to withstand something as simple as a mostly wooden hull. Some gentle care from Virgil, an assessment from Hiram, and she was declared fit and well.

They had disappeared for a while after that as the rumours ran riot. Lady Penelope managed to smooth any ruffled feathers at government level.

Scott had both commended and roasted John alive.

“You could have been killed.”

“So could have you, and Virgil and Gordon and little Allie. Was I supposed to sit back and watch?”

Another clunk from somewhere in the rubble.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps, you know how I feel.”

“Of course, I know how you feel. We all do.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Scott-“

But John was interrupted by another clank, this time clearly from one of the pipes against the wall.

“Virgil?” They both said it at once and hurried over to the rock face.

The clunk repeated itself and then started on a very familiar dot dot dot…

S C O T T

He reached behind and pulled his folded cane out of its sleeve on his back. Its metal tip shone dull brass in the yellow light.

He only had to tap one letter. Dot dot dot dash.

V.

Three letters came back in a hurried jumble of excited hammering. F A B.

Then…S T A T U S?

J  A N D  S   W E L L  A N D  M O B I L E.

S T A N D  B A C K ?

F A B.

Assuming Virgil was referring to the rock wall as the point of origin, the two brothers stepped as far back from it as they could.

Moments later a rumble and hiss of gears, the crash of breaking masonry and daylight suddenly shot through part of the rubble. This was quickly followed by a massive but familiar brass claw reaching in and grabbing a large chunk of rock, disappearing with it. A crunch of gravel, shove of rock…a shout. “Scott, are you in here? John?” Their goggled and fully armour-suited brother pushed the rest of the way through the pile of broken building, both claws fully extended.

“Over here, Virgil.”

Their brother’s head turned in their direction and metal shoulders sank in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

Something shifted in the rubble pile and Virgil reacted, his right claw slamming into the chunk of masonry threatening to fall. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Scott didn’t need to be told twice as the remains of the building creaked around them in warning. Grabbing John’s arm, he hustled his brother out through the gap past Virgil.

The engineer’s eyes on the both of them.

No doubt there would be a medical examination in their near future.

Shoving John gently ahead of him, Scott turned to keep an eye on Virgil.

His metal clad brother stepped back carefully, letting rock fall in his wake.

Then, as if the final domino had been tipped, the entire pile began collapsing in on itself.

Scott took a step towards Virgil only to have his arm yanked on from behind.

“Damnit, Scott protect yourself!” John dragged him through the remains of the rubble as a cloud of dust roared behind them.

“Virgil!” He dug his heels in, fighting John’s hold.

“He’s wearing his armour, Scott. You are not! Move!”

It went against everything. He had to protect his brothers first. But John was right. Neither of them was wearing enough protection. Virgil was.

He had to trust.

Trust that Virgil knew what he was doing.

When put in those terms the answer was simple. Of course, he trusted Virgil.

Perhaps it was fate he had issues with.

John dragged him clear of the building and the cloud of dust. Two, nestled on her landing struts, was a wonderful sight.

And then Gordon was grabbing at him. Alan was yelling his name and there were dusty hugs and clunking helmets.

But still the cloud…

“Virgil?”

As if summoned, his brother strode out of the haze, cogs whirring and pneumatic systems hissing, metal glinting in the sun. His goggled eyes searching until they latched onto his brothers.

Thank god.

A matter of strides and he enveloped his engineer brother in a hug, metal suit and all. “Thanks, Virg.”

His brother exhaled in a huff. “What on Earth were you thinking?” And so began the rant about worrying about a brother encased in metal when a building is falling when he wasn’t and could have been killed with a single rock. You idiot.

It went on for some time.

John smirked at him for the entire tirade.

-o-o-o-

Next

[vampiresuns]

Look Into My Eyes and Tell Me What You See | Anatole x Oz’mandias

Prompt 11.- Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter, requested by @asras3rdeye in Ozynana’s awaited (for us) comeback. 1k words.

Characters featured: Oz’mandias (@asras3rdeye), Aelius Anatole Radošević 

Kissing prompts

While Anatole preferred to wake on his own terms, when his body decided, out of both habit and the type of medication he took he had become accustomed to rising early. He would rise between twenty minutes minus seven at the earliest and twenty minutes past seven at the latest. Forty past in a particularly indulgent work-week morning. 

Not until his drops or coffee settled in, Anatole’s normal disposition was tainted by irritability, the world fully revelling in the irony that was a man named after the sun being at such odds about having to wake up himself. 

Dear Gods he did not have a particular inclination for, save him from Oz’mandias who woke up at ungodly, godawful early hours. As if anticipating Anatole would not appreciate being stirred from where he was (between Ozy’s arms, face squished against his chest), he could feel the ghost of Ozy’s lips against his skin, in a still half-asleep stupor. Lips that pressed wherever they could find, from Anatole’s head to his temple, the shell of his ear or his arms. 

With a whine of complaint, Anatole buried himself deeper against Oz’mandias, wrapping himself around him and preventing him from moving as he had just tried. He kissed Anatole’s cheek from a strange angle, then moved, but Nana had different plans. 

“But I’m comfortable,” he mumbled. His displeasure was apparent, yet harmless.

Oz’mandias rolled on his back, Anatole followed through without opening his eyes. 

“It’s too early.”

“It’s eight,” Ozy said, kissing the crown of Anatole’s head as his fingers traced patterns over his naked back. 

“It’s Saturday.”

Ozy laughed and let Anatole have his way, but not without a little teasing on his end. Nana nipped him softly in retaliation, kissing the same spot afterwards. 

“I get to have you once in a blue moon, spoil me at the very least.”

Without looking at him, Nana could tell Ozy was about to say something, he himself readying another nip if he had to, but something must have gone through Ozy’s mind that made him decide against it. Instead, he began tracing the patterns of Anatole’s spine, feeling him hum in satisfaction against his chest, the ghost of his smile against his skin. Anatole found a way to half wrap his arms around Ozy too. 

Oz’mandias chuckled to himself. 

“What?” Nana’s muffled, sleepy voice quipped.

“Maybe you’re right, you do deserve spoiling. You work too much—”

“Not this,” Anatole groaned, wrapping his arms underneath Ozy and squeezing him, trying to bury himself a little further against him.

“Then what?” 

“This.”

Ozy thought Nana was going to squeeze him more and fall asleep again. Perhaps roll them over so he could fully wrap himself around him. He even had a sun-snake joke at the ready. Anatole, however, started to kiss him. Without a clear pattern, he began giving his chest, clavicle and shoulders small, blind kisses. He pressed his lips against Oz’mandias’ skin with tenderness and affection, and just a bit of stubborn sleep that still hung onto his mouth, as some of the kisses lingered more than the others. 

The spot Anatole kissed the most on his chest was right over where his heart was supposed to be, though he didn’t leave his kisses there. Untangling himself from Oz’mandias, he began kissing his way up his neck until he reached his lips. When he did, he looked at Ozy through half-lidded eyes, smiling at him after kissing him a couple of times. 

Ozy traced the shape of his smiling lips. “Your smile is very radiant.”

“Your heart is beating very quickly.”

Ozy gave out a nervous laugh. “You caught me.”

When Anatole kissed him again it was a little less sleepy and for far longer than the other times. 

“Do you want to go meditate while I settle everything else, and you can take me through a hike in the City while it’s entirely too early for a Saturday?”

“I already did that, I’ve been awake for a while.”

Anatole sighed, rolling his eyes affectionately. “Of course you did.”

He sat back, straddling Oz’mandias and letting the bed covers fall back. He took his hands in his, lacing their fingers together. “I can also offer you showering together before breakfast.”

Ozy didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on Anatole, taking in how he looked in the morning light; despite it not being the first time he saw him in it, it felt like it was. Perhaps they all felt like the first time, because every time they were together, Anatole found a way to challenge and disarm him. He looked beautiful like this, hair loose, brow not furrowed…

He looked away. He could hear Nana’s concerned frown in his voice as he rubbed absent circles against his hand. 

“Hey, look at me. What is it, sweetheart?”

“Now I feel a little guilty about prying you from your bed, you probably don’t want—”

“I will stop you right there,” Anatole said as he pulled him up, so he could sit and look at him (somewhat) face to face. Untangling one of their laced-together fingers, he cupped his cheek. “I do want to. I want to see pretty much everything you want to show me, I’m just irritable in the mornings, especially before coffee. It’s not you. Please, never doubt it isn’t you.”

When Anatole asked if he could kiss him again, offering space and reassurance in the same act, Ozy closed the distance between their lips before replying a little too earnestly. He couldn’t put it to words then, but inside his head, inside that heart of his —the one he didn’t always know how to verbalise or even notice— it make perfect sense that in that moment, Ozy needed to kiss this man who carried the world in his arms with such devotion, or he’d die. 

Well, not really, but he’d try to think about how to explain it another time. Right then, he was all too happy to have Anatole’s freely offered attention as he followed him into the shower, so he could follow Oz’mandias into the streets afterwards.

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 9: Hesitancy

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Changing the chapter naming scheme; my brain can't handle two-word summaries anymore. This one is a lil short but very soft and I promise relationship progress is made. As always, I hope you love it. <3

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary:  “Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

“Why would it?”

Words: 1962

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

There was no way in hell you could go into work today.

You didn’t actually have a choice, which is why you’d driven there. But you simply couldn’t command your feet to walk you into that office, towards the teams’ inquisitive stares and deductive skills that were closer to mind-reading than you were entirely comfortable with. You’d adjusted and re-adjusted your lipgloss several times over in the mirror, brushed through your hair, and even though you knew there was no way the team could know what happened 20 minutes ago in the park, you felt like you might as well have been wearing a neon sign that said “Aaron Hotchner and I Just Kissed (On the Lips).”

So you were holed up in the parking garage of the FBI in your piece of shit 2007 Toyota Camry. Stalling.

You sighed when you felt your phone buzz, knowing what the notification was. You were only seven minutes late, but seven minutes was eight too many in Hotch’s book. You checked the message.

Hotch: Please come inside.

So he knew you were hiding out, then. You sighed and slammed the car door, trudging up the stairwell and into the building.

Exiting the elevator to your floor, you paused outside of the frosted glass doors leading to the BAU and tried to still your breathing. Despite Hotch’s apparent instant regret and quick departure occupying the forefront of your mind, you still couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect that kiss had been. The part of you that wasn’t filled with panic about his reaction was squealing like a little kid at the confirmation that holy shit, he liked you too. You took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of professionalism and composure you could muster, and walked in.

You made it less than halfway to your desk.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa; don’t just walk in here like I’m gonna let that slide.” Morgan swung his legs off his desk and stood up in front of you. “Every day you get in at least ten minutes early and now you’re walking in late looking like you got something to hide. Spill it.”

Your open-mouthed gaping by way of response was blissfully interrupted by Hotch calling your name from the balcony overlooking the bullpen.

“Garcia needs your help finishing up reports. Meet her in her office.”

You shrugged to Morgan. “Duty calls. Sorry!”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy!” he called after you as you scampered towards the safety of Garcia’s tech lair.

You knocked on her door, and she greeted you with her standard excess of enthusiasm.

“Come in! I’m just going through my keylogs for the past few cases and filling out reports of every database I had to access less-than-legally.” She shot you an evil grin. “Which is a lot. You can help me by typing up the information into the actual reports on your computer.”

Just happy to be away from the teams’ prying eyes, especially a certain someone’s, you nodded. “Let’s do it.”

***

Not half an hour had passed when Garcia swiveled towards you in her chair, clutching her pink feathered pen with a knowing glint in her eyes. “So. Tell me.”

“What?” you asked, trying to hide your shock with feigned innocence.

“Oh, honey, come on. I may not be a profiler, but I’ve picked up a couple things throughout the years. And I can tell something’s up.”

“God damn it,” you groaned and laid back in your chair. “I thought this was a no-profiling zone.”

She smiled even wider, if that was possible. “It is. But for you, my dear, I have made an exception.”

“Did Morgan put you up to this?”

“He may have possibly texted me telling me that you were late this morning.”

You rolled your eyes.

“But you’re never late! Even I know that! So -” she scooted closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “- spill.”

Sighing, you weighed your options. The last thing you wanted to do was create drama and jeopardize your position, much less Hotch’s reputation, but you were itching to tell someone - if only to get their opinion on the matter. And it wasn’t as if you had anyone else to talk to…

“Fine!”

Garcia rapidly motioned her hands to signify you to continue.

“But you can’t tell anybody, okay? I’m serious, Penelope.”

“Not even-”

“Especially not Morgan.”

She pouted but reluctantly agreed, and you took a deep breath and told her everything.

How you’d developed an innocent crush at first, how it had spiraled out of control, how you’d visited his apartment and he’d told you about his past, and finally, how he’d kissed you in the park just that morning. You stopped, awaiting her reaction, but she was uncharacteristically silent.

“...Garcia?”

She cleared her throat and leaned forward. “I’m sorry, are we talking about Aaron Hotchner, like Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, like boss man Aaron Hotchner? Mr. Grumpy? Never smiles, always wears a suit, carries the weight of the world on his sculpted shoulders?”

You glared, waiting for her to finish.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, “It’s just -” her voice softened, “- in the whole time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him act like that. Bring someone coffee, breakfast, open up to them. The whole bit.”

Your heart fluttered more than you’d like to admit at that.

“Listen,” she continued, “I don’t have to tell you that life has not been kind to that man. And I’m not gonna give you the stupid speech about dating an older man or dating your boss, because I don’t give a shit. But I will tell you - he’s been through enough. So if this isn’t what you want, back out now.”

Her tone was kind, but the seriousness of her message was evident. You nodded in understanding.

“I get it, but I don’t think he’s the one that’s gonna end up getting hurt here.”

“Well, hopefully nobody will get hurt and you’ll both ride off into the sunset together. But you gotta talk to him first.” She ignored your pained groan. “I’m serious! Nothing good is going to come out of you guys dancing around this. People act really stupid when they’re pretending they’re not in love with each other.”

Cocking your eyebrow, you shot back, “Kinda like you and Morgan?”

She flushed scarlet and waggled her ostentatious pen in your direction. “Touché.”

***

The thought of being emotionally vulnerable to Hotch made you more nauseous than you’d like to admit, but the more you mulled over it, the more you realized Garcia was right. Hotch knew how you felt - your fervent response to the kiss had made that abundantly clear - so what did you have to lose, really?

(Besides your career and the respect of your boss, but you tried not to consider that possibility).

He’d kissed you, you reminded yourself as you tried to focus on reports.

He cares about you, you recited like a mantra as you waited for the workday to end.

He’s twice your age and a widower with a dead kid and your Unit Chief, you panicked in the bathroom as you avoided the knowing eyes of the rest of the team.

Still, 6 pm limped in eventually and you bid everyone a good night from your desk as they filtered out. Hotch, unsurprisingly, was not among them. You planned to wait until you two were alone in the office so you could approach him undisturbed.

What you didn’t expect was just how late he worked - it was nearly 9 by the time he locked up his office, briefcase in hand, and turned to see you still sitting at your desk.

“Oh,” he said. You tried to decipher the tone of the syllable - surprised? Pleased? Indifferent? But came up short.

“I thought we could talk,” you offer cautiously.

“About wha-” he began, then seemed to think better of pretending he didn’t know and sighed. “You’re right. We should.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. “I wanted to apologize for my actions this morning. I took advantage of a situation where you felt comfortable spending time with me outside of the office, and I should have never let it get that far. If you want to speak to Strauss about transferring units, I completely understand.”

You gaped at him. Was it truly possible for a man this astute, this in-tune with human behavior, to be this stupid?  

“Is that what you think this is?” you asked, practically launching yourself out of your seat from the sheer force of your bewilderment. “You think you took advantage of me? That I just went along with it because you’re my boss or something?”

The barely concealed shame in his eyes answered not only that question, but also the one you’d asked yourself beforehand - no, Hotch wasn’t stupid. He was broken. He was filled with so much self-hatred that the only explanation he could concoct as to why you were spending so much time with him was the one where you were trying to avoid offending your creepy, older boss. The realization filled you with such heartbreak that you nearly choked on your next words.

“Aaron,” you started, and it was strange how well a name you’d never before dared to say fit in your mouth, “I’ve -”

Don’t say loved.

“- liked you since that case in San Diego. I don’t know how you haven’t figured that out, considering the fact that I wake up an hour early every morning - I hate mornings, by the way - to get coffee with you. But I like you. And I know for a fact you feel the same way, so don’t try to pretend like you did after the bar.”

The number of times Hotch had been rendered speechless in his lifetime could be counted on one hand, and this made the list. You waited for him to respond, and he did, finally, in the most muted voice you’d ever heard him use.

“It isn’t right.”

“Please,” you implored, taking a step closer to him. “Don’t do that. You’re not going to talk me out of this, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to talk yourself out of it too.”

“I’m your Unit Chief,” he said, his voice regaining the power that usually accompanied that statement, “and I’m old enough to be your father.”

“And I’m an adult fully capable of making her own decisions,” you responded.

“The practicalities; they’d be a mess. Informing the Bureau, the team…”

“Would I have to quit my internship?” you asked, your only genuine hesitancy surrounding the situation.

“Well, no,” he shook his head slowly, “but we'd be subject to a much higher level of scrutiny.”

“I’m prepared to be scrutinized.”

“Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

“Why would it?”

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell what he was thinking. A man like him, someone who carried more than a few lifetimes of trauma and guilt, wasn’t someone to get involved with on a whim - for both of your sakes. This was more so the concern, you suspected, than anything he’d already mentioned.

“I know what I’m getting into, Hotch. I’m not expecting this to be easy.”

“Well, I -” he shifted uncomfortably, more visibly nervous than you’d ever seen him. “Can I least give you time to think about it?”

“Doubt I’ll be able to think about anything else,” you teased, and, with a sudden surge of courage, you stepped forward on your tiptoes to plant a feather-light kiss on his cheek.

The flush that spread up his neck was, decidedly, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

Taglist: @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 (Message me if you want to be added!)

[fleckcmscott]

Stepping Stones - Chapter 2

Chapter links: 1

Summary: Y/N and Arthur share a delightful life, one that isn’t perfect but wholly theirs. When his struggles take a serious turn, she's surprised by the toll it exacts. Though the steps they'll have to take aren't easy, walking them together makes all the difference.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Struggles with mental illness

Words: 3,739

A/N: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for offering to beta-read this story and her encouragement. Her contributions have been invaluable! Also, thank you guys for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And don’t worry: there may be angst - but there’s love, too. 

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! I’m still working on requests and Way Back Home!

Y/N wasn't used to being searched. It'd last happened at the District Courthouse when she'd gotten in the wrong line and nearly wound up in the jury room for a murder trial. At least the stout woman in Arkham's visitor entrance lobby was more pleasant than the bailiffs.

Unassuming in a white polo shirt and black pants, her nametag introduced her as Gladys, and the split "I Can Help!" sticker along the top cemented her as a fixture. She was friendly for a Gothamite, commenting on the sunny weather while unceremoniously dumping the contents of Y/N's handbag onto a plastic table pad. Asking about the ride over as she politely ignored tampons and confiscated a nail file. She spelled Y/N's name back to her before jotting it on the sign-in sheet and offered a genuine smile. "You have a nice time with your husband, dear. Just check out with me before you leave."

Visitor's badge pinned above her left breast, Y/N adjusted the collar of her red silk blouse, ensured the heart pendent around her neck was centered, and pushed through the door marked "Visitation."

Her kitten heels click-clacked across the checkerboard linoleum floor. The cafeteria was large, like an elementary school gymnasium without the scoreboards. Lack of funding had turned the once pristine walls to the off-white of a bathtub that had seen too few scrubbings. Large windows dotted them in sets of two, each covered with grate from the inside. Metal fans were riveted to their frames, a poor attempt to compensate for the lack of fresh air. To her left, six rows of steel tables stretched halfway across the room, about a third full of staff and patients, family members and friends. A metal buffet stood to her right, along with a sign stating a menu of beef cutlets and gravy would be served at 5:30 PM. A pony wall separated a family area on the far end. She spotted a patient with his wife and daughter watching cartoons together, ones that were old enough for Y/N to have grown up on.

It struck her how average the place felt, similar to the hospital back home she'd spent far too many hours in. It made sense: the people here were patients like any other, even if they were under lock and key. When she headed to the aluminum coffee urn on a rickety steel cart, there was a woman, around thirty, making conversation with a new wave chick, holding a ragged teddy bear and pulling her hair. Their eyes met and Y/N attempted a friendly smile. Once she'd purchased two cups, she sat by a window and crossed her legs, foot swinging back and forth as she sipped the stale liquid.

She tried to quell her nervous anticipation. Due to his time of admittance, Arthur's forty-eight-hour observation period had stretched late into Thursday night, well after visiting hours. Tasks big and small had punctuated the wait. One of Arthur's clients called to confirm a birthday party, and Y/N, hazy from lack of sleep, explained there'd been a family emergency.

Then it dawned on her that she'd have to find Arthur's gig list, which meant rummaging through his desk, a private space she'd respected since presenting him with it for their anniversary. Thank god he no longer locked the drawers, because she had no idea where he kept the key. (There were only so many hiding places in their three-room apartment, but she had no desire to search every nook and cranny.) The yellow legal pad resided in the top left drawer, under a prop catalog and kraft paper notebook. After ringing Gary and asking him to fill in ("I'm not sure I can do all these, but I can mention them at HaHa's." "That'd be great but don't get yourself in trouble. And, please, leave out Randall."), she telephoned eight households and three businesses with his contact information and apologies.

She worked extra hours in the evening to make up for the time she'd inevitably take off when Arthur was home, an arrangement that wasn't strictly legal, but she didn't see the harm in. Her colleagues graciously ignored the number of personal calls she made, to ask how Arthur was doing and learn about policies. While he wasn't yet rational, staff said, he was cooperative. Well, mostly cooperative. He'd eaten breakfast and referred to everyone as sir or ma'am, but he'd also caused a ruckus when he'd come to and found his wedding ring missing. They'd made an exception to the no jewelry rule and given it back. Personal clothing wasn't permitted, either, besides underwear, and toiletries were out of the question. It irked her - he deserved the dignity of his own hairbrush - but she didn't want to single him out by arguing for further favors. So she shuttled over a week's worth of briefs on her lunch break, chest tight as she gave it to the man with headphones at reception.

Despite the setting, despite the weight of not knowing what mood he'd be in, a thrill bubbled through her veins. Whenever a silhouette appeared behind the glue chip glass of the patient entrance, her pulse skipped. Y/N knew it was silly to expect a lot this first visit but she couldn't help it. She missed him. She missed him. Like it had been thirty days instead of three.

It took about six minutes for the door to crack an inch, and a full ten seconds for it to open completely. An orderly propped his weight against it, pointing in her general direction with his head. She stood and smoothed her palm down her A-line skirt, ensured the hem was at her knee. Maybe it was selfish, perhaps even foolish, but she hoped the surprise would be a highlight of Arthur's day, make him feel better, and she hoped seeing him would be one of hers. He was still her partner, after all. Still her Arthur. That would never change.

Clad in white scrubs and white shoes and about twenty feet away, Arthur stepped over the threshold and scanned the room. She gave him a modest wave when she caught his eye. His approach was more tentative than she would have liked, his steps shorter than usual, fists balled at his sides. As he drew closer, she noted the oiliness of his hair, the two-day black and grey stubble on his chin. His crow's feet had grown deeper, his eyelids slightly purple. Exhaustion dripped from every pore. The cut on his forehead had scabbed over into a thin line, quite modest considering its origin and how much he'd bled.

But he was as beautiful to her as always. The hint of a smile tipped her mouth. "Hi, Arthur."

"Hi," he said lowly. A reservation she barely recognized clouded his light green irises.

Part of her began to suspect popping in like this had been a mistake. Giving up wasn't in her nature, however, especially when it came to the love of her life. She forged ahead, closing the gap between them. Dr. Kellerman had advised her to let Arthur set the pace of their visits, to offer support while respecting his boundaries. Yet, touching him had become as vital to her as breathing, and it didn't occur to her to ask for permission before she reached to cup his face.

His skin felt papery under her fingertips, and red, flakey spots of dermatitis bloomed next to his nose and below his eye. He smelled of cheap bar soap and detergent, though whiffs of his woodsy masculine scent lurked underneath. But his clothes were clean and fit him well, better than half his own wardrobe. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, tracing his sharpened cheeks.

He nodded weakly, lips pursed into a grimace of disbelief. "Good."

"I got us some coffee. We can sit here or on one of the sofas."

"Here's fine."

She took his hand and led him to their table, itching for him to entwine their fingers, lamenting a little when he didn't. While he followed closely, his posture radiated tension like an oven radiated heat. Rather than the gait they'd adopted over the years, he moved as if he was afraid to touch her, as if he feared she'd disappear. Or reject him. Once he was situated and stirring sugar into his cup, she sat beside him and bumped their legs, refusing to let his fears go unchallenged. "How's your room?"

"It's okay. Just me. I'm not there much." He blew lightly on his steaming brew. "I haven't seen this part of the hospital before."

Y/N arched her brow. "No?"

"Penny had trouble getting over here to visit. When I had episodes."

Flabbergasted, a huff of disapproval escaped her. Arthur had been in out Arkham six or seven times, and Penny hadn't made it over once? According to Arthur, she'd been sick for a while, but what about twenty years ago? Even later, they hadn't had any money, which meant she would've had to care for herself while he was away. If she had had the wherewithal to go through the process of committing her son, couldn't she have at least called a cab? Y/N pushed her ire aside, not wanting it to affect Arthur. "Did you see your therapist today?"

"Mhm."

"Is he good? Does he listen to you?"

"He's fine."

She took a long drink. "Did you get the underwear I brought over?"

"Yeah." he sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "They wrote my name on the waistband."

"I'll get new ones," she said, tapping her chin in contemplation, opting for a little cheer. "Donahue's has a racy number from Mad Mod. How'd you feel about zig-zag bikinis in maroon?" Instead of the laugh she'd craved, the incredulous smirk he saved for ridiculous suggestions, his knees quaked, bouncing and bouncing, freshly wound springs in bleached cotton.

None of this was going as she'd pictured.

Self-consciousness was atypical for her, a personality trait she'd shed in her late twenties after a failed marriage and the beginning of her parents' declines. Being with Arthur felt secure, open, even during his worst days. When he'd discovered his mother's Arkham file, learned the details of his abuse. Or the weeks after she'd passed and any chance of finding out more about himself, the truth about his father and chance to get a crumb of paternal affection, had died along with her.

Gathered at this table with her husband and bad coffee, old insecurities returned with the force of a subway careening at full speed. She sought to encourage him but didn't want to dismiss his feelings, harken back when he'd been burdened with "Happy." Her questions were obviously getting on his nerves - she was at a loss as to how he'd react to more of them. Their banter had vanished. The clues she had to follow were based on an old map, comprised of well-worn paths to joy she could walk with her eyes closed. Now those paths were overgrown with weeds.

But she wouldn't stop trying to trim them. Some shears were in reach: a woman's magazine lay abandoned on a nearby table, famous for its relationship quizzes and bedroom advice. She snagged it, scooted her chair closer to Arthur, and flipped through the glossy pages until the headline "Are You Meant To Be?" screamed in bright pink font. She cleared her throat and read aloud. "'You and your husband are shipwrecked on a desert island. You can take any household item with you. What item would you bring?'" She paused, then went with what first came to mind. "Toothbrush. I can't expect you to kiss me when I-"

"Why are you acting like this?"

Her gaze locked on him. "Like what?"

"Like I haven't fucked everything up."

Automatically, she reached for his thigh, not heeding the angry twitch of his jaw. "You haven-"

He batted her arm away, inadvertently knocking the magazine to the floor. "Don't lie to me," he rasped. "I don't like you seeing me like this. I don't want you to have to come visit and pretend." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, an anger she recognized as shame dripping from every word. "Can you please just go?"

Pain lanced through her, pain she hadn't felt since her father, deep in the throes of dementia, had accused her of stealing from him. Her lashes lowered to hide her hurt. Arthur acting like this was proof of how out of sorts he was, how much he was struggling with his illnesses. But it didn't make his behavior any easier to take, even if she firmly believed it should. She had to try to accept him as he was in the moment. To forgive him and herself for pressing him too far, too quickly. To listen to his request for time, the way he'd listened to hers after the Murray show, giving her the gift of patience and understanding. A gift he also deserved.

Pushing herself to stand, she glanced at the orderly and lay a gentle palm on Arthur's back. To her relief, he didn't retreat. "I'm here if you need me," she said softly. "If you feel up to it, give me a ring. We could both use a joke or two." Fingertips caressed his distended shoulder, and she pecked the crown of his head, breathed in the oily musk of his scalp. Not entirely pleasant but him all the same. "We'll see each other soon. Get some rest and remember I love you."

~~~~~

"This woman wandered in off the street the other day. Pointy-toed shoes, fur coat, pillbox hat like she thinks she's Jackie Kennedy..." Perched on Y/N's side of the bed, Patricia dunked her orange pekoe teabag, gave it a good squeeze, laid it on her saucer. "She wanted to sue the Wayne Estate for damages to her Bentley, because Thomas Wayne had broken a legally binding oral agreement - she must have read a legal thriller and gotten haughty - to fix the potholes in Old Gotham when he was mayor. I told her to complain to Public Works, but she decided to camp out at your old desk to clip her nails. Finally, Matt had enough and offered her a phone call to Gotham PD or ten bucks for her trouble." She shook her head with a chuckle. "What a jackass. Retirement can't come soon enough."

"Don't wish your life away," Y/N retorted, inadvertently quoting a pamphlet she'd gotten from the Arkham gift shop, "Care for the Caregiver." The title had made her balk: Arthur bathed himself, fed himself, knew who she was. But it had been a straw to hold onto, albeit feebly. She retrieved a curved, wooden hanger from the closet and stuck one end in the arm of her freshly ironed blouse. "Besides, you've been working since you were sixteen, right? I give it a year before you'd go stir-crazy."

"Actually, I've been thinking about taking a class or two at the learning center," said Patricia.

"Oh, really? What kind? Pottery, advanced baking, conversational Spanish?"

"How to find nicer friends."

Hand on her hip, Y/N smirked over her shoulder to find Patricia's teacup raised for a toast. "Let me know what you learn," Y/N said, hoisting the laundry basket onto the bed. "I could use a few pointers." She batted the older woman with a dress sock, then fished for its companion. She shook them out. Aligned the cuffs and toes, smoothed the nylon with the side of her hand, folded the fabric into thirds. The top drawer's left ball-bearing slide stuck when she tried to pull it open, and she made a mental note to ask Arthur to take a look at it.

Without warning, a profound sense of loss swept over her, flushing her cheeks, her forehead. He'd been gone almost a week, the longest they'd been apart aside from conferences and training. Her days had been blessedly busy but dragged on nonetheless, slow as the secondhand on her watch when the battery had to be replaced.

Arthur had gotten in the habit of leaving a note whenever he had an early gig or errand to run, just a few words stating where he was, that he'd be home later, that he loved her. Though she knew he was in Arkham, she couldn't stop her heart from expecting one when she made morning coffee. She ached to pull him inside before he lit a second cigarette, and for his teasing kisses when he'd resist. The way he brushed his teeth from side-to-side, eschewing her method of small circles and daily flossing. Last night, a hot flash had kept her awake, and she'd longed for the feel of his strong, slender hands rubbing refrigerated lotion into her calves, a trick he'd learned to quiet his mother when she'd gone through what he politely referred to as The Change.

Y/N had never wanted to love someone so much she needed them, but Arthur had made it safe. And now here she was, anguishing over a stubborn piece of furniture. She gave the knob another good, hard heave until it popped off into her palm. With a groan, she slapped it on the top of the dresser, between his wallet and her jewelry box.

A gentle hold on her elbow halted her. "The clothes'll keep," Patricia said.

The compassion in her voice, subtle chords that would sound like judgement to others, loosened Y/N's stance. Granted permission for her to take a break from coping and give into grief. Slinking down onto the mattress, she picked up Arthur's blue house pants from the mound of panties and trousers and hugged them to her breast.

"Your anniversary is coming up," Patricia continued. "Will Arthur be home for it?"

"Yes. Three weeks is all the insurance will pay for, and Dr. Kellerman said we were lucky to get that." Most patients were discharged after two, even if they had nowhere else to go.

"How is he? Do you think he'll be ready then?"

"I'm not sure. He barely comes to the phone." She'd tried letters, too. Written on her office letterhead, declarations of her support and affection that were as stilted as the motions she regularly drafted. Something for him to read when they couldn't speak, when they couldn't touch. But he hadn't responded.

Although Y/N was the sole person he'd added to his list of allowed visitors, he hadn't signed the release. Sure, she'd learn the details of his care if a court remanded him, but she wasn't about to have him declared legally incompetent, not unless everything went to shit. But she had deduced his schedule by calling and asking if he could come to the phone. He's in group, Mrs. Fleck, the charge nurse had let slip. Or, You can try in an hour. He should be out of one-on-one by then.

Therapy three times a day. Safety and daily living skills. Goal setting before bed. No wonder he hadn't had the energy to say good night.

"I know what you're going through," Patricia said. She stretched to put her empty teacup on the nightstand. "When Robert got back from Korea, he kept his distance. Buried himself in starting his business, was gone most nights on extra late repair jobs, worked, worked, worked. It was nearly a year before he really came home. But he made it and Arthur will, too."

The intimacy behind the disclosure was a welcome invitation, a hook that tugged at Y/N's core and confirmed honesty would be all right. She drew a shaky breath, fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of Arthur's pajamas. "I thought I'd seen everything. Losing my mother, going out of my mind with my father. Those were finalities I couldn't prevent." Rapid blinking fought the wetness of her eyes. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "If you had seen him, Patricia... I just hope Arthur understands. I don't want him to think I wanted him to leave."

"Listen to me." Patricia adopted her mentor tone and hugged her tight around the middle. "There's no way he'd believe that. Remember when we doubled at Kao Wah? When we were in the restroom, and he ordered your favorite dish without having to ask what it was? He adores you." She swept her hand through the air as if she could sweep away Y/N's woes. "You promised to take care of him through everything. You did what you had to to keep him safe. You couldn't have done anything else, Y/N. Don't doubt yourself."

After some moments Y/N nodded. "You know, my parents had a swimming hole on our property. When I was young, I used to skip stones across it and make wishes. For my doll's arm to mend, for my parents to say safe, for my sister's surgeries to go well." She chuckled and dabbed at her cheeks with Arthur's house pants. "I guess it was like praying, which I never had use for." The slightest smile edging her lips, she turned to Patricia. "Let's go to Gotham Park and throw some rocks."

~~~~~

The next morning, eleven percent of her worries cast away by a currently sore right arm, Y/N walked past Sherwood Florist, a closet of a shop around the corner from her office. Storefront freshly washed, robust floral arrangements on display in large, spotless windows, and an owner in horn-rimmed glasses checking the temperature of the nearest cooler, she decided to stop in. Yes, the florist told her, an expression of dubious curiosity on his face. They delivered to Arkham. Just include the patient's full name and ward in the address, and it'd be sent this afternoon.

She chose a squat, plastic vase filled with daisies and a yellow enclosure card with a bumblebee in the lower left corner. A bit cutsie for her taste, but it was the only neutral choice among birthdays and congratulations. She pondered what to write, pushing back the urge to ask him to reach out. A minute later, she put her pen to the cardstock. "I miss you like thread misses a needle. (Good thing you're the comedian - that was terrible.) You're not alone in this. You have my whole heart. - Y/N."

~~~~~

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