#clocked out ate and finished these like something possessed me to do so

[spicyet]

Rejoice and forgive yuri edition.

bonus, psycho loser, yuri edition of course.

[spookywhumping]

16 with forced family please!!

16. “I love you.” “You love possessing me.”

(You know, I’ve never heard the phrase ‘forced family’ before, so I’m not quite sure if this is what you were expecting. But I thought the prompt fit Mocha and Lysander so I decided to write something with them ^-^)

It was raining outside, something that Lysander wasn’t too happy about. He’d been planning to go out into town, but apparently decided that it wasn’t worth the drive in this weather. As a result, he’d spent most of the day in bed, leaving Mocha to wander around the house on his own.

This wasn’t really a problem. It did leave Mocha feeling somewhat...listless, without anything to do. But Lysander could do whatever he wanted with his time. It wasn’t his place to say anything.

And yet...when the rain started to slow around eight o’clock, and when Mocha realized Lysander hadn’t come out of his bedroom since that morning, he started to worry. He thought it over for a while before deciding to go check on him. And then he immediately regretted that decision when his tentative knock on the bedroom door was met with an annoyed shout of “What?!”

Mocha shrank back, not sure if he should say anything after that. But it would probably be better to own up to what he did. “I-I was just wondering when you were going to have dinner, Master,” he said.

There was some grumbling from behind the door that he couldn’t quite make out. Then footsteps, and the door opened. Lysander stared down at Mocha. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll make you food.”

“O-oh, I was mostly worried about you,” Mocha said. “I-I don’t need to have dinner if it’s too much trouble.”

“Shut up, of course you do.” Lysander rubbed his eyes. He walked past Mocha, who was confused and not sure what to make of those words, and headed down the stairs. Mocha followed him after a moment.

‘Making food’ turned out to be ‘microwaving meals for five minutes.’ Mocha hovered on the edge of the kitchen entrance awkwardly as Lysander heated up two packages of instant noodles, handing one to him. They ate in silence in the dining room. After a while, Lysander said, “Do you...have to sit on the floor like that or is it just a you thing?”

“Do you want me to sit somewhere else?” Mocha asked, confused.

“Uh...I guess you can sit at the table.”

“Oh. At the table. Thank you, Master.” He hadn’t been expecting Lysander to be so...generous. In his experience, most people were upset when their pets sat at the table. But if Lysander said he could...well, it would look rude if he didn’t move.

They finished in silence. Lysander stood up, threw away the plastic noodles cups, and left the kitchen. Mocha followed him up the stairs and back into the bedroom, where Lysander instantly fell back into bed. After a moment, Mocha walked over, standing by the bedside. “Um...Master?” he said hesitantly. “Is something wrong? You usually don’t go to sleep for a few more hours. Is there anything I can do?”

Lysander’s face was buried in his pillow. He raised it slightly, looking at Mocha with his two different-shaded eyes. Then, without any warning, he grabbed Mocha by the arm and pulled.

Mocha yelped as he fell, landing on the bed next to Lysander. “U-um—”

“Shut,” Lysander mumbled. “I read your stupid manual. They said something about ‘cuddle chemicals’ in the brain. I just want to test it.”

“Um—o-okay.” Mocha wasn’t sure what else to say. This was something completely new; Lysander had never done this before. But maybe this could help with whatever...weird funk Lysander had been in all day. And Mocha was always happy to help.

Some time passed. Mocha didn’t know how much; he couldn’t see the bedside clock from here. Lysander stayed completely still as his breathing slowly evened out. After a while, Mocha wondered if he’d fallen asleep, and was debating whether or not he was allowed to leave. But then, Lysander mumbled something that he almost couldn’t hear. “I love you.”

Mocha froze. Then, before he could stop himself, he muttered, “You love possessing me.”

Lysander’s breathing shifted as his head raised. “What did you say?”

“Nothing!” Mocha hurriedly whisper-shouted. Why did he say that?! He couldn’t say that! Something like that—it was almost contradicting his owner, which meant it was almost against everything his training had done. He could never say anything like that. But he did anyway. He stayed, frozen, hoping that Lysander didn’t hear the words clearly.

A few seconds passed. Then Lysander’s head dropped back down again. “Same difference,” he mumbled.

What was that supposed to mean? Mocha almost wanted to ask, but...that would mean acknowledging that he’d said those words earlier. So, he didn’t say anything. Lysander fell asleep soon, though it was a while before Mocha did as well.

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 5

I have so many feelings about these two, Spills & Francis may be two idiot babies but they're my idiot babies and I LOVE them. Lots of yearning in this chapter, and maybe a different side to Claudia.👀

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Angst, yearning, 18+ language, mentions of alcohol / being drunk (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 4 Part 6 Playlist

---------------------

Age 18:

His truck was full.

He was driving, you were shotgun - like always - and there were three more friends in the back. The trunk held boogie boards and towels, sunscreen and a cooler full of food and drinks.

You got there early enough that you found a good spot and within half an hour you were completely set up. There were three big beach blankets spread out with two big umbrellas to hide under when the sun got too hot.

“Spills, can you get my back?” He was handing you the sunscreen as he pulled his shirt up.

You were momentarily taken aback, you’d known him for so long, this wasn’t your first beach trip but he looked… good.

You spent a little longer than you should have making sure every inch of the golden skin of his back and shoulders was covered in sunscreen. Making sure to dip your hands just under the band of his swim trunks. When he turned he had a big smile and you had to ignore the way your stomach flipped.

Get a grip, it’s just Francis.

You couldn’t get a grip though, not with the way butterflies swarmed in your stomach whenever you paid attention to him. His hair was growing out a bit, curling slightly at the edges. You’d never thought about him this way and you had to keep reminding yourself to look away.

Later on in the day when you were in the water you played the same games you’d played since you were kids and when you jumped on his back he didn’t push you away; his skin warm from the sun. Instead he let you wrap your legs around him and everything felt right.

“You okay back there?” He laughed as he held onto the back of your knees.

“Peachy.” You smiled as you held on.

-------------------------------

**Present Day**

“Hola Mijo, you better go in there and calm her down.” His mom greeted him at the door when he walked in, her eyebrows raised at him.

“Hola mami, what happened?” He kissed her on the cheek like he always did before making his way further into the house. She couldn’t say - just that Claudia was upset. He was walking towards her, but his mind was still back with Spills. He could still smell her hair as he made his way into the den.

It’s the same shampoo, she still uses the same shampoo. Focus Francisco.

Claudia was almost shouting into her cellphone.

“Well I need it here sooner than that. My wedding is in three weeks and I need everything to be perfect - so I don’t give a shit what you have to do to get my dress here in time but you better find a way to do it!” She was looking daggers at him and he let her finish the phone call before he spoke.

“What’s going on babe?” He put his hands on her arms and started trying to calm her but she shrugged out of his grasp.

“What’s wrong Francisco, is that I told you this would be difficult.” She wasn’t yelling but her tone was icy. “How am I supposed to get married without a wedding dress. Would have been fine if we were back home.”

Not this again.

“Claudia, I told you when we got engaged that I wanted to get married here and you agreed. I explained to you very clearly that I’ve been away from my home, my life, my family - my friends for years and I wanted to get married here. Now tell me what the problem is.” He wanted his feelings to be clear. He loved Claudia, he really did. She was sweet and beautiful and she treated him well. She could be a little spoiled though and if he didn’t put his foot down now, he’d never have a choice about anything ever again.

He would not live his life that way.

“Yes I know I agreed, and for the most part I’m okay with it. I know your whole life is here, but it would have been so easy to get married there.” She pouted and it didn’t invoke the feeling it should have. It didn’t spur him to try to please her, it annoyed him.

He momentarily thought about when Spills pouted up at him, it never annoyed him. He pushed the thought away.

“Maybe, but we’re not getting married there. We’re getting married here, now what can we do? Let's look for a solution.” He softened up at her a little bit, after all he wanted her to be happy.

She sighed loudly and put her arms around his neck, her voice got a little higher as she tried to appeal to him.

“Frankie, baby- I just want everything to be perfect.”

That doesn’t work on me.

“Let’s just try to have everything go smoothly. It’ll be our day regardless, right?” He put his hands on her waist to bring her close, trying to get her out of her head.

“How long do we have to stay here Francisco?” She leaned back to look up into his face and he sighed.

“We have to talk about that, after the wedding we’re going back to stay with your family for a little while but then we have to talk about where we’re going to live.” He held her, but she pulled away.

“I don’t want to live here after Francisco. I appreciate that you grew up here and everything and we can visit but I do not want to live here.” She crossed her arms petulantly, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. They’d spoken about this before and she had agreed to give it an honest try, but they’d been in town less than a week and already she was telling him she hated it.

“You can’t know that in three days babe.” He sat on the couch.

When they agreed to get married - he’d been scared of this, he’d been scared that she’d do this. He knew she loved him, and he loved her - as much as he could - but the look on her face when he’d put his foot down about spending this time at home should have told him everything.

She didn’t say anything, she sat with him and reluctantly agreed.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just miss home. I’ll give it another shot.” She sounded genuine and he wanted to believe that. “How was your night with Spills? Is she feeling better?” She smiled at him, putting her hand on his thigh and he placed his over hers. A silent truce.

“She’s doing much better, we ate dinner and watched a movie.” He held her hand as he spoke and she smiled at him.

“I’m glad to hear that - hopefully she doesn’t get that drunk at the wedding.” She laughed lightly.

He knew she didn’t mean it in a nasty way, but he bristled at her words.

“She was just nervous about meeting all of you, and even if she did it would be fine. Everyone gets drunk at weddings.” He tried not to sound defensive but she raised her eyebrows at him. “I just don’t want you to think that she’s a mess. She’s like a-” He couldn’t say sister, he’s never thought of her as a sister. She was so much more. “She’s just really important to me.”

“I know babe. I didn’t mean it like that, she seems sweet.” She smiled at him. She was still trying to get back in his good graces, taking his defensiveness as residual anger. Thankfully.

“We should plan something for all of us to do together. It could give us more time to bond.” He thought about it momentarily then agreed, he knew exactly what to plan.

------------

There was something playing on the TV, you caught vague flashes - people talking but you weren’t taking anything in. Your sweatshirt smelled like Frankie and all you wanted was to cuddle up to him. He had been so sturdy beside you, so strong and comfortable.

What the fuck is a wedding emergency?

The mature - adult part of your brain said she was a nice person and if Frankie was with her it was for a reason. Obviously he was happy with her or he wouldn’t be marrying her. Frankie had never been the kind of person to settle.

The other part of your brain, the jealous possessive part told you she was a bitch. She was ruining the life you’d planned out with Frankie. If he’d never met her you’d be together now, laughing and planning the rest of your lives together. He’d be in your bed, or you’d be in his.

[Francis]: Hey Spills, we’re planning a get together for the wedding party - day after tomorrow - beach day. I’ll be there to pick you up at 7am.

It was like the universe was testing you. How many memories could he taint with Claudia?

[you]: sounds good, Claudia, you, me and who else in rustbucket?

[Francis]: Just you and I, and don’t call her that. Claudia’s family is coming so she’s going to ride to the beach with them. I’ll grab coffee on the way. =)

[you]: Hope you have a new tape in there, if I have to listen to queen I’ll jump out of the car

[Francis]: lol a ride is a ride Spills, see you then

[Francis]: was really nice hanging out with you today btw, goodnight

[you]: I had a great time with you - like always, thanks again for all the food, goodnight Francis!

--------

It was easy to ignore everything when you were getting work done, you had taken off a few days when you knew Francis would be home and you were taking advantage of it. The day before your beach trip was used to do all those little tasks you tended to put off.

Your laundry was done, the kitchen was clean, even the fridge had gotten a bit of elbow grease. Everything was ready and packed for the trip.

You tried not to think about the ride to the beach with Francis, you tried not to think back to your previous trips to the beach with him. Those memories were so precious and thinking about how your next memory would be with him, and his new in-laws was tearing you up inside.

Please let this go well, please don’t let me make a fool of myself.

You hoped someone was listening.

The anxiety didn’t let you sleep and you watched the clock crawl closer to morning; it seemed pointless to lay there.

Might as well get ready.

-----

He wasn’t nervous, but he wasn’t excited.

He made his way over to her house, stopping to grab coffee on the way. He thought about his conversation with Claudia, about the possibility of leaving this place. He really didn’t want to. He wanted to be close to his mom, he wanted to be close to his friends and his home.

I want to be close to Spills, I want to see her everyday.

He scolded himself, he was going to marry someone else. He kept trying to remind himself, but when he saw her walking towards his car it all went out the window.

God Spills, you’re killing me.

She put her beach bag and a small cooler in the backseat and got into his truck with a big smile, pushing all other thoughts out of his mind. He handed her the coffee he bought and she took it gratefully, brushing against his fingers, even now - she affected him so much.

Snap out of it Francisco, you aren’t a teenager anymore. This is your friend.

“Hazelnut?” She asked as she smelled the steam floating around her pretty face.

“Of course.” He pulled away from her place, making his way towards the highway. It would be an hour or so until they got to the beach.

“Open up.” The buttery bagel half she put into his mouth as he drove tasted better than he remembered.

------

The drive was over much too soon.

If only it had lasted all day - catching him up on all the gossip he’d missed out on while away. Watching his excitement when he talked about flying, you could have listened to him talk forever.

“Finally!” Cheers rang out when the two of you arrived. The boys had set up a bunch of blankets and umbrellas and you suddenly remembered the state you’d been in the last time they saw you and you felt the blush creeping up.

Benny smiled big when he saw you, tapping the place beside him after you’d all said your hellos. You had no reason to deny him so you sat, setting up all your stuff within the space he made for you.

Blessedly, Claudia hadn’t arrived yet and you cherished this time without her, maybe it was mean - maybe it was selfish but you couldn't help it.

“Hey - Thanks for the other night, for getting me home and making sure I was okay.” Pope set up his stuff on the other side of you.

“No problem, glad to see you feeling better.” He was talking to you but you noticed him give Benny a curious look. Benny ignored it. You watched as Will and Frankie set up a volleyball net, you studied both men and there was no denying that Will was gorgeous; but your eyes were drawn to Frankie. You couldn’t help it, your eyes raked over him greedily.

He was so broad, stronger than he had been in his teen years and his belly had gotten a little softer with age but it suited him. He was gorgeous, he had always been gorgeous. He felt your eyes on him then and he smiled at you, walking over to you with the sunscreen in his hands like he always did. His smile faltered slightly when his gaze landed behind your place in the sand.

“Hey babe, how was the drive?” Claudia and her family had arrived and they were setting up just behind you.

Do you have some sort of alarm? How are you always ruining every single goddamn moment?

“It was hectic! Left a little later than I meant to but we survived.” She was breathless as she came to greet him. You busied yourself with something, anything in your bag to avoid watching them kiss. When you looked back she was squeezing sunscreen onto his back, rubbing the lotion much the same way you used to whenever you’d come to the beach together.

He didn’t meet your eyes when she did it, and you were thankful. You didn’t think you could handle seeing him enjoying her touch so much. Instead you focused on the people around you. You focused on Benny and Will and Pope, trying your best to ingratiate yourself to them. Hopefully erase the memory of you as a belligerent mess.

---

As the day went on you found that you liked these guys, not just as an extension of Francis - but because they were fun. They made you laugh, they spoke to you like they’d known you your whole life. They almost distracted you enough. You also noticed that Claudia was only here to lounge in the sun. She had absolutely no interest in getting in the water, no matter how many times she was asked by Frankie to join him.

He played it off like it didn’t bother him but you knew it did, and that in turn hurt you but your heart leapt when he turned to you.

“Spills, wanna come in the water with me?” He smiled and held out his hand and you gladly accepted. Following him in like you always had.

“Not much of a swimmer?” You couldn’t help but ask when the two of you were in the water.

“Not really, it’s a shame - the water's perfect today.” He floated, making sure to splash you and you waited until he was perfectly relaxed to splash him back. “God I love it here.” he spoke as he floated closer and closer.

“Me too. I want to live near the ocean one day.” You spoke absentmindedly, trying to feel for little shells or rocks as you walked further and further from the shore. He followed you.

You felt him splashing you from behind and you tackled him. The two of you turned into children in the water and it ended with you wrapped around his back like always. His hands on the back of your knees as you held on. You both watched the shore in silence, everyone too focused on whatever they were doing to notice your closeness and you were thankful for it. It made you hold on tighter, trying to get closer and he wrapped your legs around his tummy.

Maybe it was inappropriate, maybe if Claudia had been watching she would have had some words for him, or you, or both of you - but it didn’t stop you.

“Let’s just stay out here Spills. Let’s stay in the water forever.” He stroked the skin of your shins under the water and it was so hard not to cry right then and there. “Just you and me, living in the water.” He laughed but it came out sad.

“I’m game.” You rested your chin on his shoulder briefly and he bumped your head with his. This one little moment made the whole day worth it, and when he pulled away as you knew he would, your heart broke just a little bit more.

You were both wrong in your assumptions however. The moment you had thought was private, that you thought you’d stolen without anyone knowing had been seen and catalogued by someone on the shore. Pope had seen the whole thing, and he had some words for Francis.

--------------

Tag list: @frannyzooey @foli-vora @danniburgh @sambucky21 @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @softdindjxrin @wheresarizona @sherala007 @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @gaiuswrites @stevie75 @sweet-creature98 @readsalot73 @tobealostwanderer @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @goldielocks2004 @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @bellaorisa @hellovanessax

[binniesthighs]

ANON THIS WAS SO FUN.  Oh my gosh thank you so much for requesting this 😭

bites like bittersweet | reader x minho | 

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee minho 

Genre: that good good smut 

Tags: aphrodisiac au, switch!minho, switch!reader, mentions of food, oral (m recieving), unprotected sex (stay safe!), degredation, pet names, dirty talk, accidental exhibitionism 

Word count: 2.4k

“are you kidding me? I can’t believe that you actually spent money on this!! aren’t you just a tiny bit embarrassed?” 

“what? I thought that it would be fun to try!” 

“if this is your way of seducing me, I hate to tell you, but it isn’t going to work.” 

minho threw the chocolate bars back down on the coffee table. he was right;  they looked fake and you knew it. the giant logo on the front stared up at you and your skeptical friend. it was an obscenely large kiss mark with different icons of couples fucking for each flavor. you really should have had better judgement. right in front of you was $36 dollars that you would never be getting back. 

“and you had to get all the flavors?” 

your defeated arms rang themselves above your head. “what?? I wasn’t going to pass up mint, salted caramel and...what’s this called...yeah, cherri amore!” 

“and why is it again that you’re asking me to try these--” minho snatched up the flavor Salted Caramelicious in Milk Chocolate to read the label.  “--proven aphrodisiac and libido boosters?” 

“I dunno!! you were the only one around I guess...?” 

minho flicked up one of his eyebrows in his suspicion. “really? that’s why? I don’t believe you. you’re trying to get in my pants aren’t you?!” 

“no! Why the hell would I want to get in your pants?” 

“hmmm...dare I bring up the locker room incident from a couple summers ago?” sly as ever, minho punched your arm lightly. “i bet that you’ve been dreaming about it ever since then.” 

“-have not!! you’re ridiculous.” you gifted him a punch back, but this one wasn’t nearly as joking. 

minho rubbed at his arm with a dramatic little “ow” on his lips. 

“I’m bored, you don’t have anything else to do, it’s probably a scam and I don’t feel like wasting my $36.” 

for a moment, minho pondered in silence as you dished him out your best puppy-dog eyes. in all your years of friendship, there was nothing that did him in better than the way you could make your eyes glisten. “that should be illegal” he would gripe. 

“Pleeeese?? ~I know that you like mint chocolate~” you waved the bar gratuitously in front of his nose. 

“fine.” he clawed it from your grasp. “i’m sure that it’s gonna be shitty chocolate anyway.” minho’s fingers hastily tore at the little foil edges and wrappings then cracked it in his hand. 

you teased him, “should I get us some wine to go with this chocolate?” 

minho scoffed and popped a couple chunks in his mouth. “fuck, this is so waxy. I hate you for this.” 

~💋~ 

to your right, your wall clock ticked on as late as it was into the night. you hadn’t expected yourself to get so sleepy, but you and minho had made up the couch into your usual mess of pillows and blankets that would often accompany movie nights. after a while, the two of you had decided to just let netflix autoplay each episode, not really caring that you weren’t quite watching anymore. 

“--you feeling anything?” you asked minho for the hundredth time. 

“...no; its same answer from the last fifty times that you asked me. like I said, it’s a scam. you were swindled. just admit it.” 

“...I don’t think I’m feeling anything either.” 

“we ate the shitty chocolate, and that was that.” minho huffed. “god, you owe me big time.” 

“isn’t it supposed to take a second to kick in...? isn’t that how these things work?” 

“hell if I know.” 

your friend sighed out the same unimpressed sigh he had been repeating for the last 45 minutes or so. he sat up a little straighter upon his realization. 

“wait...so you’re saying that you want me to get turned on???” 

“ah-no!!! don’t misunderstand!! it’s not that I want you to get turned on, i just want to know if it’s a scam or not. you know...for science?” 

“for science? since when was science a part of all this?” 

“i-it always was!” 

“let’s just...finish watching this episode or two and then you’re leaving, got it?

you nodded, “got it!” 

around your shoulder, minho snaked his arm to rest it gently, leaning you into him just a little. this place had always been your favorite spot. nuzzled into him like this, you could nearly hear his heartbeat in his chest. with the tv droning and the muffled “boom-boom” of his heart, you were drawn to sleep with ease, however, as you drifted, there was something different about the pace in which his heart would usually beat close to you. 

~💋~

at first, you were woken by the sound of explosions. in the time that minho had promised, “this episode or two,” netflix had already made it’s way to playing a movie. strangely enough, minho hadn’t bothered changing it; it was his least favorite kind: the kind with car chases and missiles and the end of the world. 

secondly, you were awoken by his voice, urgent and shallow. 

“hey. hey. get up. y/n, get your heavy-ass head off me.” 

“wha-what is it? what time is it? what is this?” you rubbed your blurry vision away with your palms. 

“I...” minho choked down a thick gulp. “I-I think that I’m feeling...something...” 

“what?!” your head snapped to look him in his terrified widened eyes. normally he would make fun of the rat’s nest on your head, but this time, his eyes remained unmoving. 

mortified, minho uttered out again, “I feel...something...” 

“something what? spit it out!!” 

“don’t you dare look but...oh god...” your friend choked in an inhale. 

he didn’t need to finish his sentence before your eyes had drifted down to where the spiderman themed blanket covered his lap. sure enough, he tented the fabric in the most obvious way. 

“shit-this is so embarrassing.” minho steadied his breaths then winced “it kinda...hurts.” 

this time, your eyes widened. “hurts?” 

“yeah it does, okay???? don’t fucking rub it in.” 

you found yourself getting defensive, “well what the hell do we do now???” 

“I don’t know!!!” minho yelled into the dark room incredulously. 

“can’t you just...I don’t know...jerk it away??? ” 

“right here???” 

“NO like in the bathroom or something I mean!!!” 

“greaaat, you broke my dick!! and you’re being of no help at all!” 

“well what would you have be do then huh? suck it off for ya right here and now?? would that be sooooo helpful to you??”

in your frustration, you tore spiderman off of his lap, then there it was: in its full glory. 

yes, the locker room incident had lingered on your mind from time to time but.. you certainly didn’t remember it looking like that. 

in your whole life, you never would have guessed that the thought, “thank-you-god for-blessing-us-with-the-invention of-grey-sweatpants” would grace your stream of consciousness but...here you were. 

“m-minho...I-I think that it’s effecting me too.” your eyes ogled his member: lusciously thick and long, practically fighting the pants that kept it in. it bulged in his pants gorgeously and he had even wet himself a little from his leaking pre-cum.

“Huh!?” 

“wow.” you marveled. 

you really don’t know why you had done it, but suddenly the entire room felt much hotter, and taking off your shirt made much more sense so, you did.

“what the hell are you doing?!” minho attempted to pull up a blanket to cover your chest. 

“does it really hurt?” something must have possessed you: your voice had dropped several octaves and you felt yourself breathing out the words with air. 

as soon as he had heard your voice change, it was like he was enchanted. “A-a little. ‘feels really...trapped.” minho ate up the way that your eyes raked over his hard-on. 

“oooh does it?” you used your index and ring finger to walk your hand over to his thigh where you then grabbed at him in starving handfuls. his muscles felt so beautiful in your hands. 

minho whimpered out the whiniest, most desperate little sound that he could manage as his closed eyelids fluttered. there was no way in this world that you could ever imagine him making such a noise, especially from your touch. 

yeah, you might have dreamt about it a couple times or more. 

your hand tranced the outline of his dick on his pants. 

“oh-shit--” minho keened under your touch, jerking his body viciously. 

“god, you’re fucking gorgeous when you’re hard.” the words left your lips unapologetically and by seeing the way that minho practically melted from the compliment, you felt your whole body swell with that same aching pain. 

“--tou-touch--” 

your hand gave minho’s cock one good hard squeeze and he grunted out so loudly that you were fearful it could have been heard from the next apartment over. shaky breaths trembled from his lips and he rutted into your hand. 

“‘hurts so, so bad.” 

you almost missed it, but single tears fell from both of his eyes. 

“what do you want me to do about it?” 

exasperated, minho threw his head into the crook of your neck, panting, “an-anything. but--I-want your mouth. please...” 

“of course.” you cooed, then snuck your hand under the elastic of his pants, getting another squeeze in. his eyes had glared at your lips long enough, so you decided to grant them their wish. you practically threw your whole weight into him, knocking both of your balances away as you rushed your lips into his. both of your mouths were hot and insatiable: your sloppy kisses were an utter mess: and you had never used so much tongue before in your life. wet kissing sounds filled the space between you both and tangled up with your shameless moans. 

in your own pants, the situation wasn’t much different, but your desire to utterly destroy your needy friend was overwhelming and you could ignore it for a couple seconds more. 

minho rose his hips for you pull his briefs and pants off, then sat back down to display his cock, red, veiny and dripping. your mouth salivated just thinking about how amazing it would feel in your mouth. 

your friend didn’t give you much time to think before he had pulled your head nearer to him, then tapped his tip on your lips. 

“shouldn’t I tease you first? whatever happened to foreplay?” you licked his length up and down. 

“just--I don't care about that, I’m ready now,--fucking--please, please, I’m begging you to take me in your mouth. 

“~ahhhh~ you’re so cute when you beg.” 

minho’s full length was nearly too much for you to handle, but regardless, you swallowed him down using every ounce of your skill. the way that he moaned for you sounded so pathetic and needy, but he only pushed your head down farther. 

“my little cockslut” minho gasped, “taking me in so good with that pretty mouth of yours...you’re so amazing, it’s so...mmph...just like...I always dreamed it would be...” 

he threw his head back to guffaw at himself. “I can’t believe that this is happening.”

“quit talking and let me hear more of those pretty moans of yours.” you demanded of him, switching to jerk him up and down with your hand. your own saliva coated each and every one of your fingers.  

“gonna...make me cum!” minho’s fingers dug into the edge of the sofa. “can-can I?” 

“no.” you answered with a devilish smile. “you’re not gonna let me have any fun?” 

“sorry, sorry...what do you want from me now?” 

you continued jerking him once you had crept your lips up his body, kissing up his chest and stomach. your thumb played with his slit, eliciting even more pre-cum to come dripping out of his adorable tip. you reached his mouth where you let him get a taste. 

just as before, the sofa started feeling too stuffy and warm for you, so your frazzled brain searched the room for the next best place, and there really was only one other. 

“come with me,” you circled minho in your arms, pulling you both down to carpeted floor, taking a couple blankets with you as they tied in your limbs. “fuck me into the ground minho.” 

a fire lit behind minho’s soft brown eyes that you had never seen, and soon he had ridded you of all of your own clothes. 

“oh kitten, there's nothing that I would love to do to you more.” 

for mere moments, yours and minho’s bodies lingered, pressed flush against each other as both of your hips grinded together seeking some kind of relief and your mouths searched for hungry answers. 

“be a good boy for me minho,” you whispered into him, “fuck me so hard I’m dizzy, hmm?” 

“if you insist...” minho buried his head into your neck to bite into the skin, no doubt leaving marks for you later. 

everything reached a certain symphonic climax once he guided himself into your entrance which was nearly twitching to be filled by him. his length and girth stretched you out perfectly, and soon you knew it wouldn’t take too much for him to show you all the stars in the galaxy behind your eyelids. 

he thrust into you with feral sounding grunts, and your back burned a little against the carpet under you. 

“don’t-don’t stop...mmm--” 

body ablaze, the beginnings of your orgasm start to build in your core, begging for more and more. deep inside you, minho grazed your euphoric spot and you moaned out his name with reckless abandon. 

“say it louder for me baby.” your friend would greedily command, adoring the way that his name would bounce off the walls. 

“I’m close, god, minho--” 

ding-ding-ding! 

had you not been cumming with a searing white heat with minho jerking himself wildly over your stomach, you would have seen chan open the door, pretending to sneak his way in. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?” chan threw his arms over his eyes. “...AND IN THE OPEN LIVING ROOM???” 

“ch-chan?” minho threw the blankets over both of your gasping bodies, still recovering from your orgasms of seconds ago. 

“ I...oh my god.” chan shielded his eyes the whole walk to his room. 

“I’m sorry!!” Minho called after him, eyes then falling to his white painting on your stomach. “hmm. that looks kinda nice.” 

~💋~

later, when you would be cleaning up, chan would discover your litter of half eaten bars of chocolate, then would turn them over to laugh in your face: 

“uhhhh guys...you know that those are a placebo right?” 

[babbushka]

Omg “Really? You wanna have sex….here? Now?” and “I may or may not have left some….marks.” has suck biker!Kylo vibes. Love everything you write so I can't wait to see everything you bless us with this May

Anonymous said:  Ohhh, what about Biker gang!Kylo w/ possessiveness, marking and "Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me." I always get so excited for Sinday and all the fabulous writing you create. Ahhhh

2k, NSFW (big dom!Kylo, frottage at the mechanic shop, praise kink, oral fixation, finger sucking, fingering, spit as lube)

It takes him all of two seconds to recognize the look in your eye, when you come walking into his office at the shop for Kylo’s lunch hour. You’ve brought him takeout from his favorite deli, a big hero with all the fixin’s on it, and you’re right on time.

Kylo’s stomach growls, but he’s got a bad feeling that he won’t have much time to eat his lunch, because you’re smiling at him, a pep in your step, eager anticipation written all over your face you sit yourself down on top of his desk, greeting him with a cheeky sing-songy, “Hellooo honey!”

“Really? You wanna have sex….here? Now?” Kylo folds his arms over his chest, looking you up and down, admiring your choice of outfit.

You always knew how to get him good, with your short skirt and low-cut top, covered up and yet revealing at the same time.

He’s going to give you what he wants, because he always will -- but he’s going to make you work for it, just a little.

“Please?” You bat your lashes at him, hope high in your chest.

You’ve been thinking about him all day, have been wanting him ever since he ate you out for breakfast before heading off to work. You weren’t always able to visit him during his lunch hour, but today you tried extra hard to make it happen -- you had gotten a taste of his pleasure and you weren’t finished yet.

Which is why you’re wearing what you’re wearing, hoping it’ll catch his eye and get him in the mood, seeing your tits practically spill out of your top, especially when you arch your back ever so slightly, pushing them out purposefully.

“I’m busy.” Kylo raises a defiant eyebrow, and you bite away a smile, knowing this game all too well.

“Then take a break.” You counter , and he glares, muscles in his jaw working tight.

His eyes rove over your body, stopping at the hem of your skirt. You’ve got your legs crossed, ankles swinging over the edge of his desk, and he can see straight through the little gap that you’re not wearing underwear. Another little move that you hope he’ll appreciate, such a sucker for easy access, you uncross your legs and re-cross them, giving him a flash of your pussy.

“You’re being a real fuckin’ brat right about now, you know.” Kylo’s ears start to turn red, and you grin, because that means he’s getting hard.

“Yeah but you like it.” Reaching out to caress his cheek, you lean forward to ghost a kiss over his mouth and twirl a lock of his hair around your finger, silky and soft from the shower that morning, “Don’t you? You like that I give you a run for your money.”

“Get over here.” He snaps his fingers, and you can barely contain your excitement at the instruction, hopping off the desk and instead sitting sideways on his lap.

Kylo recently renovated the shop during the winter slow season, and now his office was bigger than ever -- and all his own. He used to share it with the general manager, Gwen, which made things considerably more tricky in terms of when he was alone and could fuck you. But Gwen had her own office now, and Kylo’s door is locked, and you moan softly when he taps his blunt nails against your lower lip with a scowl.

"Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me." He orders, a pleased hum rising out of his throat when you open your mouth just wide enough for him to push them past your teeth, rubbing them against your tongue with a deep, “Atta’girl.”

You take your time, savoring the feel of the fingers in your mouth. They’re so big, two of them alone feels like too much, and you have to really keep your jaw open when he forces in a third. He’s wearing all his rings, they leave a metallic sort of taste in your mouth that has you moaning, your hands wrapping around his thick wrist to hold him in place.

Kylo loved watching you suck on him, whether it’s his cock his tongue his fingers, all of it makes his dick throb, and while you lap your tongue over his digits, you can hear the familiar jingling sound of his belt, of his groans. Sighing and whining, your thighs rub together, pussy wet from the anticipation, as he shifts you around to get a better angle.

“Are you gonna fuck me with your cock?” You peer up at him, kissing and drooling all over his fingers and palm, slicking him up. Not that you need it, you’re wet enough as it is, you just like to do what he says, you like when he’s happy that you’ve done a good job.

“Not today sweets, you’ll get my fingers or you don’t get anything at all.” He grunts, pulling his hand away from you, “I’ve got a big meeting today, I have to be sharp. Can’t be all fucked up from coming in this tight cunt.”

The belt must be just for comfort then, and even though it’s a little disappointing, you know he’s got a good reason.

“That’s okay, your fingers are more than enough for me.” You smile, lips swollen and tingling from all their hard work.

Kylo kisses you then, wanting his lips on yours, wanting to taste your spit straight from your mouth. You were chewing gum on your way over, and he can tell, the fruity flavor a reminder that you’re sunshine in a bottle, with the way you’re so good.

Kissing Kylo is one of your favorite pastimes, you could do it all day. There’s only about forty-five minutes left on his break, but you could do it for that whole time if he lets you. Maybe he will, you think, when his soaked hand nudges between your thighs, your own spit smearing on your skin as he pries your legs open.

“Such a good slut you are, look at this, not even wearing any panties.” He smacks your pussy lightly, making you suck in a breath and frown at him, as he continues, “Shouldn’t be going around town like a whore with this short skirt and no panties, someone could see how well fucked my girl is. What were you going to do if I came in you? Walk around with it dripping down your fucking thighs?”

“Yeah, and what about it?” You challenge, grinding your hips down against his palm, your hands clutching at his chest, trying to spread your legs wider as his fingers skim across your folds, not really giving as much pressure as you need.

“You’re so spoiled.” Is all Kylo can manage, before he’s plunging in the first two fingers, pushing them straight up into your cunt, making your grin drop open into the most pretty O.

If Kylo’s fingers felt big in your mouth, they feel huge in your pussy, thrusting up against your walls, stretching you. You don’t even bother to hide how good it feels, your head rolling back, pushing your chest into Kylo’s face, a silent demand that he anchor himself to you while you undulate on his lap.

He takes the hint, and latches his mouth to your cleavage, to the flesh that’s spilling out of your tight shirt. He moves up your neck, suckles there, eyes shutting closed as he focuses on pushing your slick back into your body where it drips onto his palm.

“Mm, Kylo,” You moan, your eyes shut too, savoring the feeling of his thumb on your clit, rubbing harsh circles in tandem with the fingers that crook against your front walls, searching for your gspot. “Another? I can take it, give me another.”

“Bossy.” Kylo grunts against your throat, biting sucking licking at the sweat that starts to bead there as you try your best to rock onto his hand.

You don’t have to respond to that, because he’s shoving that third soaked finger up into you too, stretching you further. It’s not as much as his cock would, but that’s because his cock is fucking huge -- huge and throbbing against his stomach where it’s wedged between your bodies.

“Oh --!” You yelp, when the third finger finally finds the spot that Kylo was searching for, but he quickly grabs your jaw with his other hand that’s been holding the back of your neck steady.

“I’m going to need you to be quiet for me sweets,” Kylo kisses your throat as he warns you, pushing and moving your face from the grip on your jaw he’s got to expose a broad expanse of your neck to him, “There’s shop boys and customers just outside this door, and I don’t want them knowing what we get up to in here.”

“Right there honey, oh fuck that’s good -- sorry sorry, I’ll be quiet.” You apologize around little moans and whimpers, the harsh grip of his hand on your jaw a reminder of just how strong he can be.

Your pussy clenches and throbs around those fingers as they thrust in and out of you, hitting that spot over and over again, fucking you rough and fast because there’s not much time now, not much time at all and you can feel the hot licks of pleasure traveling up your spine, starting to crest when he returns his thumb to your clit.

“I’m coming, fuck fuck -- oh!” You give him virtually no warning, but he doesn’t care, you’re positioned in a way that your come is only going to soak into the fabric of your skirt, it won’t get on his jeans.

Your orgasm hits strong at first, and then settles into something pleasant and warm. Eyeing the clock, you’re glad to see that there’s still ten minutes left on his lunch break, enough of a chance for him to eat something, even as your bones and muscles have turned to jell-o. Kylo’s face has gone red again though, and you quirk a brow at him, tucking some of his hair behind his ears, asking, “What’s the matter?”

“I may or may not have left some….marks.” Your man doesn’t often look sheepish, but he looks like it now, biting on his lip as he surveys the damage that he’s done to your pretty skin.

Fumbling around in your purse that’s sitting on his desk, you find your compact mirror and hold it up, letting out a blissful laugh when you see just how many fucking marks he’s left.

“So much for keeping things discreet.” You roll your eyes, and he only pinches your thigh for the comment, helping to stand you up on your feet without wobbling. You want to offer to jerk him off or something, but there’s no time right now, and the both of you know it. You’ve been enough of a distraction as it is, so you embrace him one final time, kissing him with a happy sigh, “Good luck with your meeting, I’ll see you later?”

“Here, take my jacket. It’ll cover you up.” He pulls the heavy leather riding jacket off of the back of one of the chairs in the office, and bundles you up in it. The arms are a little too long because he’s so tall, and the shoulders are too wide because he’s so broad, but you feel safe and warm inside it.

“Kylo Ren, giving me your jacket? Does this mean we’re goin’ steady?” You tease him, before bolting when he starts chasing after you, thinking that there was no way in hell was he going to get around to having that damn sandwich.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging some Kylo lovin' friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @lovinghufflepuffgirl @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here

[aeoncryptic]

Rain Leads to Sunshine

Genre (?): Fluff~! I mainly write fluff.

Word count: 3287

Pairing: Vincent x MC

Warning: Apparently I’m told it’s a little angsty and a little sad. @-@

She couldn’t contain her tears any longer; They fell like a heavy rainstorm on her pillow. She couldn’t forget her home, no matter how hard she tried. Trapped here in another time, another place, she was trying to make the best of it all. She chose to work as a maid here in a mansion of vampires. Most would laugh if they’d heard her say so, for vampires were a thing of dreams! Others would wonder if she had lost her mind. A human working for vampires? What would possess one to do such a thing? She thought they would ask. But these vampires - No, these men were good people! They all cared about her and wanted nothing more than to see her smile. She could not hold a smile forever, though.

And so the rain fell, heavy from her eyes, drenching her pillow. But tomorrow, she will smile again. She will conceal her sorrow again. Her decision had been made by her adoration for the beings she served. Going back home would mean never seeing them again, but staying meant never seeing her family again.

A knock to her door caused her to attempt to quiet her sobbing. She set her feet to the floor, and with hesitation, she slowly got up from her bed and trudged her way to the door. Hastily, she wiped the tears from her face and forced a smile. Her shaking hands reached for the door knob, unlocked it slowly and opened it slightly.

What greeted her were two sky blue eyes. Vincent stood there with a concerned expression. “(MC), are you alright? May I come in?” She hesitated for a moment before opening the door wider to allow him inside. He graced her with his signature angelic smile, one that made her heart skip a beat. Once he passed her and the door was closed, she walked to her bed and took a seat. He resisted the urge to catch her as she walked by, desperation to make her usual glow return was eating away at him. The fear of upsetting her more, too, ate at him. The fluffy comforter of the bed poofing a bit as she sat, her fingers smoothing out the ruffles and giving the blanket a gentle pat. A silent command for him to take the spot beside her, to which he obeyed.

Though she refused to look at his face, she knew he wore a look of concern. He tried to hide it behind that angelic face, that was always so kind. It hurt her, sometimes, how kind he could be. With a glance at his face, she donned a smile and asked, “Is there anything I can help you with, Vincent?” Her emerald eyes still held the shimmer of tears, dark circles from her lack of sleep, and the pink streaks down her face marking her sorrow. Try and try as he might, he could not keep control of the torrent of emotions that battered at the dam, the flood finally freeing itself. He reached a hand up to gently caress her cheek; he needed to comfort her.

He pulled her tight into his arms, trying to hold back his own tears. “What’s hurt you, (MC)? What can I do to make it better?” His blonde hair brushed against her neck as he buried his face there, hoping his voice didn’t shake. Would she be okay with him comforting her? What if she got upset? He shouldn’t touch her without her permission, he knew, but the signs were obvious that she was miserable. His intentions weren’t to disrespect her; perhaps she could forgive him.

The corners of her lips slowly dropped down, her arms wrapping around him to return his hug. She placed the palm of her hand on his broad back, tracing soothing circles in an attempt to sway his worries. “I’m alright, Vincent. I just miss home a little. Ah! But it’s not that I wish to go home. I love it here with all of you!” She rushed the last part past her lips, concerned he might misunderstand her. His shoulders finally relaxed, however his muscles still held that tension.

An idea slowly sliding into his mind. Something that he could do for her; that only HE could do for her. Lifting his head, he slowly leaned back up and took his handkerchief out of his pocket to gently wipe the tear streaks from her face. She offered him another shakey smile, to which he smiled back. “If it’d help, you could tell me about your life before coming to the mansion?” Her hesitation was evident in the way her smile faltered, in the way her eyes shifted towards her lap, the way her hand moved to brush her hair behind her ear.

“If… If it isn’t too much of a bother. I would hate to take up your time, Vincent.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his cerulean gaze, where she could see his desire to offer her an ear. The longer she took Vincent away from his paintings, the more upset Theo would be; She was bound for a lecture tomorrow. But those pleading puppy eyes always got to her heart. In an attempt to calm her racing heart, she looked back at her lap once again.

“(MC), you could never bother me.” His hand gently reached up under her chin, encouraging her to look back into his eyes, her blush not escaping notice. “I truly wish to hear about your home, your family, your time period.” She could almost see a halo over his head with the kindness in his request.

She began her tale. Vincent listened, enraptured with how differently she described her world from this one, the longing evident in how her voice shook. Whenever he had a question, she would patiently answer his inquiries. He needed to know what these horseless carriages were, what the tall buildings in her city looked like, and even what ‘neon lights’ were. It was all foreign to him and though most of it passed in one ear and out the other, he was trying to keep up. He admitted defeat in completely understanding.

One day, he would get to see all of this, she thought sadly. He would get to see all of this, but never again would she be able to. Another cold realization crawled through her fingertips, causing goosebumps to appear on her arms. Noticing this, Vincent gently rubbed her arms between his hands. “Are you cold?” His hands slid from her arms and reached up, grasping the edges of his own jacket as he pulled it off. With a gentle shift of air, he laid the jacket across her shoulders and pulled it tight around her. “It is a bit chilly here.” Once he was satisfied that his jacket would keep her warm, he stood up from the bed. “I’m sorry I kept you awake for so long… I’ll head back to my room. If you need someone to talk to, my door is always open.” Her lips twitched into a tired smile as she thanked him for his kindness.

Vincent’s blonde hair swished as he turned towards the door and strode out in search for the butler, Sebastian. Curiosity and a burning idea spread throughout his mind like wildfire. He knew that as soon as he left the room, his flower would return to the state she was in before he knocked upon her door. The desperation to make her smile ate away at him, tearing its claws through his heart, almost bringing him to tears. He clutched at his scarf, his only comfort in this moment. He could only hope that his jacket provided her the same comfort.

His steps echoed through the empty hallways as he made for the kitchen, knowing Sebas would still be awake making preparations for tomorrow's breakfast and checking what ingredients he would need to get. He hesitated upon reaching the door; he disliked bothering others. What if Sebas was really busy and asking questions would set him behind? Vincent’s eyes lowered to the floor, his blonde bangs casting a shadow over his eyes. The young man was tempted to turn away from the door, but he shook that thought away and confidently pushed the door open. No. I shouldn’t think like that! I would do anything for (MC).

Sebastian had his back to the door, his hands steadily chopping away at the vegetables before him. Vincent’s fears returned for a moment, bubbling near the surface and almost washing away his idea. “Sebas, may I have a moment of your time?”

The butler’s head turned to see the older Van Gogh brother standing by the table with his calm smile and gentle eyes. “Of course. What can I do for you, Master Vincent?” Setting the knife down, Sebastian moved to the sink and began washing his hands. “I’ve already finished everything for the day and was simply preparing for tomorrow.” He smiled at Vincent as he finished cleaning his hands and dried them off.

Feeling a little bit reassured that he wasn’t disturbing the butler, he decided to ask, “I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about your and (MC)’s time, the 21st century?” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes softening a little as he thought about her again.

Sebastian’s lips tugged into a smile; Vincent was concerned by the expression. “I’ll give you all the information you could ever want. But I would like to know why you’re so curious this late at night?” Sebas’ grey eyes glanced at the clock, the hands pointing out that it was just past midnight.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. His lips drew into a thin line, his eyes downcast, his shoulders slumped. Vincent knew rumors got around quickly in the mansion. He wouldn’t know how long the painting would take him, but she might awaken before him to work. Sebastian was their ‘butler’ and also a friend. Talking to him about the project shouldn’t be a problem. However, Vincent’s heart told him he only wanted (MC) to know about it; Only her. “I… Want to better understand (MC).” It wasn’t a lie, he told himself, not completely. The butler’s gaze seemed to see through him, but Vincent still held his smile.

His blood was pumping from the excitement as he rushed to his room following the butler’s explanation. Vincent hardly ever rushed, but tonight he needed to get this painting to her as fast as he could.

With emotions running high, Vincent began painting. His brush glided across the canvas as if trying to keep up with his thoughts. He had been unable to confess his feelings to her before, but was hoping that with this one painting he could convey to her that he loved her. He hoped that he could rid her of the sorrows that enveloped her when the sun went down. She had given up everything to stay here, in this time period, with all of them. He had heard her loneliness as she cried in her room, felt it as he held her, understood it when she told him about her home. They could never replace it, never give it back to her. She was trapped here. But he wanted to give her the world. Wanted to see her smile.

His brush moved, no longer was he in control as his heart carried him away. It was like waves crashing against the boat, any second it could tip. The older Van Gogh was lost in his desire to please the woman that awoke these emotions from their deep slumber. He took each memory she had given him, each thing she carved so painstakingly in his mind, and placed it as best he could in his little world. Hoping this would show her how much he needed her to smile, he put as much into this painting as he could.

So enveloped in his love for her was he, that when the door opened wider, he didn’t hear it. When his brother gasped upon seeing the artwork, it went into one ear and out the other. Even as his brother drew closer to get a better view, his hand didn’t stop. The intricate work was dazzling to Theo’s eyes.

Five circular pieces were spread out on the painting, two on the left, two on the right, and one perfectly in the center of the four. The empty space around these bubble shapes was filled with night sky and stars which swirled around and became clusters around the middle orb. The circle on the top left held buildings that were close together, some were tall and some were short. The one below held what appeared to be words glowing on a building. The far right ones held a forest with a carriage before it and a field of sunflowers facing the sun. But what captivated Theo, was the middle orb. The stars swirled around it drew his eyes to Vincent and (MC) laughing together. Her facing the left, while he faced the right of the painting.

The younger Van Gogh simply stood before the painting. The painter’s brush started to slowly come to a halt once the last star was perfectly placed. With shaking hands, he set the paintbrush down and picked up a towel to clean his hands. “Broer… This is the best painting I’ve seen you make…” Upon hearing Theo’s voice, Vincent turned and looked at his little brother in surprise.

“Theo, when did you come in?” Contrary to his concerned question, Vincent looked sheepish. “I was hoping (MC) would be the first to see it.” His heart swelling with love, he turned back to the painting. He knew that once she saw this painting that she’d know how he felt about her. It was a nerve wracking feeling. The feeling of electricity running up his arms, almost causing him to shudder. Theo stood there, his eyes searching his older brother’s face. He had known for a while that Vincent’s emotions were opening up again because of (MC), but he hadn’t known how deeply his brother felt for her.

Vincent watched as Theo slowly lifted his hand to run it through his auburn hair. “It’s almost morning, broer. Were you working on this all night?” Glancing towards the window, the older brother gasped now realizing that he had stayed up the entire night.

Lethargy washed over him like water now that his painting was finished. The sensation began at his fingertips and flowed through the rest of his body. “I was too energized to sleep. I had this idea and it wouldn’t leave my mind.” He had known that if his little brother had caught him awake, he’d be concerned. He also knew it would be hard to dissuade his brother's concern. “I’ll rest a bit after I wash up.”

With a heavy sigh, Theo agreed with Vincent. “I’ll put away your supplies, broer. You go get cleaned up. The faster you rest, the less you’ll have hondje wait, yeah?” After his older brother thanked him and left the room, Theo stared at the painting once more. His heart felt heavy and fear weighed upon him. The fear that he was losing Vincent again. Would she take him away? Would they go where he couldn’t follow? Fear dug its nasty claws in him, but Theo did what he always did. He continued on.

The sun had climbed high into the sky, no longer glaring through Vincent’s window. Being used to the bright light washing through his room, he had continued sleeping soundly. Even when his brother had stopped by before he left for work, the artist did not wake. Knowing his brother would be upset to have slept in, Theo still chose to let him continue in his slumber. Only when lunchtime had come and gone did he open his eyes. The thirst caused him to rise from his bed.

Excitement pulsed through him as he dressed himself. Not only was he going to hand her this painting, but he would hand her his heart. He would give it to her openly, willingly. And although he was terrified of the thought that she would cast it aside, he needed to know her answer. With an aching heart, he pushed his door open and made his way towards the dining room. Towards the love of his life.

Each step felt heavy as his feet touched the ground, his pace quicker than normal. As soon as his eyes landed upon her, his heart skipped a beat. Lunch had just ended and the young maid was picking up the plates and silverware, no sign of last night's burdens upon her face. “Goedemorgen, (MC).” His lips tugged into a brighter smile than usual. A feeling he was no longer unaccustomed to.

She turned to face him and graced him with a bright smile of her own. This smile was one that she reserved for him. A smile that only he knew, just as her tears last night were only known to him. “Goedemorgen, Vincent. Theo said you stayed up working on another painting last night.” Her smile tightened into a look of worry. “You should be careful. Did you get enough sleep?”

After reassuring her that he had, he gently reached forward and held her hand in both of his. “(MC), I’d like to show you what I was working on. Will you come look at it?” He looked right into her eyes, his expression that of a sad puppy. She giggled, a sound that made him beam, and agreed to go with him.

A gentle gasp left her lips as he opened the door and her eyes fell upon the painting. Vincent's eyes followed her as she slowly walked towards his latest masterpiece. A sinking feeling bubbled in him as he heard her sniffling. He walked to her as fast as he could and pulled her to him, enveloping her in his arms. “I’m sorry, (MC)... I didn’t mean to make you cry.” His hand left her back to gently cup her face and wipe away her tears.

Realizing that Vincent misunderstood her tears, she shook her head trying to regain her thoughts and brush away his fears. “No, Vincent. I’m just… I'm so happy. Thank you.” Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she nuzzled her face into his chest. “Thank you so much, Vincent.”

He pulled away from her slightly, causing her to look up at him again. “(MC)... I-” The fear welled up again, rearing its head. He pushed it down, shoving it back into a corner. “I love you.” As soon as the words left his lips, surprise showed on her face. “I love you so much that it hurts that I can’t protect you when this happens. I wanted to do something to make you feel better.”

More tears spilled down her face, as she grinned up at him. “Oh, Vincent… I love you too.”

No, she wouldn’t contain her tears any longer. They fell like rain on a sunny day. A happy feeling spread through her, knowing she could lean on him; knowing she could turn to him if she ever had any fears or doubts. She could never forget her home, but now she had a new family. People she could rely on. This feeling of happiness bursting through them both. An emotion too much for them to contain. His lips descended upon hers and they clung to each other, almost desperate to share their love for each other. Seeking comfort in each other's hold.

[rhysismydaddy]

After Midnight pt. 5 (Feysand)

Woooo it’s done :) Sorry it took an ~insane~ amount of time. Most the time I’m not this shitty with updating fics, but it’s been a really weird, hectic couple of weeks. Thanks for being patient and reading!

_______________________________________________________

~Feyre~

Honestly, I don’t know why I’m being so dramatic about this. 

I knew it had to end at some point. I just didn’t expect to feel... regret.

I don’t regret anything that happened that night, or even the fact that I’d vastly overstepped my boundaries and paid for his cousin’s treatment. 

That isn’t where the regret stems. 

It comes from the fact that I left in the first place. 

Six days after we were together, my skin still tingles whenever I think about his touch, the raw possession in his hands that somehow still managed to be gentle. I shiver whenever I think of his mouth on mine, his smile against my lips. 

Leaving him after that hadn’t been easy by any measure, but it would’ve been much harder to do if he had been awake. 

And this way, he knows it was nothing he did. 

Besides be a good listener, and being more compassionate than anyone I’ve ever met, and handsome, and funny. 

Nope, it was none of those reasons. It was because I, a self-admitted idiot, can’t keep my heart from wanting more. From wanting it to be real. 

Like I said, I’m an idiot. 

Even if... even if it sometimes felt like I wasn’t. I mean, there had to be a reason he was so unbelievably patient with me, right? A reason he looked at me with curious, attentive eyes that told me more than words ever could?

Pushing those thoughts away, I remind myself that it’s done. Over. I made my decision. Thinking about how dumb it was wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

And I had places to go. 

It had been such a short time since the last appointment, but so much had changed in my life. All good change, but change nonetheless. 

I’m starting over; reinventing myself. So what if I’m twenty-seven and single and have no idea what I’m doing? 

So what if I can’t stop thinking about Rhys’s smile, or the fact that our last appointment was supposed to be tomorrow?

Sighing, I turn over in bed and pull the covers above my head. No small part of me wishes I had his phone number so I could call him, hear him say my name. 

But I don’t, and it’s for a reason. He doesn’t get personal with clients, and I was just a client to him. 

I have no way of contacting him, of telling him that I regret leaving, and it’s a good thing. 

I repeat the words to myself just before I go to sleep, the lie bitter on my tongue. 

~

It’s Friday. 

Which, a week ago would’ve meant I would get dressed and go to work, not pay attention to what I was doing at all, and then meet Rhys. But I had rightfully ended things, so I didn’t need to do that. 

And I don’t need to go to work. 

Instead, I force myself to make breakfast and get dressed. Then I clean my entire house top to bottom, go on a run, ate lunch, and balance my checkbook. 

But when the clock reads six, there's no more denying it. I'm bored. And lonely.

So I do what any clinically insane woman would do: I go to the hotel, grabbing my art supplies as I leave. Getting in the car, I laugh as I look at the faded leather bag in my hands. 

It’s been ages since I’d reached for it so thoughtlessly. Once upon a time, this bag had been an extension of my arm, but I hadn’t thought about it since before the breakup. But now... I want to paint. 

And suddenly, I know exactly how I’m spending my evening. 

I drive to the hotel and get my key--for some reason I never cancelled the reservation--then head up to the room, frowning when I think about walking through this doorway with Rhys. 

How do I miss someone I hardly know?

Although, that isn’t really true. It’s only been a little over a month, but I feel like I do know him. I know what makes him laugh, what his favorite food is. I know the feel of his skin, the way his eyes crinkle when he’s annoyed. I know him. 

It doesn’t matter. 

I won’t ever see him again, but maybe... maybe I can give myself something to hold on to. 

I walk into the room, mess with the lights until the room is cast in soft, buttery light, and set up my art station. 

And then, for the first time in years, I paint. 

~

By the time I’ve finished the small piece, I’m smiling and feeling lighter than I have since... since last Friday. But I’m also hungry, so when I hear a knock on the door, I run over, assuming it’s my room service order. 

It’s not. 

My jaw hits the floor as I look up at Rhysand, who looks just as surprised to see me, even though he’s the one who knocked on my door. 

For a weird moment, we just stare at each other. 

Normally, I’d say something, maybe ask why he’s here, but I’m just so damn happy to see him. 

He’s tall and beautiful and smells like the ocean, and I realize then how much I’ve missed the twinkle in his eye, the curve of his lips. 

His eyes run over me, and then he glances behind me to where the make-shift, wobbly easel I keep in my bag still stands in front of the bed. 

“You’ve been painting.”

I nod. Given the paint-splatters on my hands and clothes, that’s pretty obvious. I have no idea what to say, so I just state the obvious. “You’re here.”

It comes out equal parts question, statement, and accusation. 

“So are you,” he shoots back. 

True. 

I have no idea why he’s here, but I know I don’t want him to leave, so I swing the door open wider in silent invitation. 

He takes it and walks in, looking at the rumpled bed and art supplies, then walking over to the easel curiously. 

Then I remember what I painted. 

And suddenly, all thoughts of why he might have come are long gone. All that remains is the blind panic that he’ll see what I’ve done and run for the hills. 

“Wait, don’t!” I shout, hauling ass to stand in front of him with my hands raised like a linebacker. “It’s... you can’t see it.”

Those violet eyes dance as his lips twitch. “Why not?”

“It’s not done.” Not true. Finished it twenty minutes ago. He’s turned me into a filthy liar, and we both know it. 

“Move.”

I shake my head. 

“Feyre, this is cute and all, but you weigh like a hundred pounds. Move, or I will move you.” I narrow my eyes, ready to go down fighting, and he laughs. “Please?”

The word gives me pause, and I know he’s not leaving until he sees it, so I sigh and move aside. 

He sticks out his tongue as he brushes past me, but the smugness leaves his face as he looks down at the small canvas and sees the subject.

It’s him.

It’s the image that’s been in my head for seven days now. The image of him laying in the bed exhausted and ruffled, covers drawn to his waist.

His tan chest is on full display, tattoos stark against the white sheets, and his hair is ruffled. His face--which took me the longest to get right--is peaceful as he sleeps, even though there are laughter lines around his full mouth. 

It’s how he looked when I left him. 

Real-life Rhys looks at the bed, then me. “You painted me.”

His voice is full of light, but I suddenly realize how fucking creepy this is. “Uh, yeah. Sorry?”

He gives me a strange look but changes the subject to something even more uncomfortable without missing a beat. “Is this how I looked when you left?”

I look at the floor, suddenly finding it interesting, but a hand on my chin forces my eyes back to his. 

“Yes.” It’s a whispered admission, but he hears it. 

“Why?”

“I had to,” I defend weakly. 

“No, you didn’t. You chose to.” His hand falls away, and his tone grows a little... irritated? “I’ve been looking for you, by the way. I went to the coffee place you mentioned liking every day this week. I even went to the museum, but they said you quit.”

A smile finds its way on my face as I nod. “I’m going to go back to painting, I think.”

His eyes are soft, even though his jaw is still set. “You can’t paint me any time you want, but I’ll expect commission.”

I roll my eyes, cheeks flushing. Rhysand grows quiet, his eyes searching mine, and I know he’s thinking of the perfect way to phrase whatever he’s about to say. 

“Why are you here, Feyre?”

It’s a simple question. Or at least it should be. But there’s no one answer.

I’m here because I miss him.

I’m here because I wanted to think about our time together, however brief it was. 

I’m here because I wanted to feel like how I do when I’m with him. 

I could tell him any one of these reasons, and they’d be true. But they’d still be a lie, because the real reason I drove here tonight... “I’m here because I was hoping you’d be here, too.”

Rhys smiles, and his hand is back on my face, cupping my cheek this time. “Well that works out well, because that’s why I’m here.”

Disbelief and joy shoot through me, leaving me a little confused. “What?”

“I’m here because I thought you might com here, and I wanted to see you. So I could thank you for what you did.”

Oh. 

Right. 

It had taken selling an old piece to one of my longest clients, but seeing the expression on his face right now makes the hassle well worth it. 

It’s nice seeing him happy, even if the disappointment in my chest is almost crushing. He’s here to thank me, because of his cousin. 

I open my mouth to speak, but he presses a finger to my lips to shut me up. “I’m not done yet.”

My eye brows fly up, and he smiles. “I’m here to yell at you for leaving me in the middle of the night, with a goddamn note no less.”

Yet again, he cuts me off when I try to speak. “Who tells someone they have feelings for them in a note? Fucking Jane Austen, that’s who. The next time you have compliments and sweet nothings to shower on me, you’re doing it in person.”

My lips twitch under his finger, drawing his gaze. And his voice goes a little deeper as he continues, “I’m here to tell you it was dumb to leave, because I don’t think of you as just a client, either. You’re more to me, even though I tried to fight it.”

Oh my gods. 

“And lastly, I’m here to kiss you until you believe that. I’m here to show you how much you’re not just a client to me. I’m here because I’m desperate for you, and I don’t want to spend another minute denying it to myself.”

Rhysand grows silent, the finger on my lips finally slipping away. “I’m done now.”

I don’t know what to say, really. 

Everything I thought I knew was wrong. And he... I...

I may not have a clue what I want to say, but I at least know what I want to do. 

So I do it. 

I practically jump on him, my hands locking around his neck and bringing his face down to mine so I can kiss him. 

Relief and happiness and a million other emotions course through me as our lips meet, and from the way he kisses me back, he’s feeling them too. 

It’s a frenzy--a wild clash of two people determined to get closer, to take more. 

We hit the floor, but I hardly notice it and I definitely don’t complain, because I’m sprawled on top of him. I’m partially aware that all the paint on my clothes is seeping into his, but neither of us seem to care. 

Rhys pulls back enough to growl, “A note.”

I mumble a reply, but I don’t know if it makes any sense, because his mouth is on my neck and I can’t hold down solid thoughts. 

All I can think is that I want his skin against mine, so I reach and tug his shirt off, then pull him back down to me. My arms are around his shoulders, legs around his waist, and his hips churn against mine in a way that makes us both breathless. 

His hands find the hem of my shirt, then it’s on the floor next to my head and his mouth is on my beast, teasing me until I squirm helplessly underneath him. 

“Rhys, please.”

Ignoring me entirely, he just kisses his way to my other breast, giving it the same treatment. I’m restless and just a little desperate at this point, but he pays it no mind as his mouth moves down my stomach. 

Rough, calloused hands lift my hips, then slide my remaining clothes down my legs, leaving me bare before him. 

The pause gives me enough time to realize we’re still on the floor, but then his mouth finds the apex of my thighs, and I stop caring. 

I moan, hips lifting to give him better access. 

He’s making it clear exactly how much he missed me, because while being with him is usually long and luxurious and sensual, it’s now... ravenous. I feel like I’m being devoured, and I love it.

My body finds release quickly, but Rhys doesn’t stop until I climax again, name falling off my lips in a breathy tone I hardly recognize. 

He prowls back up my body and kisses my mouth, proving everything he said ten minutes ago once again. My legs fall open further as he pauses to remove his jeans and roll a condom on, then a hand on my hip keeps me still as he pushes into me, eyes meeting mine the entire time. 

My head falls back, digging into the carpet, and he kisses my neck as he begins to move. 

My body’s already fatigued and satiated, but it comes alive under his touch, reacting instantly to the indecent roll of his hips. 

“You feel so good,” he groans at my ear, the words doing very little for my sanity. 

If I had the ability to form words, I’d respond. But I don’t, so I stay silent. 

Well, not silent, but I stay murmuring absolute jibberish as his hips move against mine. He speeds up, and I arch against him, loving the way he wraps his arms around me to keep me close. 

His mouth is back on mine, tongue meeting mine in a desperate, heady way that makes me groan. 

Release begins to build once again inside me, and he somehow senses it, reaching between my legs to work the bundle of nerves there. I go over the edge, legs and arms trembling from their hold around him. 

Rhys follows suit, murmuring my name over and over as his motions get a little sloppy, then stop altogether.

Our breathing comes heavy and fast, and for a minute, we just lay there, both of us incapable of doing anything more. 

Once I finally regain the ability to breathe, I mutter, “So, you have feelings for me.”

He grunts in acknowledgement, making me smile. “You have feelings for me, too.”

I don’t feel like grunting, so I say, “I do.”

He sighs, rolling us onto our sides. “Like I said, no self-control.”

“I blame you.”

His violet eyes twinkle as he props himself on an elbow and looks down at me. “Me and my good looks take full responsibility.”

I smile again and realize how happy I am. I’m on the floor and covered in paint, but I’ve never felt more beautiful or important. And it’s because of him. 

“I don’t know how to be in a relationship anymore,” I admit, scared but knowing more than anything that I want to try. 

Rhys shrugs, leaning to press a soft kiss to my lips. “I figure we’ll argue a lot and have really great sex.”

“Works for me.”

“As long as you paint me again. Preferably nude this time.”

__________________________________________________________

I am tired I apologize if I missed stuff editing. Thanks for reading!! Feel free to drop asks in the box :) I have a few I’m working on.

@trinitybailey @zukos-simp @that-other-pineapple @booksofthemoon @stardelia @awesomelena555 @queen-of-glass @whilma-warfstache @highqueenofelfhame @spyofthenightcourt @samcortlandisaginger @city-of-infernal-dauntless @verypaleninja @nikki1288-blog @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[d-ama-ien]

Take a Break

Summary: The District Attorney is sick, yet they drag themselves to work anyways. Damien convinces them to take a break, helping care for them after they agree to take the rest of the day off. 

Pairing: Mayor Attorney (Damien x the DA)

Warning: Some mentions of nausea and other cold symptoms

A fic for @fgfluidity 

Author note: It’s cold season y’all, take care of yourselves! Damien wants you to be health uwu

You know you're sick- yesterday your body felt tired, bone achingly tired, you weren't able to finish even half of the dinner you made yourself, and you passed out before the clock chimed 8, barely waking up to your alarm this morning. But, you're not allowed to be sick, not with the trial coming up, with all the work you need to do. So, you trudge through your morning routine, managing to make yourself look something like presentable, arriving at the office on time, as usual, smiling at the secretary like there wasn't a worry in the world. Just the short walk to your office had you exhausted, but fortunately, you could sit while doing your work, and then you'd be fine.

You were not fine. It didn't matter that the only thing you had been doing for the last hour was paperwork; you were exhausted, barely able to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Just another hour or so until lunch, then another 5 hours until you could go home, then another three days until the weekend, and then you could rest. For now, it was out of the question, and you page the secretary for some coffee before quickly changing your order to tea. Yeah, coffee wasn't the best idea with your stomach. Tea would have to do for the caffeine fix.

The tea didn't do much for your fatigue. It was warm, tasted nice, and it felt good to have something in your nearly empty stomach, but you managed to get through to lunchtime, at least. You sigh as the phone rings, not wanting to deal with a last-minute request for a lunch meeting or anything that would add to your workload, and accidentally let the phone ring through. Whoops.

It starts ringing again a moment later, and this time you force yourself to take the call.

"I'm sorry to bother you, DA. I know your lunch break just started, but the mayor has requested a meeting," You bite back a groan at the secretary's message, instead saying they could send the mayor in. You groan after hanging up, though- if it was anyone, literally anyone, else you could've said to claim you're busy and out of the office and that they could make an appointment for later. Yeah, that's not an option when it comes to the mayor.

Of course, the mayor isn't just the mayor; he's Damien, your dearest friend, and usually, you'd happily clear the day for him at the drop of a hat. Today wasn't the usual; you are sick and wanted to steal a quick nap during your lunch break so that you could push through the rest of the day. But, if Damien requests your presence, then your presence is given. There's a knock on the door then, and you prepare yourself before calling out, "Come in!"

Damien comes in, a warm smile on his face, though it falls slightly when he sees your face. He seems to know something is off, even though you had done your best to force a smile before he came in.

"Are you doing well, friend?" Damien asks, voice gentle with concern.

"Just a bit tired is all," you wave off his concern, gesturing for him to come in and sit. No reason to make him stand around; the cane only offers so much support after all.

"I'm sorry to pop in on you without warning. I realized how long it's been since we got to spend time together casually, and I know this is your usual lunchtime, so I figured we could go eat together," Damien sits on the edge of his seat, eyes trained on my face.

"That sounds lovely. Just let me grab my coat," you rise from your seat, having to pause and brace your weight on the desk when a wave of dizziness hits. Well, that's new. Damien is openly concerned now, standing and leaning on his cane as he puts a hesitant hand on your shoulder.

"Are you sure you're well? I wasn't going to say it, but you look awful," you figure you must look really bad for Damien to say something like that. He never says anything negative about your appearance, except for in university when he would be laughing about how terrible you'd look after a good party.

"I'm fine, really, just-"

"This is more than "just tired," you look like you're going to pass out!" Damien's grip leaves your shoulder, and he briefly rests the back of his hand on your forehead. You'd blush at that if your face wasn't already so hot. "You're burning up. What on Earth possessed you to come in today? Get your stuff; we're taking you home this instant,"

"Damien, I can't just leave in the middle of the day. I have work to do!" You protest, blushing as Damien levels you with a stern stare- the kind he uses when his staff acts up and needs to be reprimanded. You've always shuddered just witnessing it, but seeing it could never prepare you for being on the receiving end of it.

"You're just putting your health at risk by staying. How much work will you get done if you end up needing to go to the hospital?"

"Okay, Dames, it's a cold,"

"Colds can become serious if not properly dealt with. Gather your things now. You're taking today and tomorrow off,"

“Tomorrow?” He knows the case you have coming up, the work you have to do, and he thinks you're going to take a day and a half off?

"Tomorrow. Friend, your work will suffer if you aren't well. I know you have that case coming up, and doing this to yourself is just putting that at risk,"

You want to keep protesting, should keep protesting, but Damien is right. You and your work will only suffer if you don't nip this issue in the bud. So, with a deep sigh, you fetch your coat, obediently locking up the office and following Damien down the hall. He pauses to speak to the secretary, informing them you'll be out of the office for the remainder of today and all of tomorrow, on Damien's orders. You're glad Damien doesn't say the truth, that he's forcing you out of work because you're sick. After all, it would be rather embarrassing for the mayor to need to drag an ill district attorney home. Well, it was embarrassing, but only to you, as no one else knew about it.

Damien brought you to where his driver was waiting outside the building, quickly rattling your address off to the driver as you get settled. It isn't too far a drive, you live reasonably close to where you work after all, and soon you're sitting at your own kitchen table as Damien wanders through the kitchen, gradually collecting ingredients and cooking tools as he goes. He's taken off his jacket and vest, eventually rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he starts fusing with some of the ingredients he had gathered.

"Dames, what are you doing?" You ask, "You got me home, you don't have to stay," Damien looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, pausing for only a moment before continuing his quest.

"Friend, you were barely able to walk from the car to your table. There's no way I would just leave you here unattended. Would you even be able to cook for yourself?"

"You don't need to cook for me. I'm fine,"

"When's the last time you ate, then?"

"Dinner last night,"

"And did you actually eat a full meal?"

"Yes?" Damien pauses again, frowning at you, "Fine, no. I couldn't finish it,"

"You need to eat, so I'll cook for you," Damien sets a glass of water in front of you before going to the pot, starting to fill it with water and putting it on the stove.

"Drink that; with your fever, you'll need the hydration," he calls over his shoulder, ignoring your grumbling. The more stubborn part of you is a bit indignant at the treatment- you're an adult, a freaking district attorney, and Damien is instructing you on how to take care of yourself like you don't know any better. The more honest part of you is relishing in the attention because it's Damien taking care of you, sweetly looking out for your health and well being. You drink the water as you watch Damien work. He slowly added things to the pot, having dug up some veggies and herbs that you had nearly forgotten about, and adding those once they're cleaned and cut.

In a half-hour, there's a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you, Damien smiling warmly as he sits at the other side of the table with his own bowl.

"I had to improvise some of the ratios, so I hope it tastes alright," he says, sounding almost nervous. Is he worried you won't like it?

It's definitely one of the better soups you've had, not over seasoned but not bland like most foods made for an upset stomach are. You find yourself smiling as you take another spoonful.

"I didn't know you cooked," you say. The last time you had seen Damien cook was back in university- if that could be called cooking with the less than stellar results of most of his attempts.

"Well, I learned the basics from Celine before she moved in with Mark, but my staff does most of the cooking anymore," Damien explains, starting on his own bowl.

"I owe Celine a thank you. Last time you cooked for me, it's what caused me to be sick," you laugh slightly as you remember that "meal," using the term "meal" loosely, of course.

"In my defense, we were drunk," Damien points out, smiling at the memory. He's only smiling because he wasn't unlucky enough to eat it.

"Yes, and then I was suffering from food poisoning," he laughs fully at that, and you're thankful that at least a funny story came out of your misery. Damien finishes much faster than you do, but he sits with you and entertains with some more reminiscing as you slowly finish the full bowl.

"Why don't you go to your room and get in something more comfortable? I'll tidy up here and will be up in a moment," Damien suggests, standing to take your bowls to the sink.

"Dames, you really don't need to stay,"

"None of that, I always have time to be there for you. Go on upstairs," your protest dies in your throat when Damien briefly rests his hand on top of yours, squeezing gently. Then he's heading back over to the sink, starting the water and rinsing the dishes. You make your way upstairs, changing into a more comfortable outfit, resting on the edge of your bed after the effort of getting upstairs and getting changed. Damien knocks before coming in, always the gentleman, bringing a glass of water with him.

"I really don't need you to supervise me taking a nap," you point out as he sets the glass on your bedside table.

"I won't be supervising; I'm just keeping you company. You get settled in; I have to grab something." Part of you is embarrassed at the idea of Damien sitting with you while you sleep, but the other part of you recognizes the number of things he had seen you do in university and, well, taking a nap beside him was nothing compared to that.

You're laying down, just getting comfortable, when Damien reenters, carrying his briefcase in the hand not occupied by his cane.

"Do you mind if I sit beside you?" He asks, not even resting his hand on the bed until you nod. You glance over at him as he settles in, first noticing he was polite enough to kick off his shoes, then noticing his bare forearms, sleeves still rolled up from preparing lunch. He pulls out a file from the briefcase, starting to read it over while humming something under his breath. Damien's voice is rich and sweet enough when speaking, but his hums are like melted chocolate. You don't even notice how tired and relaxed you are until you're dozing off, asleep in mere minutes.

The sun is setting when you wake up, Damien's silhouette practically glowing with the late afternoon sunlight that hits him from the window. He's buried in another file, pen in hand. His other hand, you notice with surprise, is holding one of yours, thumb idly stroking the back of your hand as he reads, occasionally making a note. Now that you're awake, you should pull away, because this isn't proper- Damien's your friend, and your boss, but he's also so warm, and you're so comfortable, and you never want to let go of his hand. You shift slightly, drawing his attention your way, and you could die from how much affection is held in his smile as he notices you're awake.

"Ah, there's the little monster," he greets, and even though you're awake, he doesn't pull his hand away. You look down at your joined hands, Damien following your gaze- for a second, you swear he's blushing as he pulls away, but it could easily be the lighting.

"I'm sorry about that, you grabbed at my hand while you were asleep, and I didn't want to disturb you," he explains.

"Ah, sorry about grabbing you," you reply, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't apologize, I didn't mind," now that's definitely a blush rising on his face as he realizes what he said. You don't press the topic anymore; it's clear that he's flustered,  so you just roll over and reach your arms above your head to stretch. You slowly move to sit, grabbing the water off your bedside table, and taking a long drink.

"Are you hungry? I can heat the soup, or maybe I could make some pasta if your stomach is feeling better,"

"I think I could handle some pasta," you say, Damien nodding and moving to stand up.

"Take your time getting downstairs; it shouldn't take too long to have dinner prepared," Damien says as he packs his files and pen away into his briefcase, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his cane before leaving the room. You take your sweet time stretching and moving to stand. The water is boiling, and Damien is adding pasta to the pot as you get downstairs. True to his word, it doesn't take very long for the noodles to be prepared, Damien adding a bit of butter and a hint of salt and pepper before serving you a plate.

"Hopefully, it isn't too dull a meal, but we don't want to take any chances agitating your stomach even if it's feeling better right now," Damien says. The noodles are, admittedly, very plain, but it's also nice to have something a bit heavier in your stomach, even if it isn't a very exciting meal. There's less conversation this meal- you aren't sure that you fully woke up from your afternoon nap, and Damien seems content with the silence. It's quiet even after you finish, Damien talking and washing your plates as you finish another glass of water.

"Well," Damien starts once the dishes are set in the drying rack, fusing with his cane in a way that betrays discomfort.

"Well?" You question, not having enough context to prompt him further.

"I know it's a bit early, but since you're sick, you probably should be heading to bed soon," he says.

"Right. Would you want to stay the night?" You're not sure where the boldness to ask that question came from, your face burning with a blush as soon as you say it. Damien looks just as embarrassed but, well. He hasn't shut you down, hasn't proclaimed how immoral it is to even suggest that.

And then, "Do you really want me to stay?"

That's not the response you were expecting.

"I'd be happy to have you," while the sentiment was true, it was much bolder than you would usually be.

"Then I'd be happy to stay," your heart melts when he looks at you like that- if you were a little younger, a little more confident and naive, you would call that expression one of love. As it were, you knew better than to call it that, but it made your heart flutter nonetheless.

So, you end up lying on your side in bed, respectfully facing away as Damien removes his shirt and belt and his slacks. It was the only practical way for him to sleep, you had both agreed, but you wouldn't encroach on his privacy and observe as he disrobes. The situation was indecent enough as it is; there was certainly no reason to add to it. You're blushing as the bed dips, the covers shifting a bit as he slides between them.

You reach for the bedside table, turning off the lamp, plunging the room into a darkness that feels almost oppressive. You're hyper-aware of everything- his breathing, your own breathing, the warmth of having another person in the bed, the way the bed moves as Damien shifts. Then, a deep breath.

"Would you," Damien pauses, speaking quietly, "could I hold you?"

That isn't a question you asked a friend, you think, blushing at the implications behind him asking that.

"I wouldn't mind that," you answer, and your voice sounds too loud in the quiet room. There's more shifting then, a hesitant arm resting over your side, and you can tell that Damien hasn't fully settled, posed to pull away at any moment. So, you snuggle back, feeling his chest against your back, sighing as you let yourself relax into his touch. He relaxes a moment later, his arm a comfortable pressure on your side, breath warm where it occasionally brushes your ear. You fall asleep like that, his warmth almost painfully comfortable, and you have a blissfully deep sleep for the first time in ages.

The first thing you notice is how bright the room is, the sun much deeper in the sky than it would usually be when you get up. The next thing you notice is how much better you feel, no traces of nausea and barely tired. Then you notice that your bed is empty, and it's an incredibly disappointing realization that Damien had left while you were sleeping. But, on your bedside table was a glass of water, still cool, and a folded note with your name on it in curling script.

"My dearest,

I am terribly sorry to leave while you're still asleep. Unfortunately, I received an urgent request and had to go into the office earlier than I had been planning, and you needed the rest, so I didn't want to wake you. I left instructions for reheating the soup down in the kitchen, make sure you eat lunch and drink plenty of water. After work today, I will be stopping by check in on you, but you can call me if you need anything. Feel better soon.

Love,

Damien"

He called you his dearest and he signed the note with love, and you’re nearly swooning. You can't count how many times you skim the note, grinning every time your eyes cross his signature. Eventually, you manage to get up- you haven't had a proper day off in forever, and you fully intend to take advantage of it with a proper lazy day. And, at the end of the day, you get to look forward to your dearest, your Damien, coming home to you.

Well, maybe coming down with a cold isn't the worst thing after all.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Labelling Love | Part 2 (Collab)

Summary: Meeting you changed the way Eunwoo viewed romance and love entirely.

Pairing: Cha Eunwoo x female reader

Genre: university au / romance / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: Welcome to the second series in the monthly Love In Fours Ways collab with @jackiejacks923​ @noona-clock​ & @this-song-thats-only-for-you​ . In the final week of each month during this collab, we’ll be each sharing a mini-series using 4 of the pictures/concepts illustrated in the book that inspired our series that I’ve credited below.

Credit to: Puuung - Love Is In The Small Things // #76 , #60 , #4 , #33

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 // Collab Masterlist

Part 2 -  The Moment Just Before The Actual Kiss, Which Is Sometimes Even Sweeter Than The Kiss Itself

Blinking at his admission, your eyes then grew unfocused. “You… you what?”

“I know it’s ridiculous. Believe me, I don’t understand it either,” he continued hastily, letting go of your arm and running a hand through his hair. “But ever since I first saw you, I’ve been distracted like this.”

A small smile ghosted over your lips. “I see.”

“I’m normally rather efficient, not at all a bumbling mess like this.”

“And I make that harder?”

“You’re enjoying this now,” he lamented and you giggled before biting at your bottom lip. Eunwoo couldn’t help but groan at your elated expression. “Meanwhile I think I’m going insane.”

“I think you’re just being really romantic.”

Eunwoo laughed, shaking his head. “Oh no, that’s not me.”

“It’s not?” you echoed, pursing your lips together.

Oh god, why had he noticed them right at that moment?

Blinking rapidly, he sat back in his chair quickly. You watched him before grinning. “What’s not romantic about a guy telling you the reason he can’t think straight is because of you? Most girls dream of being told this, you know.”

“Really? But it’s so…”

“Romantic,” you repeated, your smile splitting your lips further. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Eunwoo.”

He sighed, glancing at you cautiously. “What do we do now about it?”

“Well, if sitting next to me is a bother, we could try moving apart so long as you don’t use this confession as something to avoid me entirely with.” Eunwoo didn’t mention out loud that it had been a thought he possessed, but you seemed to notice and hissed at him. “You can’t!”

“I dislike being this hopeless,” he told you with a pout which only made you further unable to remove your amusement. “Stop having so much fun at my expense!”

“You haven’t asked me what my thoughts are around this situation, Eunwoo.”

“Do I have to? It’s a ridiculous problem to have and I’m already struggling to navigate it myself.”

“We could do it together,” you offered airily, not quite meeting his gaze. “You know, like a team.”

“A team?”

“Yeah, we could work on extending your comfort zone whilst in my company. I’m sure the more time we spend together, you’ll find your footing again. Attraction only bothers people with a crush temporarily.”

Eunwoo glanced around the café before shooting you an exasperated look. “A crush?! Y/N, come-”

“I could take away the crush aspect of your problem, if you want, Eunwoo. Who’s to say I don’t have one too?”

Eunwoo stared at you dumbfounded until he started to grow dizzy. Yearning for fresh air, he barely breathed out an excuse me before dashing for the exit, walking briskly down the sidewalk whilst breathing in deeply.

You caught up to him a moment later. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Not usually,” he replied with a side glance in your direction. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his face when he realised the itch in his palm to reach out for yours.

He pocketed his hands deeply into his jeans.

“So you like me. And perhaps I like you.”

Eunwoo stopped walking and stared at you imploringly. “Did you like me before or after I admitted to being bothered by you?”

“Does it matter?”

“You’re just stunned because a guy said some nice things.”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you corrected and stepped closer. “I haven’t met someone who I can easily talk to right away like you. Normally I’m really reserved. Plus, I can’t deny that you’re rather handsome, either.”

Eunwoo couldn’t help but laugh then. “So normally we’re both different from how we’re representing to one another now.”

“It means something.”

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” he warned and you shrugged.

“Did I say I was in love? I just suggested we explore this. I’ll help you get over this issue you’re dealing with and see if what I feel is something worth acting upon. What do you say?”

Eunwoo sighed and after a moment’s thought, he nodded. “That sounds like the best option we have.”

Much to Eunwoo’s surprise, your idea worked well. It took enduring through another two weeks of less than stellar performances from him in class before he found the rhythm needed to be productive at your side. And because this was achieved by spending all his time in between classes with you, you were now efficient study buddies. You bounced ideas off one another, even with your other subjects that you didn’t take together. Eunwoo was also able to spend hours just reading across from you and whilst he still had moments where he stopped and stared or felt his heart racing, he was no longer incapable.

The physical reactions hadn’t stopped though. If anything, they had intensified. He would often find himself itching to reach out for you and sometimes he did that, relishing in the moment of connection. Holding your hand or letting you lean against him when you grew tired at the end of a cramming session made Eunwoo feel more in control of the reactions. He was empowered every time he gave into them.

And that made him realise that things had progressed in his mind further than just a crush.

“What are you doing over the weekend?” you asked during lunch and Eunwoo glanced up at you and shrugged.

“Probably nothing aside from a bit of study.”

“Nothing?” you asked and then shook your head. “That won’t do!”

“Being lazy and not attending school sounds like it’ll do just fine,” he admitted with a smirk and you rolled your eyes impatiently.

“But you could do more than that.”

“I could?” he wondered, looking at you curiously. “Like what?”

“We could go to the arcade or see a movie or-”

“Like a date?” he interrupted and you clamped your mouth shut, giving a small shy nod. He grinned. “Did you just try to ask me out on a date, Y/N?”

“Well you’re taking forever to do so and I just thought that it would be nice to spend time together outside of the university campus and explore more of what this feeling is between us.”

It was his turn to be delighted at your expense, chuckling when you started to grumble incoherently. Eunwoo leaned towards you with another smirk. “When will you pick me up?”

“You’ll go out with me?” you breathed and then a smile grew on your lips. “Really?”

“You’ll have to be prepared for me though. I’ve barely been holding back these last few days from you. If we’re going on a date, who knows what will happen.”

Actually, it wasn’t much different from daily life at your side. So far, you had enjoyed the arcade together and even saw a comedy that made his sides hurt from too much laughter. Now he was holding your hand and swinging it lightly as you ate ice-creams walking alongside the river. Conversation had flowed freely as had the smiles. Eunwoo was pretty sure the corners of his mouth were going to ache tomorrow after how much he’d curled his lips up in pleasure today with you.

Still, there was something that was different.

All day long, he had wanted to kiss you. At little moments, like when you grinned up at him after winning a game you’d tried several rounds on at the arcade. Or when you offered him a piece of popcorn and he had stared at you instead. You had even let him try your ice-cream flavour and for a second, Eunwoo had contemplated the age-old technique of kissing you to taste it instead.

Yet he held back each time, searching for a better moment.

“I guess I should take you home,” you mentioned once your ice-creams were finished, looking up at him with an unreadable expression. You then smiled when he laughed.

“I can’t believe you held to your end of the deal.”

“Well, I did ask you out on this date. Gender roles mean nothing in the modern age. A woman can pick a guy up and drop him off at his front door after an enjoyable time together.”

“You going to kiss me goodnight too then?” he wondered cheekily, only realising what he said a moment after.

Before he could apologise for the impromptu response, you were already slyly grinning up at him. “Maybe I should. Then one of us would have acted upon it.”

“You noticed?”

“How could I not?!” you exclaimed, shifting in closer. “You basically stared at my lips more than any other guy has before.”

Eunwoo rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Hah, I guess so.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been doing the same too. Wondering when I’d get to feel them against my own mouth.”

Eunwoo reached out to cup the side of your face, searching your eyes momentarily before leaning down towards you. He hesitated but not because he was nervous.

Watching as you fluttered your eyes shut when he was mere inches away from your face, Eunwoo’s heart started to thump noisily in his chest. He felt a surge of emotions wash over him as if he had already kissed you and had fallen trap to your enchanting ways. He witnessed the pursing of your lips, waiting for his own.

This moment.

This was more than he had ever experienced before in his life. He had dated girls when he was younger and even held a relationship for over a year during high school. But all of that paled to the way you willingly wanted him now.

It urged him to take your lips with his own, overwhelming all his senses. The kiss was soft, caressing right down to his soul. As he pulled you closer and deepened the embrace, Eunwoo knew he wouldn’t kiss anyone quite as well as he were you. Much as he tried to label the first moment, he searched through his mind for the reason why you made him feel like this now.

He couldn’t come up with any ideas that fitted perfectly, but your mouth sure felt as if it were made to be against his.

Finally, you stepped back, breath staggered and a hand upon your heaving chest. He watched you recover, his mind swirling with thoughts of you and his body was tingling from the experience.

“You’re beautiful,” he confessed and you eyed him again, a giddy smile crossing your swollen lips.

“And you’re mine now, right?”

Mine. Maybe that was the term Eunwoo was searching for. He nodded. “I’m yours.”

_________________

Part 3

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[ASTRO Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[metize]

MC x Caesar ((NSFW)) - Sunday Revolution

“We did it… Fuck, we actually did it…” you were out of breath the flames of revolution before you sparked hope in your eyes.

No more mafia supremacy over the town. You and Caesar used the Wolf Gang recruitment power to educate the poorer citizens, in the last months you organized a veritable commune in the forest harboring the less fortunate. Dr. Crow had been extremely helpful and sympathetic with your cause, he took Soh under his wing (haha) as his apprentice and the boy was truly a prodigy of a physician.

While Caesar orchestrated hunts, gathering food for the growing number of members, you handled the academic aspect of teaching people how to read and write. You often sneakily looted the Oz mansion for useful books and other such resources. Caesar himself was your first student, he was a quick learner, and getting praised for doing well always made him grin with pride.

You all knew you had to do something about the current state of affairs in town. The tension within those walls was palpable, even on Sundays, the familias were always a wrong move away from total warfare. They were always more preoccupied with hosting superficial festivals instead of taking care of social-economic inequalities reigning in town.

The Wolf Gang conquered each estate from the familias, their leaders cornered until they could do nothing but surrender. You gathered all of them to the Plaza, the city was burning and there was rubble everywhere. You and Caesar stood up on a vending stand, as a makeshift stage.

“I don’t get how you stay calm in moments people would be trembling in fear” Caesar snickered shaking his head.

“I know that despite the scary surface that there’s a lot of good underneath”

Were you talking about the scene before you or about the man beside you? You smiled knowing it was both.

“This is chaos, what did you do, MC?” Axel said behind you. He felt betrayed, all members of Oz did. You understood their positions, they were in a very comfortable place in the hierarchy and they were your dearest friends. You weren’t planning on dispatching the familias altogether, you couldn’t do it even if you wanted to. You were just going to install a more democratic system, reinvest and redistribute wealth, create programs…

“It’s not as chaotic as you’d think.” You smiled at him. You knew your people. You looked at the dispersed crowd before you, people tending to wounded civilians or extinguishing the fires. You took your handgun and shot into the sky above you, the sound resounding all over the plaza, getting everyone’s eyes on you.

“Friends, today we took the first step towards a brighter future. My name is MC, I'm part of the Wolf Gang and a friend of the mafia." You paused, remembering the speech you prepared beforehand for this very moment "I am a friend, I am not here to be feared. But no revolution takes place without violence. We won't abolish the Mafia, they are important to the town, but we shall give more power to the people." You looked at Caesar, a bit nervous. He was smiling and nodded at you in encouragement. "There will be more councils, democratically elected officials who are *not* from the ruling class. Peace will prevail and every day shall be a fearless Sunday." Applauses washed over the plaza, you could hear your heartbeat loudly drumming through your body. You smiled at the crowd before turning around to face Caesar.

The Wolf Gang leader pulled you closer by the collar and smashed your lips together roughly. Before you could even react he broke the kiss and stepped back to check in the other Wolf Gang members.

Your face went entirely red and it felt as if it was on fire.

"Huh?" You mumbled quietly. You touched your lips, trying to recompose yourself, before turning away descending your makeshift podium and heading to talk to the Mafia.

"So we're not going anywhere?" Axel stared at you dumbfounded.

"Nah, you just need to take it down a few notches." You sigh and smile "The people can't take that much mayhem all week. We need some normal people to keep you guys in check."

You called in a meeting with the families. You spoke with them for a while, explaining your plans, your motivations. The Oz family was not unreasonable, nor were the other Mafiosi in some respect, but you had needed to get their attention, or else they'd never wake up.

You couldn't have done it without your pack. The Wolf Gang was nothing like it used to be, it was still the sought after refuge from the mafia's antics, but its members were reformed and hardworking people. Its leader was always by your side giving you the strength you needed to accomplish your goals.

The day had been eventful to say the very least. It was midnight when you checked the clock in the council room, you had stayed thereafter the meeting going through dozens of reports and documents to update yourself on the current state of the territory situation. 

M"Look at that, my little prey all by herself with nowhere to run" Caesar entered the room locking the door behind him. You looked at him and smiled. He sighed disappointedly. "Can you at least pretend to be scared?"

"Oh no, the big bad wolf has caught me" you feigned terror, it wasn't your best performance. "How come you manage to face Hamelin himself but you can't face me after finally kissing me?"

"Finally, you say." He smirked at you. He had made your way towards you, now towering over you as you still sat in your chair. "I had to leave or else I have no idea what else I'd have done to you."

"Huh?" As you finished saying that his lips were already on yours.

He kissed you roughly almost forcing your mouth open to accept him in. Not that he needed to, you responded in kind, fully submitting to him. He pulled away glaring at the council table, he pushed off all documents spilling them all over the floor before taking you in his arms and placing you over it.

“You looked so hot up there spewing all that shit about freedom and democracy” he murmured into your ear, his hands caressing your thighs as he slotted himself between them. You giggled at his words, embarrassed.

“You’re just making fun of me at this point.”

“I’m serious.” He said and went in for another kiss. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms behind his neck, he growled inside your mouth and bit your bottom lip. “I wanted to ravage you right there, against that damn tower” he moved his mouth to your neck kissing it and biting it in equal measure “right in front of those mafia guys” he gripped your thighs harder, pulling you closer.

“Ngh Caesar…” you groaned as he groped your clothed chest while his other hand caressed your inner thighs close enough to your core to send shivers down your spine.

“They’d be so fucking jealous, knowing you belong to me and me alone.” just saying that made him grin despite himself. You were aware by now of how possessive he could be towards you, since day one he’d been calling you his prey. He swiped a finger over your clothed pussy, you moan dissatisfied trying to push towards him. But he held you by your hips so you couldn’t move. “Say it. Who do you belong to?”

“You, Caesar… I’m yours-”

“Damn right you are.” He smirks and gets on his knees before pulling up the hem of your dress. He made quick work of your panties discarding them just like the documents splayed on the ground. He was kissing your inner thighs and you could feel his breath in between your legs making you shudder with anticipation. “Ah… my prey I’ve been just dying to eat you up.” He looked up at you smiling as he slowly parted your lips and carefully stroked your clit with his thumb, you were groaning trying to scoot closer, but the wolf was far stronger than you, holding your hips in place with his other hand.

Before you could complain about his teasing his mouth was on your cunt and you gasped, holding the corner of the council table trying to steady yourself.

“Fuck- Caesar…” you moaned his name, he felt so warm, his tongue playing with your clit and you could feel him starting to enter a finger into your entrance. He was surely trying to make you go insane. His finger finding no resistance he added a second, steadily pressing them against you, pumping in and out. “Caesar I’m-”

And he stopped, the absolute demon he was. “Oh no, not just yet” and his fingers were gone. 

“H-how dare you…?” You groaned in protest

He snickered and got up undoing his pants, taking his cock out. “Want you to come with me inside of you, you can hold it for a little bit.” You’d get annoyed at him if your attention wasn’t somewhere else. He had a knot, of course, he did, your mind was hazy with lust, and the fact that he would knot you made your cunt clench around nothing. He pressed his erection against your entrance, sliding over it a bit teasingly in the cruelest way.

“Please…” you weren’t above begging, you just needed him inside you.

“You can do better than that.”

“Caesar please, need you to fuck me, need you, need your knot, please, make me yours…”

“Good girl,” he said, pressing into you, your pussy wet enough he entered with ease. He slowly pushed inside, stopping a bit when you groaned checking to see how you were doing, you nodded at him to keep going. “Just a bit more…” He bottomed out inside you, sighing as your heat enveloped him. “Fuck… Your tight little pussy is so wet for me, huh?”

You didn’t trust your voice, you groaned affirmatively and he took that as a queue to start moving. You couldn’t help but make noise, despite yourself, he had you edge already with the way he ate you out and all the teasing. 

“Ah… my prey makes the prettiest sounds…” He growled against your ear “If you keep making those I won’t be able to hold myself back”

“More…”

And just like that, he was gone. He didn’t stop to speak and tease you, all that came from his mouth was animalistic growls and harsh pants. He pounded into you faster, his cock reaching deep inside of you, making you moan and grasp his soft white hair. “Caesar, fuck… Caesar, I love you.” You came when you felt his knot start entering you and he kept thrusting through your orgasm.

“Again” he growled

“Aah- I love you… Caesar, I love you.”

“Fuck-” He bit down your neck as he came, his seed spilling deep inside you as he held you close through his spasms. You were both panting, trying to catch your breath.

“Ah- this was a terrible idea, how long are we going to stay like this..?”

“Uh… up to 30 minutes, it’s fine.” He grumbled, picked you up again, and sat in the chair still hugging you close. “I… do too.”

“Huh?”

“Love you, that is.” He muffled his voice against your shoulder. You giggled at his confession. Caesar nuzzled your neck for half an hour, enjoying your scent mixed with his. You weren’t able to walk afterward so he did end up carrying you to your cottage.

[skarsgard-daydreams]

How do you think The Kid would act/react when the reader in Sound and Color has to finally go back to work?

Note: This takes place after “On the Nature of Daylight” and "Quantum Entanglement.” It’s a little too long for a drabble, but not quite long enough for a story.

“Theory of Relativity”

Eight hours. That’s how long she said she would be gone, but he had no way of knowing if it had been eight minutes or eight years since she left. Time, for Henry, did not follow a linear pattern. It could slip suddenly and twist back in on itself, going retrograde, or stretch from the gravity of his emotions, lengthening the distance he had to travel to move from one second to another. She had given him instructions before she left for work—a list of things he could do in her absence to keep himself occupied—but they hadn’t stuck in his mind and he couldn’t remember where he’d left the slip of paper she’d scribbled on when his responses went from hums of understanding to a blank stare as he retreated into himself.

It wasn’t that he always needed her direction. He had established a sort of routine that he followed. When the sun began to filter through the curtains around his bed in the morning, the little orange cat he had rescued would wake him up by chewing on his hair, letting him know she wanted breakfast. He would go downstairs and measure out her cat food. She was skittish and watchful while she ate, and if he wasn’t there, she usually became too anxious to finish her meal, so Henry sat beside her and buried his fingers in her soft fur, scratching her behind the ears now and then until she was done.

That’s where the woman usually found him when she came into the kitchen in her bathrobe and started to make coffee—sitting on the floor with the cat. She always smiled at him and sometimes he felt the corners of his lips twitch reflexively in response. She would scramble some eggs while he made toast, and then they would eat together in comfortable silence.

After breakfast, he moved through the house like her shadow as he completed his own rituals. He sat under the window in her office and laid out the newspaper on the floor so he could scan over the pages, searching for words that stood out to him as though they were printed in bold font. Power. Penitent. Pisces. Pangborn. Possession. Plural. Parabola. When he had gone through each page, he would reassemble them in reverse order and leave them on her desk while he went to take a bath.

Sometimes after lunch he played piano or cut a length of string and laid on the floor watching the cat go wild over it. When the sun started to go down, the woman would flick on a lamp next to the couch, and Henry would curl up under a blanket and read about brain elasticity in a medical journal until his eyes grew heavy and he found himself sinking into the haze of sleep.

Now, without her there to anchor him in time and space, he couldn’t put the events of the day into order. He shuffled through every room in the house as though he might find her hiding in any one of them even though he knew she was gone. He felt her absence pull at him like a tether. He thought if he followed it like a rope in the darkness, he would find her at the other end, but she had told him to stay in the house. When he couldn’t think of what to do next, his mind circled back to that simple command, and he focused all of his energy on obeying it.

The dog crate in the basement had long been disassembled and hauled to the dump. She had tried to ask him once why he’d locked himself inside of it while she was gone. He felt a strange kind of pain radiate from her when she searched his face, trying so hard to understand. It wasn’t her own pain, he realized. It was the pain she thought he should feel, but he only felt disoriented and exposed by the cavernous space of the living room with its two-story windows that looked out onto the moonlit lake. He tilted his head to the side. “It was quiet,” he told her without meeting her eyes. “I was quiet.”

Henry’s fingers brushed over the cool metal of a doorknob. He pushed it open without thinking, stepping over the threshold into her bedroom. It felt haunted by her presence even though she wasn’t there. Her scent hung in the air, something warm and sweet and dappled with shades of pink and white. He padded over to the bed in his mismatched socks and pulled back the covers. It felt strange to be in her room without her, but he knew she would forgive him his trespasses. Sometimes she knew what he needed before he did, and right now, he needed her.

He crawled onto the bed and burrowed down under the blankets, inhaling the scent of her floral shampoo on her pillow. His mind went still, no longer ruminating on how long it would be before she returned. She had been here before, leaving an indelible imprint on time and space. He could feel her radiance somewhere in the universe, resonating at the same frequency as his own. If he wanted to, he could grab hold of the tether and pull her back to him. But she had told him to wait for her. She had promised he would be okay, and that she would be home as soon as she could. Her words replayed over and over again in his mind. He held onto her pillow tightly and listened to the ticking of the clock in the hall. “Trust me,” she had told him before she left. And he did.

(part of Sound and Color: a series of The Kid/Henry stories/drabbles)

@girlinthecorner @hiddlelecki @skrsgardspam @scxrsgxrd @grandpa-sweaters @stevesharrlngtons @upirs

[withoutmonsters]

Maybe I’m Too Young (to Keep Good Love from Going Wrong)

tags: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced child neglect, a little bit of period typical homophobia, pining, so much pining, post s2, pre-s3

link to ao3

The broccoli sizzled when it hit the hot oil. Steve grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred it, getting all nice and coated in oil, before turning back to his cutting board and finishing chopping the florets. He hummed as he did, a Tears for Fears song that he had heard on the radio on the ride home. The sound of knuckles against a window startled him, and he whipped around. Through the cutout on the wall and the sliding glass doors, Steve could see Billy, smirking like a cat who got the cream and looking like a supermodel. Steve cursed him for surprising him, but crossed out of the kitchen and the living room.

He pulled open the door, glaring a bit. “What the fuck, Hargrove?”

Billy smirked. “What, pretty boy? It’s seven, you should’ve been expecting me.”

Steve glanced at the clock. It was, indeed, seven. “That doesn’t give you carte blanche to just startle me out of nowhere, dick.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that your door was locked and I couldn’t get in, right? I wasn’t trying to startle you.”

Steve huffed, not bothering to give a reply. He knew Billy was right, as Billy was in most things, but that didn’t mean that he liked to admit it.

His friendship with Billy was a strange one. It was made up of equal parts aggression and secrecy. There were so many unspoken words between them that sometimes it felt like it was choking Steve, but he was never going to admit that, especially to Billy. He didn’t know a lot about the other boy, but he treasured what he did know. Like that Billy liked eating vegetables with his meat. If there wasn’t something green on his plate, he’d grumble about it until Steve found some. Steve knew that Billy was constantly licking him lips because they were always chapped. He knew that Billy had three freckles stretched across the expanse of his carotid artery on his neck, lined up like Orion’s Belt. He knew that Billy chewed on his cuticles and that his knuckles were constantly bleeding, not because of fights but because he was perpetually working on the Camaro. He knew that Billy liked his coffee so sweet that it puckered Steve’s lips when he tried it and that Billy would always wear the same three shirts over and over and over again. Steve learned that Billy tied his shoes incredibly tight and would always wrap himself up in about four layers of blankets if he came even remotely close to a bed.

The things that Steve didn’t know about Billy were, somehow, much more than what he did. They seemed to fill up the space around Billy, flooding the air and expanding like some sort of invisible gas. Steve choked on Billy’s secrets sometimes, when Billy showed up at 2 am, battered and hurt and looking like he just lost a fight against a grizzly. Those were the times when Steve had so many words and yet none at all, when he felt like he would suffocate on the lack of his reassurances. Billy never asked for them. All Billy asked for, the first time and all the times since, was a bathroom sink to spread out the first aid supplies he kept in his car. The first time Steve had volunteered his own supplies, Billy had pushed him away until Steve got in his face, eyes locked and mouth hardened in an unforgiving line. He had pulled the same expression he pulled when the party decided to go off and do something so incredibly stupid like venture into demodog infested tunnels just because their friend was in danger. He had worn the authority of his borrowed paternal status, like a mantle on his shoulders, chin held high and head canted like a crown rested on it, and Billy had given in, slumping like Atlas under the weight of the world, bags under his eyes and breath in his chest and he looked, for a moment, like a child, young and sad and so tired that Steve had wanted to wrap him up like a lost kitten and never let him go.

It had only been for a moment. Because the next was ruined with Billy’s words spilling from his mouth, because you could never forget that this was Billy Hargrove, a perpetual snake spewing poison, aggressive and angry and so on fire that sometimes it took Steve’s breath away. Billy burned like a bonfire; he was always so alive, like no one else Steve had ever known. Steve’s life had been a ceaseless suburbia, gray days bleeding into dark nights, and he hadn’t realized how much of it he had missed until Billy had blazed into the school parking lot, Scorpions on blast and an engine roaring like some kind of animal. It was like, through his whole life, Steve had been dreaming, lucid eyes wandering under closed lids, with flashes of decisions that usually ended up with him gripping a bat impaled with nails and waiting for a monster straight out of Dante’s ninth circle coming for him with shark teeth and a flower-petal face and in those moments, he wished with all his ardent heart that he’d lived differently, that he’d changed and loved and hoped and wanted but he never could find the energy to lift a finger when all was said and done and he’d gone home, bruised and tired and feeling a few centuries too old for his body. When it was all over, all Steve was good for was sleeping. Sleeping and waiting like some dragon, sitting on his trove with nostrils open and eyes closed.

And then Billy had been there, looking like a predator, and something had awoken in Steve, flaring to life in his chest and blazing a path through his mind until all he could see was Billy Hargrove, bedroom eyes and his sneer curling his lips. That was all, some nights. All Steve dreamed was Billy’s voice sliding through his ears, Billy’s eyes giving him so many mixed signals that they made cocktails in his lungs, gasping and burning and slurring until all Steve felt was an overwhelming exasperation with himself and the boy across from him. And some nights it was a blank panic that blacked out his vision until Billy found him like that, bruised and hurt but still concerned, because under all his hatred, he was just a boy with too big a heart. On those nights, it was Billy taking care of Steve, even if he was limping like a stray dog, like a broken machine. Steve would cling to him because he was real, because he was firm muscle grounded on strong legs attached to feet firmly planted to the ground and Steve felt like he would float away if he didn’t hold on hold tight to Billy’s biceps until he was sobbing crying breaking in his living room with all the lights blazing through the doors and then Billy would scoop him up and sit with him until early morning, when Steve was sleeping the exhausted sleep of a small child and Billy needed to get home before Neil decided that he had more of a problem than normal with Billy’s nocturnal habits.

This was the friendship that these two boys shared, stolen affections under the table, eyes locked and smirks exchanged and elaborate rituals concocted so that they could share one soft moment, because Hawkins didn’t like boys who dared to be soft; because Hawkins would punish boys who dared to be soft.

Nobody knew—not even Nancy, who was, arguably, still Steve’s best friend despite the breakup. He wasn’t doing too well with friends these days, to be honest. He had ditched Tommy and Carol when he’d started dating Nancy, and he didn’t really regret it until it was late in the day and Tommy was still throwing him those glances that were at once hateful and longing, like he couldn’t quite decide if he wanted Steve to be the scum in the storm drains or the king of the school. It was those days that Steve pushed Billy extra hard, meeting him glare-for-glare and shove-for-shove. Because he didn’t want to see those eyes watching hm from across the court, a sneer and tears in the same expression. He didn’t want to see Tommy, the boy who he’d loved and hated in equal measure since he was five years old and starting kindergarten.

And Billy was a nice distraction. A great one, in fact, from everything in his life. From demodogs and gates and girls with too-wise eyes that cut through the armor that Steve wore to the deep dark hole inside of him that ate up all his love, until he was an empty husk and everyone who’d ever made an effort to be his friend was standing six feet away, the same distance a coffin took up. But with Billy, the coffin was already there. Six feet of emotional distance, at all times. Enough space to shove a coffin, skeleton rotting through the body and all, placed like armor, because for Billy, anything that was living was potential to be hurt, and that meant weakness. And Billy wasn’t weak. Didn’t let himself be weak. Steve found it exhausting sometimes, the self-possession that Billy held. He kept it aloft, all the time, in rain or sun, through even his most deranged moments. At first, Steve thought he was wildly uncontrolled, a newborn colt kicking out at whatever he could reach, even if that was the life-giving mare right next to him. But the night at the Byers’ had made something painfully apparent: no, Billy wasn’t out of control. He was always, always in control, even if he was bashing his head into Steve’s like he didn’t care if he got a concussion. He knew everyone’s movements three steps ahead, and took the time to consider all of them and then make his own move; and most of the time, it was the worst move he could’ve made, designed specifically to hurt the most. He drove everyone away, with the careful precision of a surgeon overlaid by the brute force of a battering ram. It was distinctly Billy: strong and destructive and so completely unstoppable.

Billy leaned against the counter, blue eyes taking in too much as Steve fumbled with the broccoli florets. Steve’s nanny had taught him to cook in middle school. She had let him lurk in the kitchen as she moved about like a graceful ghost, hands quick and clever, eyes focused. Steve had asked to help one day, because the nights when she cooked were the closest he had gotten to family dinners in years, and she gave him a smile and showed him. When she was officially unemployed by the Harringtons, Steve kept in touch with her, receiving recipes weekly from her. It was something that endlessly fascinated Billy for some reason, Steve’s ability to cook. The first time he’d stayed for dinner, his eyes had been pinned to Steve the whole night. Steve had shifted, awkward under his stare, wondering if it would always be like that.

Steve added the broccoli heads, stirring until they were coated. After he was done with the broccoli, Steve added the chicken, cut up into bite sized pieces, to brown. Billy went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, silently offering to get one for Steve, too. Steve shook his head, motioning to the bottle of wine that he had opened when he started cooking dinner.

Billy’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Bougie wine mom,” he joked, voice gently teasing, and Steve wrinkled his nose at him.

They sat down to dinner in comfortable silence, forks clinking against plates and the sounds of chewing the only conversation. Steve didn’t mind; in fact, he enjoyed nights like these, where Billy was quietly soft, more focused on his own inner narrative than what is going on around him. The first few nights like this, Billy had swung between awkward and aggressive, until they had actually sat down to eat food and then Billy had dug in like a starving dog and suddenly the bubble of awkward dancing around each other was popped and it felt like they had been doing this since they were children.

“Damn,” Billy had muttered. “This is really good, Harrington.”

Steve’s cooking skills had spawned a slew of mom jokes from him, as well, but Steve weathered them good-naturedly because when Billy was teasing him about his cooking, he wasn’t flirting. And that was sort of the goal, for these nights. To avoid flirting with Billy Hargrove, because it was becoming more and more apparent that Steve was beginning to like him too much for his own good.

And he couldn’t like Billy, because liking Billy meant wanting Billy and if it was one thing that Steve knew for certain, it was that wanting Billy would kill him. It wouldn’t be the demodogs, it wouldn’t be the Mind Flayer—hell, it wouldn’t even be the snowy roads in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere, Indiana, that never got salted after a storm and were always perilous to drive. No, it would be the sheer wanting of Billy Hargrove.

And Steve couldn’t say he didn’t look forward to that day, but he also wasn’t the one who relished pain like Billy. He couldn’t laugh through a punch; he couldn’t make it seem like it was simultaneously all a big joke and deathly-serious at the same time. Steve didn’t like pain despite the number of fights he lost.

But Billy—Billy was the kind of pain he kept poking at. In the early mornings when the sun hadn’t quite risen yet, in the dark of night when the maws of the Demogorgon ate up his dreams, in the bright daylight at school when Steve could see Billy’s face all to clearly, he poked at it. It felt a little like a sore tooth; he could walk on it, chew with it, move with it, but it wasn’t comfortable.

Billy finished all the food on his plate in record time and got up to get more. Steve watched him go, thinking about how that broad back was always turned to him, even when Billy was walking toward him, and it hurt something deep inside of him, but he wouldn’t say anything.

There was nothing to say. There was food to eat, and a hungry boy to feed, and perhaps some bruises to tend. What there was not something between them. Steve could survive this strange friendship with Billy, but he couldn't survive love.

[bleedinghearthalstead]

SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 10, woop woop! SWAT!AU version of Chicago Med 2x20 Generation Gap. Crossposted on AO3, link on my blog.

"What are you doing here?" A raspy voice comes from the next room.

Jay sighs. "Will wanted me to check on you."

"No need," the voice returns. Hailey’s head snaps towards the voice when the older man in the White Sox t-shirt gruffly turns to her. "And who is she?"

They walk through the front yard with the white and green picket fence and straight into the white and green house, Jay not even bothering to knock, and wow, if Hailey didn't know that Jay was a White Sox fan before, she'd know it now... or at least know where he got it from. She looks around the place and there's memorabilia everywhere – a White Sox wall clock, a White Sox jersey framed on the wall, baseball caps, bobble heads, there's actually a game on the TV...

"What are you doing here?" A raspy voice comes from the next room.

Jay sighs. "Will wanted me to check on you."

"No need," the voice returns. Hailey’s head snaps towards the voice when the older man in the White Sox t-shirt gruffly turns to her. "And who is she?"

"Pop." Jay takes her hand and pulls her to his side to where he's standing in front of his father who is sitting in a recliner. "This is Hailey," he pauses and clears his throat while she squeezes his hand, "my fiancée."

Patrick Halstead laughs. Hailey doesn't know what kind of reaction she expected, not that she thought that she'd receive a warm welcome, but it still kind of hurts, and if not for her sake, then for Jay's. They've shared some of their experiences growing up and she knows that Jay and his father don't have much of a relationship – Jay has barely spoken to him since he joined the Army and even less after his mother died, just as she doesn't have any contact with her father except for when her mother isn't fast enough to be the first to pick up the phone. But how the man in front of her can manage to look down at them from his position sitting down is still unbelievable to her. It all feels oddly familiar though. She glances at Jay out of the corner of her eye and she can see the muscle in his jaw twitching and the corners of his mouth pulling down into a frown.

"Yeah, my fiancée," Jay huffs. "What's so funny about that?"

The older man wheezes while he is still laughing. "Didn't think you'd ever have the balls to-" When Pat spots the diamond ring on Hailey's left hand, he loses his train of thought.

Hailey notices him staring at her hand and instinctively crosses her arms, hiding the ring from view, although she doesn't really know why she does it. Well no, she does know why. She immediately knew that he recognized the ring, hell, he must have been the one to buy it and he'd seen it on another woman's hand for over twenty years, but while Hailey is still getting used to wearing the ring, she is already extremely possessive of it. It's hers, a symbol of Jay's love.

Pat frowns at the couple, unsure of himself all of a sudden. He hasn't seen that ring in years, over a decade really, and it's bringing back all kinds of feelings that he definitely doesn't want to deal with. He settles on disdain and turns back to his son. "Again, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Again," Jay parrots and pointedly stares at Pat. "Will wanted me to check on you. He said you didn't sound so good when you talked on the phone."

Hailey and Jay had been in the middle of the maze that is an IKEA store looking for a new coffee table when Jay's phone had started buzzing insistently. He'd declined his brother's calls twice before he picked up on the third time. They'd had a ten minute discussion about whether Jay really (really?) needed to go over to their Dad's house while Jay was lounging on one of the display beds until he'd reluctantly agreed.

And Jay has to hold back rolling his eyes because Will was right. He takes a closer look at his father – he is pale except for his red cheeks, there's a sheen of sweat on his skin and he's breathing heavily, gasping almost, although he is reclined in his chair and was probably doing nothing except for sitting there and watching TV.

"As I said to your brother," Pat rasps, "I don't need this, I'm fine."

His son scoffs. "Are you kidding me? You can barely talk!" Pat only grunts at him and Jay sighs. "Come on, we're taking you to Med."

"Like hell you will, it's just a waste of a trip," the older man grumps.

"Dad, come on. Let Will have a look at you."

"What, so I can take medical advice from someone who wet the bed until he was nine?" Hailey's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and Jay groans at the jab at his older brother who isn't even there.

"Stop being so stubborn, you old pri-"

"Mr. Halstead," Hailey interjects before Jay can finish his sentence with an insult, "you're obviously having a lot of trouble breathing, why don't you let us take you to the hospital?"

The older man glares at Hailey. "And now I have to listen to some ditzy blonde-"

"Hey!" Jay snaps at his father.

"Mr. Halstead," Hailey tries again, this time more firmly, "either you let us take you or I might have to call in an emergency and have an ambulance roll up." She takes out her police radio and stares him down, fiddling with the dial. "I think I heard cries for help coming from this house."

Pat stares back at the defiant young woman next to his son, waiting on her to call her bluff. One of her hands is propped up on her hip and she's added a raised eyebrow into the mix. When she doesn't budge at his glare, he huffs, "I'll be damned if I'll have neighbors see me hauled out of here in an ambulance." He pushes himself up from his seat with shaky arms and grunts with the effort. "If we're going, I'm driving."

Jay's snort is cut short when he sees his father sway as soon as he is upright. "Woah, Pop!" He grabs his father by the arm, holding him steady.

Pat groans, but tries to push his son's hand away. "I got it!"

"I'll call the ambulance." Hailey takes the man's other arm.

"No!" The older man says with more force than expected, especially given his condition, and shakes both of them off. "Just move your asses."

Pat walks or rather staggers out on his own, with Jay hovering next to him the entire way to the jeep. He helps his father into the front passenger seat and Hailey slides into the back. When Jay starts the car, he looks at his fiancée through the rearview mirror. "Can you text Will, tell him we're gonna be there in twenty?" She nods at him and starts typing a message on her phone.

* * * * *

Jay drives right up to the emergency department entrance and they are greeted by Will, a nurse and a wheelchair. Of course Pat refuses to sit in the damn thing, so both brothers guide the older man to the nearest open exam room, their father grumbling at them to leave him alone. Since Will isn't allowed to treat the elder Halstead, he's also called in Dr. Rhodes who immediately starts calling out treatments and diagnostic tools as soon as they have Pat on the exam bed.

Will turns to his brother and future sister-in-law who have stopped at the exam room door, pats Jay on the back and smiles at Hailey. "Thanks for bringing him in."

"Yeah, no problem." Jay frowns, watching their father being hooked up to oxygen and various monitors, being reminded of another time he was unable to help one of his parents. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Will checks on what is happening in the exam room. "Apical holosystolic murmur and his lungs are wet."

Jay rolls his eyes at his brother. "In English?"

"It means that his heart has been compensating for his faulty mitral valve for a very long time and now it can't keep up, so fluid is backing up into his lungs." Will grimaces. "It looks like he's having a NSTEMI – it's a type of heart attack."

When the team of doctors and nurses pushes Pat's gurney out of the room, Jay's frown deepens and he scratches the back of his head, a telltale sign that he is getting upset. Hailey takes his hand in hers and rubs his arm with her other hand.

Will starts following the gurney, but stops and turns back to his brother. "Don't worry, we can beat this. Dad needs an angiogram, I'll let you know when he's done." He gives Jay a quick one-armed hug and jogs after their father who is being wheeled towards the elevators at the end of the hallway.

Jay keeps staring after his brother until Hailey squeezes his hand. "Come on, let's go park the car somewhere it's not gonna be in the way of an actual ambulance and then we'll be right back, okay?" She gives him a soft smile and rubs his arm again. Jay just nods at her and lets her lead him back to the jeep.

* * * * *

After the non-surgical treatment failed and Pat was quickly rushed to the operating room, Will left Jay and Hailey in the waiting area and went to observe their father's surgery, but when he comes back, Hailey is waiting by herself, reading a magazine that's probably been there for a few months at least.

As soon as she sees Will, she gets up and walks up to him. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, the surgery went well." He lets out a relieved breath that he didn't realize he was holding. "They fixed the mitral valve – shouldn't give him any more problems. He's still in recovery, but they'll get him to a room soon."

"That's great." Hailey gives him a hug. She pulls back and notices Will looking around the room. "Jay was called in. He said he'd be back as soon as possible, but it may take a while, you know how it goes. I can text him if you want?"

"Thanks, yeah, that'd be good."

When she sees that Will is still fidgeting, Hailey puts a hand on his arm. "You okay? When was the last time you ate something? Do you want me to get you something?"

"I'm fine," Will says, but he's still looking antsy. "I should probably head back to the house and get some of my Dad's things… but it can probably wait till Jay gets back. I don't want to leave my Dad by himself."

"I can stay with him," Hailey blurts out, but as soon as she says it, she internally panics, thinking she's overstepped. Although she and Jay are engaged now and she feels like Will and her get along pretty well, she's only met their father a few hours ago and that meeting couldn't be called friendly by a stretch.

"You sure?" Will looks hopeful though, so her decision has already been made for her.

"Yeah, I can sit with him till you get back." She raises a questioning eyebrow at Will. "He'll be out of it for while, right? From the surgery?"

Sensing Hailey's hesitation, Will chuckles and gives her an out. "You really don't have to stay, it's fine." But in that moment, his stomach growls and he gives Hailey a sheepish smile. She only gives him a pointed look. "If you're really sure… I'll be quick, I promise. I'll tell the nurses to let you know what room he's in."

She shoos him away. "Go. I know how to deal with difficult fathers." Will has half a mind to ask her what she meant by that, but figures this is neither the time nor place.

* * * * *

Hailey is reading a text from Will that he's on his way back when a hoarse voice startles her.

"How long have you two been engaged?" Hailey raises an eyebrow at the question. She feels like it deserves a sarcastic answer given his earlier reaction to the couple, but the man in the hospital bed beside her has been through major surgery so she decides to give him some leeway. Before she can answer though, Pat coughs and grunts in pain.

"Do you need me to call a nurse? Are you in pain?" She is looking around for the call button, but the elder Halstead stops her with an annoyed wave of his hand.

"No, I'm fine." And if there's one thing she's learned from meeting their father, Hailey now knows that the one personality trait commonly shared between all Halstead men is that they are stubborn as hell. Pat slowly reaches for the cup of water that's been conveniently (thankfully) left on the bedside table by the nurse that showed her to the room earlier. She helps him with the straw and takes the cup from him after he takes a couple of sips, but stops fussing as soon as Pat has settled back against the pillows. "Where are my boys?"

The way he says it, soft and somewhat disappointed that neither Will nor Jay is here, Hailey isn't sure if he meant to say it out loud like that. "Will's on his way back from the house and Jay's been called into work." She checks her phone to see if she's gotten a message from Jay in the meantime, but he still hasn't replied to her text that his father's surgery went well, but then she also knows that Jay doesn't keep his phone on him when he's out on a call.

Pat grunts in response, then motions at Hailey. "Hand me the remote, will ya?" She does and he starts zapping through the channels. "I missed the game for this."

Hailey rolls her eyes when he waves the remote at her not to block his view, but also turns to the TV and settles back in her chair, although it's almost impossible to get comfortable on the hard plastic. She watches as Pat changes channels every few seconds, going through all the channels twice before sighing and putting on an old White Sox game. She can live with that.

They watch the game in somewhat of a comfortable silence until Pat speaks up again. "So?" When the young woman frowns at him, he huffs. "You didn't answer my question."

"We only got engaged last month." Hailey can't help but blush thinking back to the day at the range and the surprise that awaited her. There's a feeling of butterflies in her stomach every time she thinks about Jay and her getting married soon and she couldn't be happier. Still, she feels like she needs to elaborate. "But we've been together for over two years now."

"So no shotgun wedding?"

Hailey laughs. "No, definitely not."

"He treat you well? That boy can be trouble, always has been."

"Trouble?" Hailey feels sudden anger flare up inside of her at the uncalled-for dig at her fiancé and any compassion she felt for the older man evaporates within seconds. "Jay served – is still serving – his country and just because he didn't do what you wanted him to do, he's trouble?"

"Don't be disappointed when he leaves you," Pat mutters, averting his eyes.

Hailey lets out a humorless laugh. "Oh I've heard all about your son being a disappointment to you. And Will too. You do realize that both of your sons have done everything they can to help you today? If it weren't for them, you might as well be dead." The blonde knows that she's being very harsh, but maybe that is what's needed to drive the point home for once. Having said her piece, she turns back to the TV and dreads having to spend another minute with the older man, but she told Will that she'd stay with him and she's not going back on her word.

"You're right," Pat says after a couple of minutes where the sound coming from the TV was the only thing that made the silence between them even remotely bearable. "They made something of their lives. They're better men than I am."

"I don't think they feel that way," she sasses, but pauses at Pat's defeated look. "But I also don't think they'd want you to feel that way either."

Will chooses that moment to appear at the door, slightly out of breath and carrying a luggage bag. "Hey guys." He looks between the two of them, dimly aware of the tension in the room. "How are you feeling, Pop?"

Pat sighs. "Like I took one on the chin."

"You kind of did." His son smirks at him.

"I'm gonna head home, leave you guys to it." Hailey stands up from her seat, her mission accomplished with Will's return. "Keep me updated, Will, yeah? Bye, Mr. Halstead."

Before she can step away from the bed, he stops her with a hand on hers and gives her a small smile. "Call me Pat."

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Fever {2}

Jacob/Bella Twilight Fix-It Fic

Series Masterlist

A/N: Bella acquires some self-awareness. Team let all these characters say fuck. Again, if you don’t like it, don’t read it, this is just me screaming into the void.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment

Summary: Months passed since Edward left and Bella has finally reentered the real world, maybe Forks will be normal.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,478

Walking into school when I was aware of my surroundings was jarring after months of floating in existence. I muddled through classes, thankful that as a senior, most of my teachers taught in a lecture format and I could lose myself while they instructed, by now most had given up calling on me for answers. As I was packing my bag from English I heard a voice call my name. I snapped my head up, Mike stood in front of me. “What? Sorry, did you need something?” I asked.

“Are you working tomorrow?” He asked anxiously, every week he had asked this question. I had been answering on autopilot.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” I said with a shrug, I always showed up. Maybe in zombie mode, but I was there. And that paycheck was what would be filling my college fund. Or at least giving me a starting point for it.

“It is.” He nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer before he left the room. I finished packing up and wandered into the hallway. My first exchange with someone wasn’t horrible, but I dreaded the next with Jessica. She had been like a fly buzzing in my ear, but something told me that today, I would not be able to just tune her out.

I walked to my seat and glanced over at her. “Hi.” I said awkwardly with a small wave.

Her eyes widened for a moment. “Hello, Bella.” She stated in short accented bursts, but today, she didn’t give me a mindless deluge of her life. She remained silent, she stared at Mr. Varner as he lectured Calculus methods, but her eyes kept flitting over to me curiously. When class had winded down she turned to me. “Do you need help with calc?”

I gave her what I thought was a hopeful expression, “I need so much help.” Then froze, “With calculus, well with other things too, but that’s not your department.”

She chuckled. “I think I can handle calculus. I’m free tomorrow.”

I grimaced. “I work tomorrow.”

She nodded, “Mike had said you were working at Newton’s.” She tapped her pencil on her chin. “We’ll figure it out, we can always stay late sometime to work on calc. The library is open until 4:30.”

I smiled, then the bell rang, the day was over, I had two conversations with classmates who probably thought I was possessed after the past few months, but it was progress. Maybe if I shared it with Dad, he’d feel hopeful. I drove home, the constant weight that had made a home in my chest had lightened. I was surprised to come home and see Dad’s squad car parked out front, he had been working later, I was used to being home alone until he came back from work.

He was sitting in his recliner when I walked through the door, his eyes closed and a quiet snore escaping his lips. I tried to tiptoe in, to let him get a half-decent nap in, but his eyes opened when I closed the door.

“Good day at school?” He asked groggily.

“It was a day, at school.” I shrugged, setting my backpack down and sitting on the couch.

He nodded, “I got ahold of the therapist, Dr. Theresa Gilbert. She said she can see you on Monday after school. We can drive up, we’ll get there by 4 and she said you could start with a session, see how you feel. If you don’t get along she can refer you to another.”

I nodded, one session to start, I could handle that. “Are you sure we can do this?”

Dad quirked an eyebrow. “Your mother and I talked it over, we can swing it, you’re on my insurance plan, it’s not the best, but it will be fine.”

“So I’ll just leave school Monday and drive up to Port Angeles?”

“I’ll drive you.” Dad stated, I started to protest, but he cut me off. “Bells, I want to support you, you can go in yourself, I can sit in the car and wait. I won’t go in unless you want me to.”

“Okay.” I murmured, sensing there was something more to his wanting to go. Not a ‘I’m going to ensure you go’ but more of a ‘I have to be there.’

“You have work tomorrow?” He asked.

“Yeah, Saturdays are my day.” I nodded.

He let out a hum and stood up. “I’ll get dinner started. Let you know when it’s ready.”

I nodded and opened my backpack. I wasn’t worried about English or Social Studies, those two classes I could muddle through. But Calculus was going to be the bane of my existence. I continued working until Dad called me into the kitchen, it was spaghetti, a staple meal for him. Which, the past few months, I didn’t really notice how many times we ate it, but I imagine he did. “Dad, do you want me to start helping cook again?” I asked as I took a helping of pasta and sauce.

“Getting tired of spaghetti?” He teased, but added. “Only if you want to, you don’t have to take over. I can… get adventurous.”

I laughed. “I’ll start doing some meals, get some change in our diet.” I said taking a bite.

He smiled at me and we ate in silence. I washed the dishes before going up to bed, he turned on the TV to watch some game that was important to him. I closed my bedroom door behind me and took a deep breath. The throbbing in my chest was present again, my knees felt weak. It had been a good day, why now? I curled into a ball on my bed and willed myself to sleep. The dull throbbing lulled me to sleep as I counted my heartbeats.

Breakfast the next morning was silent, Dad had left a note on the fridge that he had to go to the station early. Forks barely ever had need of him this early, but after spending a year with vampires, I don’t know how much would surprise me anymore. I put my empty bowl in the sink and walked out to my truck. I let the engine sputter for a moment before it started, rap music started blaring through the stereo and I flinched back. When did I start listening to rap?

Mike was at the counter when I clocked in, “Hey, Bella.” He greeted.

“Hey, Mike.” I returned, putting on my vest and taking a seat next to him. “Busy morning.” I joked, gesturing at the empty store.

He glanced up at me, eyebrows almost in his hairline. “Yeah, busy.” He let out a small laugh. “How are you?”

“I’m here.” I answered, grateful for the bell to sound as a few customers entered. Mike nodded and went to help them. Early on, we learned that I was best at the cash register, and Mike was best with helping customers. Maybe that was just because I had been off this plane of existence for so long. But I was pretty hopeless when it came to the outdoorsy needs.

It must have been at least two hours that he spent going over different items with them before they finally checked out.

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t a grizzly, that thing was bigger than any grizzlies I’ve seen.” The first one, a big burly man with an unkempt beard started, tossing his items on the counter.

“I doubt it, there’s only black bear up here, and they don’t get that big. You’ve probably only seen young grizzlies.” The other, taller and lean with tan skin stated, throwing his items next to the first man’s.

“I’ve seen a full grown grizzly, and whatever was in those woods had at least three feet on a grizzly.” The first retorted, handing me cash when I gave him his total.

“Bullshit, you’re acting like you saw Sasquatch. Probably just your eyes playing tricks on you. You haven’t been the same since you stared into the sun.” The second teased, handing me his cash, a smirk on his face.

“That was years ago, and my eye sight is just fine. There’s a big ass bear in these woods.” Beardy grumbled, stomping out of the store to their truck.

“Don’t mind him, he always gets grumpy when we start trips.” The taller man said, taking his items and following the other out.

I glanced over at Mike who watched them leave then flipped the open sign to closed. He shrugged at me. “What? It’s not like there’s going to be a sudden raid for hiking equipment, especially with those two as our only customers. I can close up.”

“I’ll help, no reason for you to be stuck with the grunt work.” I stood from my stool and grabbed the broom. I started sweeping, I could feel Mike’s eyes on me. “You need something?”

He froze, his hand going behind his neck and he looked a little guilty. “We’ve missed you, Ang, Ben, even Jess, she won’t admit it.”

I felt a blush creep up my neck. “I guess I’ve been a bit of a hermit.”

“Yeah, just a bit.” Mike chuckled. “We’re here if you need us.”

I paused, taking in that statement. I had been so absorbed in myself the past few months, I honestly had forgotten what it was like having friends that weren’t…..them. I know last year I had been consumed by being a part of them that I had forgotten the people who were there for me first when I moved to Forks. “Thanks, Mike.” I continued to sweep, feeling a bit ashamed of the tunnel vision I had been in for the past year. The day I stepped onto the Forks campus I had been obsessed with him. And he didn’t want me, he left me, who was I without him? I finished up and gave Mike a quick goodbye, walking to my car faster than normal. I slammed the door and sped, well, moved as fast as my old girl would, and drove home. I made it halfway there before the tears started to fall. I pulled to the side of the road and threw the truck in park.

I pressed my head against the steering wheel as the sobs continued to tear through my body. I had given an entire year to him, lost myself in the fantasy of being his for eternity. I had been obsessed with immortality, the promise of never aging, never dying. And he didn’t want me, I was just a toy. I had served my purpose of amusement for a fleeting moment of his life, then I was thrown to the wolves. I almost died for him.

I froze when that thought appeared. I almost died…. For him. I put myself into danger for him. My blood was boiling, I had gone to that dance studio and been prepared to sacrifice my life. For what? A year, one fucking year and a few kisses. Kisses that were so controlled and choreographed they might has well have been a peck on the cheek. My radio broke me from my thoughts as a loud, angry song started. I looked over at my passenger seat, the old wrench sat there. Jacob had left it there, “Just in case the hood refuses to go back down, give it a good whack with this and it’ll be good as new.”

Jacob, I hadn’t seen him in a while… I shook my head and grabbed the wrench and slammed it into the radio. I kept going until the sound stopped, the radio that they had installed for my birthday was in pieces. I dropped the wrench onto the truck bench, I stared at the bent and broken plastic. The tears had stopped, the dull pain in my chest was back. I groaned, not sure how I was going to explain the mess I had made to Dad. A twig snapped in the woods to my right. I swore that I saw a flash of movement from the woods as I put the truck into gear. The two hikers had been talking about bears, maybe it was just a bear. Yeah, just a bear.

I tried to quiet my mind as I drove home, I thought today had been a good day, but breaking down in my truck and destroying the radio probably didn’t fit the definition of a good day. I had felt something though, months of floating in a void and I had felt guilty and angry. I pulled into the driveway, Dad still wasn’t home. I checked the messages on the phone, “I’ll be late tonight Bells, there’s leftovers in the fridge. Don’t worry about me. I’ll grab something when I’m home. Love you.”

That was something that had become more common in the past few months, Dad letting me know he loved me. He was always saying, love you, I love you. And I had started calling him Dad, not Charlie. Sure, it seemed like something that would be part of a normal father-daughter relationship. We weren’t normal, or weren’t, and now…. I might have been in another headspace, but somehow we grew closer. I walked up to my room, took a shower and crawled under my covers. “Please, just let me have a normal night.” I mumbled, and closed my eyes.

I was driving through the forest again. It was dark, the trees all looked the same. Every turn, it was the same trees. I glanced at the dashboard, the radio was back in place and the first verse of the song from earlier was blaring on repeat. The trees were a labyrinth, there was no way out. I slammed on the brakes, skidding on the wet pavement. Then I heard a branch snap and turned my head. And he was there, eyes crimson.

“Hello, Bella.” He sneered, I caught my reflection in the window. It was Grandma Marie’s face again. Blood dripped from his fangs. “I told you my world wasn’t for you.” He lunged and I woke up, my heart racing as I tried to catch my breath. I heard Dad shuffling by the door.

“Bella? You okay?” He called, he must have just gotten home, I glanced at my alarm clock, it blinked a one at me.

“Yeah, Dad, sorry, nightmare.” I called back. “Go to bed, I’m alright.”

He grunted, but I heard him shuffle to his room. What was he doing until 1AM? He used to work late when I was younger, I remember a few nights when he was home by ten, but this, something was going on. I laid on my back and closed my eyes. I just hoped that what was keeping him at work late wasn’t of the same nature as that keeping me awake.