#eventually when this brain fog i found out this morn is being caused by my migraine meds lifts a little im gonna write at length about them

[lostandbackagain]

resa and dustfinger never fail to make me scream. she's on a rescue mission for her husband but finds dustfinger's body and just puts her face against his and goes "I should die here too" GIRL

[kieraelieson]

Can Contentment be Bad?

Oh look, I’m writing another weird essay thing in the wee hours of the morning. ~Insomnia~

This will involve details of my childhood, which may be triggering to people with similar experiences. Open the read-more with this knowledge.

My mother was a staunch Christian. She believed that in what she read in the Bible, happiness was never promised. However, Christians were commanded to contentment, and if they could manage that, they would be rewarded with joy (something somehow different and better than happiness, in a nebulous way).

Now her life was Hard. She had an abusive mother she grew up under, and barely had she left her when she met a man she would marry and would discover to be an abusive husband. She lived in poverty, and had eleven children, making the poverty much harder to cope with. She overworked herself to the point of physical illness, and eventually death. Her life was one truly difficult to find contentment in.

But she believed that God told her she must find it. And that she must find it in a very particular manner. For instance, she could not demand or fight for a better situation for herself. She told a story often of the first time she learned this.

‘When I only had the first two of you kids we were living in a trailer. The room we had you in was so tiny we couldn’t open the dresser drawers fully cause they ran into the baby bed, and I had to slide my way in and out sideways to get you in the mornings. Now I never wanted to live in the trailer, so one day I told your father, “I will not have another baby living in this!” And I heard God say to me, “Oh, what was that? You won’t?” And sure enough, your little sister was nine months old when we finally moved out.’

So she believed that her contentment must be found without altering her situation. Her ultimate solution ended up being twofold.

First, she began regularly reading books about martyrs, and about Christian missionaries that became prisoners of war or were otherwise in horrific, life threatening situations. She read them herself and aloud to us, comparing the horrors they survived to her life, and measuring her hardships as small in comparison.

Secondly, she ignored things too negative to accept. This started intentionally, and grew to become subconscious, and she forgot that she had ever done it. She began to get brain fog, and gaps in her memory. Often one of us would come to her, asking for help with Dad, he had hurt us, and had been doing so for a while. Her eyes would go wide and fill with tears. ‘He’s been doing what? I haven’t seen it.’ But in a day she would have forgotten again. She couldn’t stand to know her children were being hurt, so she didn’t.

I remember having a friend, and in one of the rare times we had a long conversation, she told me about what her parents did to her. I was horrified and enraged, recognizing the different abuse for what it was. I told Mom, seething. But she answered me very calmly.

“You need to be really careful not to hurt your friend.”

“Hurt my friend?! I want to hit her parents, not her!”

“If you talk badly about someone’s parents, and you’re correct about it, it could hurt them very badly. They could then see the badness in their parents for what it is. They’ll lose any contentment they had in their situation and just start fighting. Then they might slip into rebellion, and both their parents and God will be fighting them back. All because you made them aware of how bad their parents are.”

At the time, I believed Mom.

Now? I regret so badly not having told my friend how angry I was on her behalf. How much I hated what her parents did to her. How it was clear and horrific abuse. How someone needed to tell the authorities.

How a good life should be fought for.

It was several years later that I got a few therapy sessions with a wonderful therapist. I told her of my struggles with hopelessness, escapism, and dissociation.

She gave me the best advice I think anyone could have ever given me.

“Pick something, anything, that you know you can do that would be a bright spot in a day.”

At that point in time, I could drive, and knew the location of a nearby Sonic. I suggested I could get myself an ice cream.

“That works perfectly. Start doing that, say every Friday evening. Every single one you can, go get yourself that ice cream.”

I certainly wasn’t going to pass up ice cream, but I wanted to understand the why.

“Your life is very dark and difficult, so much that you can hardly stand living in it. So you need some bright spots. This is your first goal. Once you’ve got it down, we’ll add in another. And once you can manage a few things that could brighten a day, I’m going to have you plan things within your control that could brighten up a week, or a month, or a year. The ultimate goal is to change whatever you can to make your life worth living.”

I started getting ice cream. Then I bought myself a coloring book and began coloring on occasion. I already read fanfiction, but I began pursuing friendships with the people who wrote the stories I liked. I prioritized texting my new friends. I even planned and pulled off a meeting with some in person.

Finally, I made the biggest leap ever. I left my abusive home to live with my boyfriend.

Now, I remember her advice when I slip into depression.

I make small bright spots: I’ve started adding cheezits to my grocery orders. I play video games a few times a week that make me happy. I have a few creative hobbies, and I make time to do a little of one of them every day.

I make medium bright spots: I plant and water seeds so that I can watch the flowers grow. I’m working with a group to make an audio drama. I go on dates with my partners.

And I make bigger goals that will brighten my life considerably: I’m saving up for a new laptop that can handle the editing programs I want to use. I’m planning and looking forward to a house with a larger yard one day. I’m working on painting my apartment in brighter, happier colors.

Life gets better. And true contentment and happiness is fought for and won.

[fightxxmexxshiggy]

HOT DAY AND A TIRED MAN

This fic is dedicated to @lovelyladyraven for being my first ever paid commission.

Shouta Aizawa x fem reader

Tw:dangerous situation, breeding, OVERSTIMULATION

Word count: 3.5k

This was not how you had planned to spend your day. Your boss had decided that the roof needed to be cleaned on the second hottest day this summer! Of course you were the only one who had just finished up their task so he sent you to do it by yourself with a promise of sending the next available person up to switch with you soon. Instead you had spent two hours cleaning up dirt and shining the vents on a roof that no one but maintenance workers ever set foot on! Once you had seen how much time had passed you went to the door with every intention of stomping down the stairs and clocking out, not willing to do overtime just to clean a roof. But the knob wouldn't turn no matter how hard you pulled. You banged on the door a few times only to realize that one of the idiots that you work with had locked the door. Quickly you took out your phone and called the store phone no answer, then your boss's phone no answer, then you called the two other coworkers who had been working with you today. Not a single person answered you! You went over to the side of the building that looked over the parking lot seeing that all their cars were already gone from their usual spots. The bastards had left for the day and left you locked on the roof with no way to go home or even get water. You tried for another 30 minutes to reach your boss and coworkers only for them to start rejecting your calls. They did this on purpose. You went and sat in the shade of the roof door access and took a few calming breaths. You knew that they weren't going to come back until tomorrow and you also knew that they probably expected you to sit up here and cry waiting till morning for them to come and "save" you. So instead you looked up the number for the local fire department. Once someone picked up you heard a deep gravelly voice through the speaker. 

"Fire station 6 what can I help you with?" 

The man seemed tired and kind of put out but instead of apologizing for bothering him like your brain was screaming at you to do, you cleared your throat and spoke. You gave him a detailed rundown of your situation and explained that you would have called the emergency line first except your boss's wife worked the police directory and if he was locking you on the roof like this you were afraid that his wife would just not send anyone to help you. It was a small town and things like that were constantly looked over as long as you knew the right people. He hummed in agreement.

" That's sad but true. I know your boss and his wife well enough that you're probably 100 percent right about what they would do and how they would cover this up. They've done it before. Me and a few guys will be there in about 20 minutes to come get you down. Just keep calm and do your best to stay out of the sun until then we don't need you getting any more dehydrated than you already are."

He gave a quick goodbye and hung up. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that you had chosen correctly when you called the fire station. You sat in the shade and tried to put a face to the voice of the tired firefighter who would be coming to free you from your rooftop prison. Like a fool you had never asked his name. As you thought about it you started to get a bit lightheaded. It had definitely been too long since you had any water. The heat was starting to get to you now that your adrenaline had stopped pumping so hard. With nothing else to do you layed down as much in the shade as you could and did a breathing exercise. During your exercise you must have blacked out because the next thing you knew you were being carried down the stairs in a set of strong arms. 

The person carrying you was speaking to you but you couldn't make out what they were saying over the fog that was covering your brain. You knew the sound of that voice though. It was the tired firefighter but he sounded a whole lot less tired and a whole lot more angry. You really hoped he wasn't angry at you. Maybe you were too heavy and he was annoyed at having to lug you down the stairs. With a weak hand you reached up maybe to apologize somehow, but ended up cupping his cheek. His stubble felt funny in your already funny feeling hand. He stopped walking at the feeling of your hand on his face. You still couldn't open your eyes so instead you mumbled a garbled sorry and proceeded to pass back out going limp. The last thing you heard was the tired firefighter yelling at someone, maybe you?

You woke up again this time to the feeling of something plastic on your face. Opening your eyes was still a bit too much for you so you listened and tried to figure out what was going on. You vaguely remember the tired voice you had spoken to before you felt light headed and the feeling of being carried. As you listened you could make out the sounds of machines. Slowly you took stock of your body. You were sore and kinda warm but you could move a little bit. You breathed deeply, finally realizing that the plastic was an oxygen tube. You were definitely in the hospital then. After a few more minutes your eyes were in good enough condition that you opened them to look around the room. When you did you saw someone slumped in the chair in the corner. This was incredibly strange since you had no family in this town. Doing your best you cleared your throat preparing to ask who they were. At your sound the person's head shot up, eyes wide. 

It was a man with tired eyes and long black hair that was on the scruffy side; it easily matched the stubble of a beard on his chin and cheeks. He stood up definitely tall enough to tower over you even when you were standing up yourself. The man walked to your bedside and took a deep breath before speaking. 

"It's good to see you awake little one. I was beginning to think you weren't going to wake up. I'm the firefighter you spoke to asking for help when you were on the roof. I have a lot to explain to you but I'm gonna call the doctor in and have them look you over before anything else."

He called out into the hall after that and a doctor and a nurse bustled into the room within minutes. Your throat was too dry to answer their questions so you stuck to little nods and head shakes as they began to check your vitals and adjust your iv drip. Once they were sure you were stable enough you were once again left with your savior and no voice to thank him with. He came closer and pulled the chair along with him to settle in for your conversation. 

"So you've been out of it for about 3 days. You got sunstroke while you were on the roof and your boss had double locked the door to get in and the door to the roof which slowed us down in getting to you. Your boss and his wife and your 2 coworkers have all been arrested. It was your boss's idea though apparently he kept hitting on you but you didn't give him the time of day so he wanted to teach you a lesson. His wife had your name flagged so that if you had called for help it would have given a dispatcher a notification to ignore you as a false reporter. His wife found out about his interest in you and was planning on making sure you were stuck on that roof all night. Your coworkers just went along with it because they didn't want to deal with your boss's anger."

Hearing all this pissed you off beyond belief. They could have killed you all because you would be a man's mistress and the man's wife would rather hurt someone than confront her husband. He looked at your face and patted your knee knowing there was nothing he could say that would make you feel any better about this. You looked up at him and grabbed his hand and brought it to your forehead, touching his knuckles there before placing a kiss on them. You were kind of happy that you couldn't really talk just yet because the blush on this man's cheeks was well worth the dry throat. He poured you a cup of water and handed it to you. You gave him a small smile and drank it gratefully. 

Eventually you could speak some and the two of you formally introduced yourselves. He was Shouta Aizawa, the fire station chief and local fire safety instructor for this area. He hadn't felt right leaving you alone after he had gotten you off the roof and found that you lived alone in this town. He came off very blunt and serious but you could see his deep kindness in his actions. The doctors came back in, cutting your conversation short and making Shouta go back to his spot in the corner. After a few more checks the doctors cleared you to go home the following day as long as you had someone to watch over you for the next three days till your follow up appointment was. You frowned cause you did have any close friends who could do that for you. As you pondered over it you heard Shouta's voice over the doctor's. 

"If you don't have a problem I can have you stay over in the guestroom at my house. I was already on a temp leave due to watching over you here so it wouldn't be much different with you at my house."

This man with a deep whiskey voice truly had a heart of gold. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth you readily agreed. After you had been up a few more hours and had a little bit to eat, Shouta left with the promise of a freshly cleaned room waiting for you tomorrow. You fell asleep that night feeling more cared for than you ever truly had. You woke up again slightly disoriented and thirsty but in much better condition than you had been the day prior. It was early so you took your time shaking the numbness out of your limbs and getting back your bearings. The nurse came in fussing about you standing with calling anyone to be a catcher for you. She stopped fussing though when she realized that you were indeed stable enough to walk to the bathroom alone. 

Shouta had called the nurses station around 10 to let them know he'd be there by 12. With a few puppy dog looks you had a shower chair and an orderly who helped wash your hair and walk you back to bed. They had given you some hospital pajamas that you happily wore instead of the ugly gowns you had woken up in. You were clean and relaxed by the time Shouta had arrived to sign you out of the hospital. A nurse came around with a wheelchair and wheeled you down to the exit while the car was brought around. Shouta opened the door for the backseat but instead of giving you a hand to climb in he leaned down and scooped you out of the chair. Once you had been sat comfortably on the seat he shut the door leaving you with a moment to appreciate just how strong his arms were.

The drive to Shouta's home was relatively quick as is the way of small towns. His house was nice and seemed to be a cozy ranch style. After pulling into the garage you tried to get out yourself only to be caught up against a hard chest as your legs gave out the moment they were made to take your full weight. You looked up to see an exasperated glare. Part of your brain filled with chastised thoughts as the other filled with dirty thoughts. You really had to be better behaved when It came to your savior and benefactor but with him being so sinfully attractive it was kinda hard to do. Once again you were carried by the tired man this time into his home and deposited on the lone couch in his living room. He sat on his coffee table and faced you with a sigh. 

"You're really gonna have to rely on me for a few days brat. Your body is trying to heal and you pushing it as you just did isn't doing the process any favors."

You sighed and agreed with him. After a short conversation about a few things you might need from the store and checking about any food allergies he got ready and  headed to the store. You sat alone watching tv before clicking into his YouTube app to see what he watched most. A loud laugh burst from your chest as you realized that most of his watch history was full of cat videos and a few interviews with a local late night radio host. You watched the radio hosts videos thoroughly entertained by his boisterous personality. The next thing you knew you were being shaken awake by Shouta having fallen asleep with videos still playing on the tv. He helped you up and walked you to the bathroom and waited outside before scooping you up yet again. He was making it so damn hard not to think dirty thoughts when he kept carrying you around as if you were a small animal or something. Like sir the butterflies are in the stomach now but they will quickly fly south if you keep being so quietly sexy. A few hours later you were lying in bed when your thoughts finally got the best of you and had you touching your pussy as images of Shouta glaring down at you with his arms crossed showed behind your eyelids.

You had no idea how loud you were being as you rubbed your clit harshly, trying to get to the finish line. As you came you choked out his name. While you panted and came down from your high Shouta made his way back to his room quietly. He leaned back against his door and made a call before laying in his bed to jerk his very hard, very neglected cock. His brain kept replaying the sounds you made, the way you choked out his name as you came, how a satisfied little smile curled on your lips after you reached the finish line. He came with a growl, satisfied but not. He was definitely going to end up in trouble by the end of the week and he couldn't find it in himself to care. The following two days followed the same pattern, spending the day together and spending the night getting off to thoughts of the other in separate rooms. Though you were surprised to find that Shouta regularly walked around the house in nothing but sweatpants holding a full mug of coffee. On the fourth day you had become well enough to no longer need to be carried or walked everywhere. You were a little confused by Shouta's attitude as he had been glaring at the space above your head for most of the day. Finally tired of him doing this, you confronted him about it. You were not expecting his answer in the slightest. 

"I've spent the last three nights hearing you play with your pussy while calling my name, I'm hard enough to hammer nails and I can't get out any over this energy cause I'm supposed to be watching out for you. All I wanna do is fuck you till you lose your mind. me glaring above your head has been me doing my best not to seduce you like an asshole."

He said everything in such a deadpan manner that you couldn't help but laugh. Once you caught your breath you grinned at him and pulled your shirt off over your head. Sitting on his couch with your tits hanging free and your nipples hardening in the cool air you proceeded to play with them. You were immediately picked up and taken to his room before being dropped on the bed. Never let it be said that the tired man couldn't move fast as you were stripped of your remaining clothes before he stripped himself bare. He pulled you to the edge of his bed by your ankles and dropped to his knees, a fierce smile on his lips. 

"Been wanting to taste this bratty pussy for days. Bet it's as sweet as it looks."

His first lick was long. From your hole all the way over your clit. The squeak you let out at the feeling only made him more hungry. He spent what felt like an endless amount of time licking and thrusting his tongue as deep into your pussy as he could. By the time he finally gave your clit some much needed attention his chin was covered in pussy juice and your hole was fluttering as if it was seeking to be filled. Shouta teased you with a few small licks over your clit, making you whine and beg him to give you more. His arms wrapped around your thighs as he locked eyes with you and sucked your clit into his mouth. He sucked hard making you scream and thrash wildly. Your hands were buried in his hair as you squirted into his mouth. Your hips only stayed on the bed because of his strong arms keeping you in place. When he finally released your clit pussy juice was steadily leaking from your still twitching hole. 

"Oh did I break you already? You were so bold before and now you're just a mess. Think you can take my cock or do you want me to tuck you in for a nap."

The shit eating grin on his face was enough for you to pull his hair and glare at him. He sat up and shoved your wrists above your head to hold in one of his large hands. Slowly he worked his fat dripping cock into your almost too tight pussy. You whined and moaned his name as he finally bottomed out hitting your back wall. He stretched you more than you ever had been before but it was so damn good. Shouta started slow, one hand gripping your thigh as he ignored your demands for him to speed up.

"You're gonna take what I give you like a good girl or I'll just pull out and cum all over you right now."

That shut you up except for the constant stream of moans that left your throat. Just as you were finally getting used to being split by such a thick cock he changed his rhythm. Fast pounding thrusts that knocked the breath from your lungs were nearly constant. You didn't have enough breath to scream so you sobbed. Your half words were incoherent except for "sho please." Shouta leaned down and whispered in your ear as his thrusts once again spread up. He bit your ear lobe before making you lose your mind. 

"Such a tight little hole. I can't believe I had the strength to ignore it for three days. I could have at least eaten it while you laid back and rested. God I'm gonna have you for breakfast tomorrow." 

The utter heat in his words threw you over the edge making you cum so hard you began to shake. He growled as your pussy clenched down on him. Shouta sunk his teeth into the pillow by your head before shoving his cock against your cervix and shooting his cum against it. As soon as he finished cuming he started to thrust again. No slow start this time, just hard pounding thrusts that made you wail in pleasure. It didn't take long for you to cum again but Shouta lasted longer this time entirely fucking his cum out of you before finally cuming inside again just as deep as the first time. 

He pulled out and laid down next to you before pulling you on to his chest. You both panted trying to breathe like normal human beings again. Right as your breathing evened out you heard a voice from the doorway. And looked up to see the blonde radio host trailing his eyes over the two of you.

"I told you you wouldn't make it till I got home sho."

[hanatiny]

[4:04] Heart Not Found

a/n // disclaimer: I’d like to make it clear that I neither condone nor endorse any of the behavior described in this fic. Each of the characters acknowledges that it is beyond unacceptable and unjustified; this is merely meant to be an experimental look at the psychological processes within a yandere’s mind. Furthermore, this work is purely fictional and I do not claim to personally know exactly how any of the ateez members behave.

a/n: If there’s anything potentially triggering that I have forgotten to list in the warnings, please let me know and I’ll fix my mistake asap!! thank you <3

pairing: yandere!San x genderneutral!reader x pianist!boyfriend!Hongjoong

genre: angst

word count: 2602

warnings: non-idol AU, murder, descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood and death, mentions of knives, San is highly obsessive in this, he threatens the reader but doesn’t actually hurt them, kidnapping, trespassing, swearing, I did my best to keep the violence as vague as possible

-----

It was around 3am and you had yet to return home, and to say San was unnerved about this fact would be a massive understatement.

It wasn’t unusual for you to get home when it was already dark outside but it was never after midnight, much less in the early morning hours it was approaching now.

San tapped his fingers against the glass of his window anxiously as he watched the streets below attentively. You had turned off your phone a while ago, or at least that was the conclusion he drew after he stopped getting a signal from the tracker he had secretly managed to install on your phone.

3:12... why weren't you home yet?

His jaw went tense when he finally caught sight of you a few excruciatingly long minutes later, and he absolutely fumed as he saw you holding hands with another man he had never seen before in his life- he paused.

He did recognize the man, as none other than the pianist Kim Hongjoong who had been gaining quite a bit of popularity in the recent months. Kim Hongjoong, who he had gone to high school with until the older dropped out to focus on his career instead.

San didn't care much for that though, because a pretty face and a talent like Hongjoong's didn't mean he could love and care for you like you deserved it.

San believed that only he could give you everything you needed and wanted, and everything beyond that. Which was exactly why he was seeing red, punching the wall next to himself angrily. It caused his knuckles to bleed from the force behind the action, but the rage he felt overshadowed his pain.

Why didn’t you realize you were destined to be his and his alone? That you shouldn’t go whoring yourself out to other men? That only he should be the one to hold you in his arms, the one to protect you from everyone and everything.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t feel his attraction to you, why you insisted on turning a blind eye to him and found him “weird.” That’s what he assumed to be the case, at the very least.

San loved you, why was that so damn difficult for you to understand?

His narrowed eyes flickered over to the knife resting on his bedside table, and he had it clutched tightly in his bleeding hand within the blink of an eye.

He darted down the stairs without a second thought, blinded by the rage he felt deep within himself.

Meanwhile, outside, you were hugging your boyfriend goodbye for the night. His dark eyes shone innocently as he kissed your nose affectionately, causing you to giggle while still having your hands intertwined.

“So I’ll pick you up at 10 tomorrow for brunch, yeah?”

“Sounds good, Hongjoongie~ I’ll see you then.” You playfully blew him a kiss before he turned and walked off into the night, rounding the corner shortly after.

It was San’s time to strike, using your distracted state of mind to creep up behind you and tightly wrap an arm around your torso while he held the knife to your throat in warning.

You didn’t recognize his voice at first when he whispered into your ear, your brain much too clouded from the feeling of fear filling you, “If you make any sound at all, I’ll personally slit your throat and cut your vocal cords. You don’t want to lose an angelic voice such as yours, do you~?”

Realizing your situation was hopeless due to the unexpected amount of strength the man holding you possessed, you stopped trying to kick him and wrestle yourself free. This was the only answer he needed, starting to take slow and deliberate steps backwards from your house over to his. His hold on you remained tight, borderline suffocating even, just in case you would dare to get bold and try something.

He had left his door slightly ajar, kicking it shut behind him once he had finally brought you inside of his living space.

You still found yourself unable to figure out the identity of the man who had burst into your comfort zone out of nowhere but you didn’t want to find out what he was capable of doing to you if you attempted to resist whatever he was in the process of doing and pinpoint who he was, considering the amount of ease with which he snuck up and took hold of you just a few minutes ago.

Casually dropping his knife onto a nearby cupboard, he led you down the hallway of his house to a spacious bedroom. It was then a figurative lightbulb went off in your head and the fog clouding your mind cleared, upon seeing certain pieces of furniture he had placed in the room.

You had been here before. You had been in this house before when he had just moved in and his furniture was all over the place, he was the ‘cute neighbor’ who had offered you some coffee and invited you over to ‘get to know each other a little.’ Now all you needed to do was remember his name- it clicked. You remembered.

His grip on you (probably purposely) loosening, you whirled around and took a few steps away from him. San didn’t seem all too fazed by it though, simply grinning knowingly at you and crossing his arms while you did your best to subtly gain proper awareness of your surroundings.

It seemed like he noticed, however, because that was when he finally spoke up again.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to recognize me, love. You know who I am, don’t you~?” His tone was so calm that it unsettled you to the point of having to avert your eyes, your head hanging low as you nodded hesitantly, hardly even noticing his use of the pet name.

“I knew it...~” San’s voice trailed off into a purr that you weren’t sure how to feel about, deciding that being wary was likely the smartest thing you could do in your current situation.

Too lost in thought, you didn’t realize he had stepped closer to you while you were internally debating with yourself, pleased that you seemed to remember what he said about speaking.

“Now, I have something to take care of for a little bit... I trust that you’ll be good and not leave this room.” Although a smile was painted on his features, it didn’t make his tone sound any less threatening. Not willing to find out what might happen if you didn’t react, you nodded once more.

“That’s my good dove~” All of it disgusted you - from the way he cooed at you, over the way his lips twitched upwards into a grin, to the way he looked at you like you were the only person in this twisted world.

You hated it and yet there you stood, in the middle of this sicko’s bedroom, frozen with uncertaintly and fear. You only scarcely resisted the urge to punch him in the face, watching closely as he left a few moments later and closed the door behind himself.

You heard him lock it as well, heaving a shaky sigh when you believed him to be out of earshot.

Your body shook with rage, how did he have the audacity to just kidnap you like that and walk away like he didn’t commit a goddamn felony? Your first instinct was to break something, and you figured that the window might be the first best thing - just in case it’d give you an opportunity to escape.

Looking around, you were quick to find a small hammer in a drawer. You swung it against the glass with every bit of force you could muster, only for the object in your hand to bounce back without leaving even so much as a crack. Dumbfounded by the fact that San had even reinforced his windows to keep you from leaving him, clearly having planned this for a while, you dropped the hammer next to you and sank to your knees.

You curled in on yourself, sobs wracking your body as you were forced to come to terms with the reality that you were trapped. Trapped in this room, trapped with your not-so-innocent-and-sweet neighbor.

Meanwhile, San’s steps were hurried as he sought out your boyfriend’s house, knife in hand while he occasionally glanced at his phone. It probably wasn’t very smart of Hongjoong to have his personal address publicized for fan mail purposes, considering how easily it could be exploited by people like San.

He should’ve been freezing out in the cold air at 3:35 in the very early morning, but the blood practically boiling in his veins kept him from being affected by it much. It was almost too easy for him to trespass onto the desired property when he finally reached it, breaking the lock on the door effortlessly with the blade of his knife.

Hongjoong had a habit of staying up as late as it was humanly possible, and it was rather common knowledge that he sometimes didn’t even sleep at all. As such, San was not the least bit surprised to faintly hear someone playing the piano when he stepped into the house as quietly as he could.

He followed the sound, eventually coming to a large room filled with a variety of instruments of different sizes. In the middle was, as San had to begrudgingly admit, a beautiful piano. Its seat was occupied by his very target, Hongjoong, who was aware of the younger man’s presence and let his fingers press against the black and white keys once more.

The sound the action produced was so disharmonious that it made San physically cringe as he stared the young pianist down, the latter of whom finally lifting his head with a deep, exasperated sigh.

“This is about y/n, isn’t it? I’ve noticed the way you look at-”

“You saw nothing! You know nothing! Do you have any fucking clue how painful it is to see the one you love with someone else, to not even have them spare you a single glance because of how little they care about you?” San was furious at this point, blinded by his rage, Hongjoong flinching and recoiling in his seat at the harsh tone employed by the other male as he continued, “I know you don’t. You were always the prodigy and excelled at what you did, got everything you wanted so easily... including the one thing I wanted too. I can’t live with that, and neither will you.”

“I-I didn’t- That’s not-” Hongjoong stammered, trying to defend himself before quickly realizing it was a futile endeavor when he saw San lunging at him with his knife clutched tightly in his hand. His reflexes were fast as he tried to reach for a nearby violin to whack the latter unconscious with but the crazed younger was, to his demise, much faster and pinned him to the surface of his piano while the keys beneath him produced another dissonant sound.

It didn’t exactly help that San was not only taller but also more muscular than Hongjoong, so the latter’s tries to wiggle and struggle free were for nothing. He groaned in pain as the wooden edges of his instrument forcefully dug into his skin; he clawed at it, but to no avail. He had no chance against San.

Despite knowing how hopeless it was for himself, Hongjoong refused to go down without a fight and proceeded kick and scream in San’s hold, “You’re making a huge m-mistake-”

His vision spun before going black, his pleas going silent while his body went limb. Everything stopped, except for San. He continued to stab and mutilate the older until he deemed it enough and was satisfied, stepping backwards after. He got what he came here for. Taking a quick picture with his phone to show to both you and the police what had taken place (although he’d come up with an alibi for the authorities, of course), he backtracked his steps and left the house as fast as his feet would take him.

Still under the safe and dark blanket of the night, he made his way back to his own house. Making sure to hide the bloody knife where no one would find it, he cleaned himself off briefly before he got an idea for how he could use the ‘souvenir’ he brought for you.

You jumped slightly in your spot on San’s bedroom, curled up and hiding your face behind your knees even now, when you heard him slam the front door shut which signalled you that he had returned from whatever he was out doing. You feared the worst as you listened carefully, presuming the noise he was making to be coming from his kitchen.

You looked up when the bedroom door clicked open and San entered, a smug and satisfied grin on his face as he moved to set a jar on the bedside table before crouching in front of you.

“I’m home, bunny. Did you miss me~?” His falsely innocent, sweet tone was still something you despised, although you felt genuine fear for what he could do to you simply by looking at the tiny smudge of blood lingering on his cheek, so you nodded obediently.

“Good. I just had to have a little chat with your pretty boy, and look what he gave me~!” San cheerfully nudged his head towards the bedside table, and the sight you were met with made you feel sick to your stomach.

What you assumed to be Hongjoong’s bloody heart. In a jar. You kept glancing back and forth between him and the object, gaping at him in both shock and disbelief of what he had done.

“What do you think of it, love? Pretty, isn’t it~? Go on, tell me.” He encouraged you softly, "You told him he had your heart right? Now you have his forever!” He chirped, and your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“Y-you monster!” You exclaimed, cursing yourself internally for your stuttering as you cursed at him, “You heartless bastard, you didn’t have to kill him!”

“I didn’t want to kill him,” he admitted softly, looking down as if he felt any sense of remorse for any of his actions within the last hour or so, “but he left me no choice. He refused to break up with you. He refused to let me love you without... all this.” He gestured vaguely, pulling out his phone to show you the photo he took, “He refused to let me have even one thing I wanted for myself, even though he always got whatever he wished for. Desperate times require desperate measures, I had no choice...”

San trailed off, your own face paling at the realization that Hongjoong had been murdered because of a petty rivalry of sorts from the past that San had yet to let go of.

Feeling lightheaded by the abundance of information swimming in your already aching head, you blacked out. When you came to your senses again, it appeared to be morning and San was making noise in another room.

Tears wet your face as you shakily reached for your phone, wishing you hadn’t because the very first notification you opened was a headline you had prayed wouldn’t be reality, accompanied by the very picture San had taken the previous night.

“Up and coming pianist Kim Hongjoong brutally murdered in his home last night; investigations still ongoing”

----- Taglist (tell me if you wanna be added):

@cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva  @galaxteez @innosintsan @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx​ @twancingyunhoe​  @vocalyunho @yunhoiseyecandy​

Network tag:

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[myketheartista]

The Masquerade: How They Came To Be

This is a small headcanon type of thing that I thought of the morning after the stream, so I’m obviously obsessed with these two so much to the point where I made lore for how Sir Billiam and his butler met. To make things easier on myself, I just called the butler Ranboo since I didn’t want to mess too much with canon by giving him a new name. 

***Warnings: Light violence, mentions of killing/death, manipulation (from the egg, but just thought I’d include it just in case)***

**Please remember that this is not canon. I took some liberties and assumed a few things based on prior knowledge. Oh, and don’t take things out of context. This is NOT shipping, and I’m putting this here because I know some people will question the way I write them interacting. I don’t condone any shipping with Ranboo or Techno, and that goes for any and all characters they play.

Please enjoy! And leave your thoughts if you’d like :)

Billiam finds the egg. Builds the mansion around it to keep it safe and hidden because it seems like something bizarre enough that could earn him a good sum of money. Sell pieces of it, get rich, live a long, good life swimming in wealth.

He wants to see what it does too, but the more time he spends with it, the more corrupts his mind becomes. Soft whispers that scratch at the walls of his head, telling him to give-- give himself, give others, just give to the egg. And in the beginning stages, it isn’t so bad. He just sees the egg as something valuable. Value slowly transitions into a sort of obsession. He must protect it, feed it, take care of it so no one else will hurt it. If he helps the egg, it’ll help him.

So when he finds a young boy wandering through the endless sea of trees surrounding his estate, he grows a bit defensive. It’s just some random kid, an inch or two shorter than Billiam with messy chocolate brown hair and a dazed look in his eyes (Oh, and he’s definitely lower than a commoner, just look at the mess he is!). Tattered clothes, no shoes, patches of dirt dusting his face and hands; he’s an awful sight. But a peculiar one at best with the notable pointed ears and extra set of canines fitted snug next to the original pair. Whatever he is, Billiam knows that he isn’t a threat, and he can recognize that much through the fog clouding his brain telling him to get rid of this unwelcomed stranger. More than anything, he pities him, and a frown crosses his lips when he tries to get some answers out of the kid, but he’s met with a confused tilt of the head and awkward silence. Well, by observing his overall condition, Billiam concludes that he has no where to go.

So...he takes him in. Not because he cares! He really shouldn’t and doesn’t care for someone of such low status, but seeing Ranboo scarf down a whole plate of whatever Billiam could find along with some cake and a few glasses of water makes him feel a bit uneasy...about- about how much food he can eat, yes, of course. If he’s going to be staying here, he can’t go around eating everything they have. He’ll have to set some ground rules for this new guest. Such as throwing out those old clothes and giving him one of his own dress shirts and a well-made vest he never ended up wearing. Ranboo asks him for help with his tie much too often, and that’s something that should aggravate him, (inability to do anything on his own, how annoying) but he finds himself walking Ranboo through the process each time he’s called for. All the while, as he helps this kid learn the ropes and shows him around, those harsh whispers demand he stop. Get rid of him. He stares at Ranboo, the boy who can’t even speak the language of this planet, can’t remember where he came from, hates eye contact and taking showers, doesn’t even know what he is, and he wonders how the egg could even tell him to kill someone as innocent as him.

Billiam decides he’ll be his butler. Ranboo doesn’t protest since he doesn’t even know what a butler is, but he agrees without complaint. Some conversation over dinner that turned into a fake contract that neither of them signed, but Billiam made the deal that Ranboo can stay if he does his part which was simply obeying him when he asked for the butler. This...quickly got out of hand. Whenever there’s a party and a handful of guests crowd through the front doors, Billiam makes it known that he has a butler, and a very bad one at that. Calls him in that sing-song voice and requests he fetch their new arrivals some wine only to degrade him and claim he’s going a week without food afterwards. Ranboo really doesn’t mind, partially because he can’t even refuse or talk back due to the limitations of his knowledge of the unfamiliar language of this place, but he’s also become a bit dedicated to serving Billiam. The man practically saved his life and gave him everything he could want. When he is allowed to speak, he’s always asking how many words since that’ll guide him towards forming a more accurate sentence with letters and syllables he’s not used to. More often than not, he sticks to humming his responses to make it easier on himself. Even then, there’s not much to worry about. He’s bad with social interaction and the guests rarely pay attention to him, so he often hides in the corner as they all participate in their games and conversations regarding the economy. The more he excludes himself, the more he misses the frequent disappearances of the guests. He never questions Billiam where they went, why they left so early into the evening, why the mansion has terrible lighting problems, (they should get that fixed, it’s quite troublesome) he just enjoys the eventual peace and quiet that fills their home once everyone is gone. 

The parties increase throughout the months that Ranboo resides there. It’s exhausting being a butler when all he’s required to do is follow people’s orders-- how does Billiam do it? He’s the one who hosts them, greets everyone, plans the festivities and everything. He should ask him about that sometime. Instead of pestering him, he finds himself watching from the stairs as Billiam catches up with yet another group of friends. Hm...why doesn’t he just invite the same people over? Being rich must make you a lot of friends. But these people seem snobby and annoying. Ranboo doesn’t like them very much. He prefers to stay the way he is, and if that means he remains a “commoner”, then so be it. Billiam, on the other hand, doesn’t mind stepping into a new character every time he hosts one of these masquerades. The weird airy sound to his voice makes him appear friendlier, more trustworthy, but it always makes Ranboo put a fist to his mouth to stifle his laughter. It’s utterly ridiculous and almost childish, but it’s entertaining nonetheless.

He enjoys the soft conversations they share in their far too big of a home when things are back to normal (And when did he start calling it their home?). They usually pass the time by Ranboo asking questions and Billiam responding to the best of his ability which makes him seem smarter than he probably is. But for someone who can’t seem to remember where they came from or how to communicate, Ranboo is grateful for anything Billiam can give him.

So one night, when he thinks they’ve grown close enough to where Ranboo can consider them friends, he wanders the mansion to find Billiam-- wants to ask him something, but he’s nowhere to be found. It’s been months since he’s lived here, and he thinks he knows every nook and cranny of the mansion but…the longer he stares at that duplicate of a spider painting Billiam apparently commissioned someone to make despite the same painting hanging just a few feet over, he starts to feel an itch in the back of his mind. And when he finds the courage to move it aside, finds a secret entrance to a room he’s never seen before, he’s honestly baffled. The atmosphere of the room makes him feel off, and that itch starts to grow, manifests into a voice trying to peel through his thoughts and gain control. It makes him feel...uncomfortable…wrong. And when he sees Billiam standing at the end of the room, back facing him while he stares at a large red mass with vines trailing off of it, up the walls and across the floor tangling around Billiam’s feet, that discomfort shifts to something a little colder. He wanders into the room with light feet and a dry mouth, struggling to get his voice to work.

“Sir?”

The word doesn’t feel as foreign as other words do since it’s the one thing he’s gotten the hang of saying. He sees the visible tension build in Billiam’s shoulders and watches him turn around slowly to look at him, a chill trickling down his spine when he spots the sword in his hand. He gets no response, just a rather lifeless stare from Billiam. He speaks up again.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

It’s as if he was stuck in some sort of trance cause in an instant, a soft smile breaks out onto Billiam’s face and he gestures at Ranboo.

“What wonderful timing! Come closer, I’d like to show you something.”

Ranboo feels strange, but he pushes down the crippling sensation of dread pooling in his stomach and walks up to settle next to Billiam. He feels the light touch of a hand on his back, tensing up as he stares at the oddly shaped...something before them.

“What is this?”

Billiam looks so giddy when he hears the question.

“It’s the egg.”

And Ranboo breaks away from the “egg” to stare at Billiam.

“Pardon?”

Billiam looks at him, and it’s now that Ranboo notices the glint in his eye, the way his once brown irises swirl with red, and the look he gives him reminds him of the expression he wore when they first met.

Pity.

“My dear butler, it’s the egg! It’s a truly magnificent thing, is it not?”

And Ranboo can only stare awkwardly between the egg and the man who he’s lived with all of his life because what the hell is he going on about?

“I, uh,... I don’t seem to understand.”

Billiam’s expression softens, still holding that little ounce of pity that Ranboo has begun to dislike.

“You’ll understand soon enough. Come.”

And the hand on his back gently pushes him forward, guiding him as they walk, and Ranboo feels his heels involuntarily drag against the stone floor, putting up some resistance. That pool of dread begins to manifest into something else. An icy, prickling puddle of fear. Billiam is putting himself behind him as Ranboo draws closer to the egg, and the whispering only grows louder, clawing at his brain and sending a jolt of pain to his skull as it screams at him. It’s becoming too much, it hurts, but Billiam’s hand seems to latch onto the back of his vest, twisting and pushing him downwards just inches from the egg to where he’s on his knees and his hands are planted on the cold concrete below him. He realizes, as goosebumps trail up his arms and his eyes begin to sting, that he’s never quite felt fear before up until now. He doesn’t like it too much. All he can do is stare at the red in front of him, watch as the little vines underneath his hands sprout up from the cracks of the floor and curl around his fingers. The grip on his vest tightens, and he’s painfully reminded who’s doing this to him.

“Do you hear it?”

He just nods, exhaling shakily and struggling to take in any air as the panic settles inside of his chest.

“It’s loud.” He voice wavers as it comes out weak and afraid, and he hears Billiam hum, pleased with the answer.

“What’s it saying?”

And he can’t respond because he doesn’t know, it’s speaking a language he’s never heard, he can’t translate it. He feels the urge to hurt, to kill, to follow, to obey, feels fingers digging into his brain and pulling him forward as if he understands what it’s saying after all, but it all seems like gibberish to him. He feels nothing but everything at once. The grip on his vest tugs lightly, and he swallows thickly.

“I...I don’t know.” 

He can practically feel the disappointment radiating off of Billiam when he gives the answer, and he suddenly regrets saying anything at all. He hears Billiam shift and the grip loosens by just a hair.

“Is he not worthy?” Billiam mutters to himself, but…it sounds like it’s directed to someone. Some thing. Ranboo doesn’t know, but it’s said so quietly and sounds…sad. After a few seconds of silence and Ranboo watching those tiny red vines curiously curl even more around his fingers and onto his hand in an attempt to travel up his wrist, he feels the hand leave his back. A sigh escapes him, and he goes to push himself off of the ground to sit on his knees, but a sharp pain quickly replaces the hand, breaking through the layers of fabric and grazing the skin of his back. A strangled noise crawls out of his throat and he ducks his head, trying to arch his back away from the tip of the sword angled towards him.

“Sir?” He sounds so pathetic, so desperate, he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions but he feels like he’s about to be killed by the man who took him in and that’s certainly not settling well in his stomach. Billiam remains silent and that’s what scares him because silence doesn’t seem like a good thing, especially in a situation such as this. The silence lasts for what seems like minutes, but he hears a frustrated huff come from behind him and the sword disappears from his back right when he thinks it’ll slip through him.

“Stand up.”

Ranboo is quick to obey, ignoring the trembling in his legs and wringing his hands together to calm the light shaking that’s taken over them. He hesitantly turns to look at Billiam who’s staring back at him with those red eyes that seem a bit duller this time around. He wants to back away when Billiam moves towards him, but his feet refuse to move and a hand comes down on his shoulder, gentle and somewhat comforting despite the situation.

“You don’t feel anything?”

It seems like he’s desperate now, looking for an answer that will settle the uncertainty bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, and red eyes beginning to lose their glow. Somewhat back to normal. Ranboo pauses for a long moment, hesitant, terrified, legs shaking and throat closing up at the thought of what Billiam will do if he receives an answer he isn’t particularly fond of.

“...No.”

It takes his entire body to force the word out because even though he was on his knees moments ago, pleading that he’d wake up, that this was just a very intense dream where everything felt too real for his liking, somewhere deep down he believes Billiam won’t be mad and kill him right where he stands. That expression only reassures him because it’s coming from the only person he knows to trust.

Billiam sighs again and looks down, a bit defeated, maybe even confused because what is he to do now? He can’t even go through with sacrificing this kid he’s grown a damn attachment to and that’s a problem. If he isn’t the one to admit it, the egg is there to remind him. His hand slides down Ranboo’s arm, hanging limply by his side as his voice grows quiet.

“Do you trust me?”

And Ranboo doesn’t have anything else to say but the immediate “Yes.” that follows. Billiam looks up at him, a bit surprised but gaze a tad softer than it was before.

“What was your name again?”

Ranboo’s hands wring together some more, and he mindlessly picks at the vines that have embedded themselves into his skin. He goes to speak, but his tongue falls differently against the roof of his mouth and clicks against his teeth in a way that Billiam won’t understand. And even though that ends up being true, Billiam still smiles at him and a trickle of warmth spreads throughout Ranboo’s chest.

“Just do as I say, and you’ll be fine.”

Ranboo can’t find it in him to defy what Billiam says.

So when he gives him the sword and tells him to kill the guests that enter their home, he does so without question. He follows his commands as gentle as they are, and he listens to the garbled whispering brushing the edges of his mind. And if his eyes appear a bit redder when he goes to look in the mirror, he doesn’t bring it up to Billiam. He still picks at those little red vines that have melded into his skin as he watches the larger vines of the egg curl around the bodies he’s dragged to this secret room, hidden away from any curious eyes. And throughout the ruthless killings and Ranboo’s slow descent into madness, Billiam continues to treat him the same way, apologizing later on for the small scar on his back. He simply shrugs the apology off and gives him a smile, dragging…what was his name again? James? The name rings a bell, but he disregards the vague feeling of guilt crawling its way into his chest and continues to drag him away by the legs.

Even when he goes back to get Karl and sees the edges of his body disintegrating into little white speckles of what looks like dust, he doesn’t question it or show Billiam. Delivers his body to the egg regardless of whatever strange deterioration Karl’s body was undergoing. Another party, another meal for the egg. As long as Billiam is happy, so is his loyal butler.

[hypnomicimagines]

Risk It All [Yamada Ichiro] [College AU]

Ichiro first fell in love with the back of your head.

He knew he should be listening to the professor droning on and on about some business policy that was likely going to be important in his future career but it was far too early in the morning for Ichiro to give a damn. You were leaning back in your chair which meant you were that much closer to him than normal and he was mesmerized, the notes on his paper just a mess of illegible scribbles that wouldn’t help him with any future test. But at least you smelled good and sometimes he’d get a glimpse of your face as you turned in your seat to talk to the person next to you, a small smile on your face; you’d even glimpse back at him when the lecture got too boring and roll your eyes.

The solidarity between two bored students made Ichiro feel special.

He didn’t think he was the shy type nor was he one to beat around the bush but there was something about you that made him nervous, too nervous to directly approach you as he would any other person, he was interested in. He’d been on a few dates since he’d gotten into college, focused more on his studies than having a good time, but when the need for human connection hit who was he to turn it down? He just had to give himself a pep talk, ask for your number, and he’d be on his way to… Well, he wasn’t sure where he’d be heading which was likely part of his hesitation. If you rejected him it sure would be awkward to have another month of classes together where you had to awkwardly pretend the creep behind you wasn’t constantly thirsting over you in his head.

“Just fuckin’ ask 'em,” Samatoki rolled his eyes at Ichiro’s predicament, “What are you waiting for? Some other asshole to swoop in and get them? If you want something, take it.”

“You act like it’s this simple thing…” Ichiro sighed, slamming his textbook shut at the table as no work would be getting done while you were on his brain.

“We could have a party or some shit,” Kuko offered up a helpful solution though the glint in his eye told Ichiro that there was some ulterior motive, not that his red-headed friend had ever been helpful without a catch like some sort of malicious genie. “Been overdue.”

Samatoki didn’t disagree and though their fourth roommate, Sasara, wasn’t around at the moment it was unlikely that he’d disagree. Sasara hated the silence and thrived on having an audience, the life of the party once he really got going, and generally the other guys had to watch out to assure he didn’t overdo it. Samatoki could handle that though as Ichiro had one goal in mind, get your number, and since it was such a simple task there’s no way it could get ruined, right?

Ichiro had a cup in his hand before he knew it.

He never really liked to drink but since he was technically of age he could, Kuko in the same boat as him. Samatoki and Sasara were the drinkers of the house, pointing out the best alcohols to buy and addressing the younger boys about the appropriate amounts to drink (and what alcohols not to mix). Ichiro’s nerves had been getting to him and after he was relentlessly teased by all three of his housemates, he had a red solo cup shoved in his hands.

“For your nerves,” Samatoki had stated as he took another drag of his cigarette, “Little bit won’t hurt you, don’t be a coward.”

Ichiro’s pride had been directly attacked, he couldn’t be a coward, not tonight, so he had done as he was instructed. Unfortunately, Samatoki hadn’t taken into account that Ichiro’s tolerance level wasn’t quite up to his standards, the alcohol soaking in even more as Ichiro had even been too nervous to eat before the party had started. His brain is in a fog as he searched you out, having invited you (and a few others around you in class) that day to come (you had said you’d love to go so he assumed that was a ‘yes I’ll be there!’). He’s trying not to stumble into other people as his eyes search the crowd, eventually landing on their target.

God, you looked so beautiful when you were all dressed up, wearing nice clothes that were a great contrast to the comfortable ones you preferred to wear to class. The true duality of beauty was appearing drop dead gorgeous no matter what you wore and Ichiro was positive he would’ve been enamored with you even if you wore a garbage bag and called in trash chic. He walked towards you without any hesitation, thinking for that split second that he was thankful for Samatoki having his back and giving him that little confidence booster before he had found you.

He’s quickly cursing his friends name.

Approaching you had caused the butterflies in his stomach to start up again and it must’ve clearly shown on his face as you looked concerned after he greeted you, putting a hand on his shoulder as you asked if he was okay. He wanted to reply ‘yes, of course!’ and his flirty side wanted to go ‘why, do you wanna be my nurse?’ while his desperate side wanted to say ‘please say you’ll go out with me’. But his actual self, his actual brilliant, low tolerance to alcohol self, said nothing.

Instead, he spewed his guts out.

All over your shoes.

The first thing he heard was Kuko’s hysterical laughter from the other side of the room which he promptly ignored as he tried not to topple over on you, your hand patting his back as he coughed at the burning sensation now in his throat. He had never wanted to die more in his life than he did right now, staring at your shoes covered in his puke, and he considered going up to the second floor so he could jump out the window in his room. You patted his shoulder and he looked up, finding your concerned face still plastered on as you whispered in his ear to ask where the bathroom was. He can faintly remember you leading him, leaning his head on the toilet while Samatoki stood in the doorway and talked with you, and then there was nothing.

Ichiro woke up in his bed the next morning, unceremoniously thrown on it sideways without even a blanket to cover him up. He groaned as his head throbbed, the previous nights events completely wiped from his memory for the time being until he dragged himself downstairs to get some water.

“Holy shit dude, you really barfed on ‘em? Oh my god they have to hate your guts!” Kuko is in tears instantly, his hysterical laughter triggering Ichiro’s memories of the night before; his friend might be an asshole but he was likely right. Who the hell wanted to deal with some lightweight idiot who greeted them with vomit? And he had class with you on Monday, how the hell should he deal with that? Was it too late to drop it? Could his counselor switch him to a different time? Ichiro was starting to panic.

There’s suddenly a loud clatter that pulled him from his thoughts as something is dropped in front of him on the table.

“The hell is that?”

“Your phone.” Samatoki stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was if Ichiro had bothered to look at the object before asking his question, “Took it from you after you got sick. Didn’t want you texting any dumbass exes and invitin’ them where they aren’t wanted.”

He’d rather not think about that.

He took the phone in his hand and raised an eyebrow at the number of missed messages, one of them being from Kuko who very much knew Ichiro wouldn’t be answered. He rolled his eyes at the ‘LOL’ that Kuko had sent him and continued to scroll through until he reached an unknown number, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he reads the text over and over.

‘Hey, I sit in front of you in Ethics. Just wanted to check in and see if you’re alright! Your roommate gave me your number if that’s cool. If not idk kick his ass or something. Make sure to take aspirin for that headache!!’

How could you be as cute over text as you were in person? Ichiro’s cheeks began to warm up and his stomach started to act up again, slapping a hand over his mouth as a wave of nausea came crashing down on him. He got worked up too quickly for his poor body to handle and as he’s hoisted from the table by Samatoki, ushering him to the bathroom like he’s some toddler who hasn’t learned to not piss their pants, he thinks about how lucky he is that you were such a kind person. Next time around he’d certainly be the one to make the first move and he wouldn’t need alcohol to get through it.

“Don’t fuckin’ throw up on the table dude we eat here.”

“Right in front of my salad,” Sasara sighed as he mixed his bowl of cereal.

“Shut the fuck up, that joke wasn’t funny when it was popular three years ago.”

Ichiro didn’t hear the bickering.

He was far too focused on texting you back.

[xmagicxshopx]

💋 Often 💋

Genre: Slice of Life, Comedy Rating: M (smut) Warnings: strip club, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex Pairing: stripper!jungkook x reader Notes: AU fic. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This is a project and collaboration by myself, @katebacks​ and @taevjim​ Mine is based on the song Often by The Weeknd

Summary: She asked me if i do this everyday, i said often. Asked how many times she rode the wave, not so often. Bitches down to do it either way, often. Baby i can make that pussy rain, often.

Routine.

You were all about the routine. It was what you knew and what you were comfortable with; the different and the unknown being your two biggest fears in life. You had a routine. A simple five-day, nine-to-five job that paid you well. A morning schedule of get ready for work, coffee and bagel for breakfast, feed the cat, and drive exactly 20 and a half minutes to get to work. Your evenings were no different as far as having a set schedule. Come home, feed the cat, pop dinner in the microwave, eat, chill, sleep.

All of your friends and family, even your coworkers, tried to gently and kindly nudge you into mixing your life up a bit. Add some spice to it. Broaden your horizon. But you were just fine with the way things were. You didn’t need any spice in your life and your horizon was as broad as you wanted it to be. Your belief? Don’t fix it if it’s not broken and your life wasn’t broken in the slightest. Everything was just peachy. You were happy and that’s what mattered most, right?

Or were you happy?

You scoffed at your reflection in your bathroom mirror as the self doubt started to creep into your brain like an ominous fog. Of course you were happy! Why wouldn’t you be??? Brushing off the sudden wave of doubt that managed to fill your very core, you continued getting ready for work before heading out the door. But of course not before feeding your cat at exactly ten minutes till eight.

Upon walking into the office, you noticed that it was just another day. Everyone already at their desks typing away in their little cubicles while papers could be heard shuffling around into neat, organized piles. The copier buzzing away as it performed the tasks asked of it. You liked this. This was your comfort zone. Routine was good. Everything was good. You had just put your purse away and went to sit down at your desk when one of your coworkers popped up over the top of your cubicle.

“So, girl friend! It’s a Friday and I’m taking you out whether you like it or not. Be ready by nine!”

Wait what???

“But---”

“Wear something slutty, too.”

Okay, yeah. Because that was totally your style. As your coworker went back to her own work, it was now your turn to carefully climb onto your desk on your knees so that you could look over the other cubicle. Scoffing softly, you tried your best to argue over why you couldn’t go out with her tonight.

“But Gigi, I don’t have anything like that and besides, I go to bed by nine. I need my beauty sleep.”

You knew your words were weak and sounded feeble even to your own ears. What kind of excuses were those??? Well, in your defense, you really didn’t have anything in your wardrobe that Gigi would consider ‘slutty’ and the both of you knew this. With a soft huff, your coworker simply rolled her eyes and said with a confident grin,

“Fine. I’ll lend you something to wear. We’re similar in size and body build so it’ll totally work. And tonight you’re skipping out on that beauty sleep. You’ll have plenty of time to recover over the weekend.”

Just as you were about to try and come up with yet another lame excuse, Gigi continued in addition,

“And today you’re not driving home. You’re driving to my place. I’ll give you the address and we’ll make a whole evening out of it. We’ll order take-out and stuff our faces so that the food can absorb the alcohol we’re gonna tank ourselves in tonight. It’s gonna be a blast!”

Somehow you highly doubted that. None of that sounded like a fun time to you. Well maybe the take-out part. Pouting in both defeat and confusion, you couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten into your coworker. You and Gigi weren’t official friends or anything so why was she doing this for you? Why put so much effort into someone who didn’t want it? With a soft huff, you muttered in defeat,

“Fine.”

It was all you could think about during the day while you tried to focus on work. Sure you knew there’d be a lot of time spent in the safety of your coworker’s home, but then where could she possibly be taking you that had to wait till after nine at night? Wait----She mentioned alcohol. Ugh. It was probably a club. Gross. Loud music, sweaty body odor every time you turn around, the stench of cheep beer. Ugh. That was not your idea of a fun night out. You didn’t even dance. You don’t even dance in front of your cat!

Before you knew it, it was five o’clock and time to pack up for the day and start the weekend. Normally, you’d be treating yourself to some drive thru food and just staying indoors till you had to leave for work the next Monday morning. However, thanks to Gigi, those plans had changed and you still weren’t all that excited about it. Pouting like a child who hadn’t gotten her way, you trudged yourself out of your cubicle to see a beaming Gigi by the elevator waiting for you.

“Don’t look so glum, we’re gonna have a great time!”

“Why are you doing all of this? You hardly know me.”

Just then, the elevator made a bell sound indicating that it had finally reached the floor you were on and the doors opened up for the both of you. As the two of you stepped inside, Gigi pressed the lobby button before clearing her throat a bit shyly and replied in a small, sheepish tone,

“I just hate to see you missing out on life, you know? I’m still new in town and I don’t have a lot of friends and you’re the only one who’s shown me any sort of kindness. I really appreciate that so I know you’re a good person and I just.....I dunno. This is going weird. Just go with it, okay?”

Never before had you seen your coworker so awkward. Gigi was always strutting her stuff with her body language screeching ‘confident’. To see her so shy and sheepish like this was new for you but somehow, you found yourself smiling and feeling touched. Suddenly feeling quite timid yourself, you cleared your throat and said softly,

“Well, I don’t know how good of a friend I’d make, but we can be friends if you want?”

You weren’t expecting the loud squeal of joy followed by the near tackle to the elevator floor as Gigi practically flung herself at you. It never dawned on you just how lonely your coworker must feel after moving to town. An area where she knew absolutely no one. No wonder she was overjoyed to hear your words. Awkwardly patting her back, you smiled up at the elevator ceiling before the doors finally opened again and brought the two of you out into the lobby.

“We’re gonna have so much fun, girly! I just know it! Dinner’s on me tonight, okay? You can pay for your drinks but dinner is definitely my treat. Come on, I’ll just meet you over at your place so you can leave your car and then we’ll drive together over to my place in my car.”

Everything was happening so fast and you definitely weren’t used to it. You preferred life in the slow lane but dang. Gigi was making that a thing of the past. Perhaps it was just her happiness of having made a new friend that caused her to be live like a wire and talking 90 miles a minute? Either way, before you could blink, you were giving her directions to your house and dropping your car off so that you could hop into hers.

During the ride to Gigi’s place, the two of you discussed what to have for dinner. Turns out she was indeed taking you to a club later tonight so alcohol was on the table as well. You could only imagine what a light weight you must be considering the fact that you really didn’t drink much. You were more of a celebratory drinker. Things like holidays and such. Otherwise, you never touched the stuff. You preferred your teas and coffee.

After deciding on Korean BBQ, the two of you placed your orders and had it delivered to Gigi’s place where the two of you eventually dug in; getting sauce all over your faces and laughing at each other over how messy the two of you looked. It was nice. This was nice. Something that you really didn’t think you’d feel based on your previous mindset. Perhaps getting out and socializing wasn’t so bad? This wasn’t so bad.

However, as the night hours passed, the hurdles only got more and more difficult to get over.

“Can’t I just go in what I’m wearing???”

“Girl----You’re wearing work clothes. No one goes to a club in their work clothes.”

The blush on your face was enough to zip your lips as you let your coworker now turned friend do her thing. Work her magic, you supposed. Would you even look right wearing something other than your usual conservative attire? Subconsciously nibbling your bottom lip in worry, you watched Gigi as she started pulling out pieces of clothing to inspect them, only to put them right back. You knew it. Nothing was going to look right on you. This just wasn’t your bag.

“Ha! Found it!”

Dang it.

Trying not to pout too loudly, you watched the girl whip out a dress that looked way too form fitting for your liking. It was drenched in sequins and jet black. Well....black went with everything, right? At least it was a color you were used to wearing as most of your work clothes were black. Perhaps that was what Gigi was going for? Something that she knew you’d at least be somewhat comfortable with due to the familiarity of it. If that was the case, then you were extremely grateful and liking this newfound friendship more and more.

“Okay so you’ll be wearing this and I have some stockings for you too. Once we’re dressed, we’ll put on some makeup.”

“Makeup?”

“Yes, makeup. We’re going to a club, girl! We gotta look pretty for those boys.”

“Boys?”

“You’ll see, girl friend.”

You simply whined and pouted with sagged shoulders as Gigi flashed you a cheeky smile and wink in return. This was too much. Yet at the same time......you were......curious? Yeah. That was it. Definitely not excited. Just curious. Still pouting, you went to work on unzipping the dress she handed you and started to carefully step into it. Gosh it really was form fitting, wasn’t it? Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment but went ahead and had Gigi zip you up.

No turning back now.

Once the both of you were dressed, it was time to put makeup on. You had quickly informed the girl that you didn’t know the first thing about makeup which didn’t come as a surprise to either of you. In fact, Gigi had full intentions of doing your makeup as well as her own. You weren’t sure if you should have felt insulted or comforted. In the moment, you were more relieved than anything because if you were in charge of doing your own......you’d just skip out on that step altogether.

“Okay, so I’ll have you watch me first and then I’ll do yours. Just in case you ever decide you want to try and do your own someday.”

The probability of you doing your own makeup one day was slim to none but it was still sweet of your coworker to say such things and offer such advice. With all the products Gigi had spread out on her bathroom counter, you figured this would take awhile. No wonder she was starting so early. You could only imagine how much all of those products cost her. It looked like a small fortune scattered all over the counter. But it wasn’t like you’d know.

However, you did as she asked and decided to watch and it wasn’t till it was over that you realized just how wrapped up you were in watching her. It was like watching a painter perform art with Gigi’s face being the blank canvas. You had no idea watching someone apply makeup could be so.....fascinating? Interesting? You weren’t quite sure of what word you were looking for but you found yourself blushing when she caught you being quite involved in paying attention.

“Okay! Your turn, girly!”

So there you stood with her applying all kinds of products to your face. You were pretty sure she put at least three different kinds of things on your lips. Something about a foundation layer and then eventually topping it all off with some gloss. Dunno. You got lost with how fast she was going through it all. Gigi knew what she was doing and that much was clear. Once she was done with your lips and you could talk freely, you couldn’t help but ask in a small and timid voice,

“So how did you get so good with makeup?”

“Oh I used to work in one of the malls and my sole job was to do people’s makeup while introducing them to the latest products. It was fun for the longest time but it didn’t pay enough. So I moved here when a job opening came up.”

Wow. You knew exactly what type of employee she was because you’d always eyeball the young girls getting their makeup done just for the fun of it while you roamed the racks for new work clothes. No wonder Gigi was so good at this. It had been her job for the longest time. You felt the need to at least give her some kind of tip but you knew right away that she’d never take it; insisting that she was no longer on the job anymore.

“There! We’re ready to par-tay!”

‘Yay.....’

Gigi said that it would be pointless to do either of your guys’ hair so you two just simply brushed it a bit and let it hang loose. Having only your bulky purse, Gigi kindly offered you a clutch purse that went with your dress perfectly; offering to keep the rest of your belongings at her place to keep them safe. But you had all the important stuff in the clutch and that was good enough for you.

The two of you would take an Uber so that the both of you could get trashed as Gigi so elegantly put it. You highly doubted you’d drink enough to get wasted but it was a smart idea. This way you could just go straight home in case you wanted to leave before your friend was ready. You had the feeling you’d be leaving way before she did.

Upon arriving at the club, you could feel your body going into some kind of panic mode. Eyes wide, face flushed with heat, and you’re pretty sure your heart is swimming in your stomach. Perhaps you shouldn’t have ate so much. The possibility that you could puke was high at the moment. Looking all around you, were strippers. The majority of them female but you could spot a few males and good lord. Your eyes. Your poor poor eyes. In a shouted whisper, you scolded the girl next to you.

“You brought us to a strip club!?!!?”

“Don’t act so mortified. Lots of people go. See?”

“I’m not one of those people, Gi!!!”

But all you got was a coo in response as your coworker-turned-friend squished your cheeks together at the cute nickname you had just subconsciously given her. Before you could further complain and even rush out the door, you were being dragged to the bar area. Good lord. There were naked and half naked people everywhere. How could anyone call this fun??? It was barbaric!! With cheeks still flushed in shock and now embarrassment, you simply let Gigi order the drinks for the two of you so that you could try to pull yourself together.

It was going to be a loooonnng night.

With a couple drinks in your system, you were definitely starting to feel it. A light weight. You knew you were a light weight but dang. Allowing the tipsy Gigi to guide you over to a table close to the stage, you didn’t find yourself whining at the idea of being so close up to someone who was going to strip right in front of you. Perhaps it was the alcohol messing with your brain and you just didn’t have the energy to care anymore. You were stuck here so might as well make the most of it, right?

And then he walked out.

If you weren’t so out of it thanks to the alcohol, you would have had better control over your bodily functions. Like trying to prevent from drooling all over yourself. He was absolutely gorgeous. And that was putting it lightly in your opinion.

His facial features reminded you of a rabbit but he was anything but cute right now. Those doe eyes of his were sharp yet hooded as he put on a show of pure seduction while on stage. Yes. This man was a stripper but you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. Your embarrassment was traded in for fascination as you watched him saunter his way to the center of the stage.

Dark locks hung in front of his beautifully handsome face and the product used in it made it appear as if he had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still wet. It wasn’t the only thing wet right now as you tried to press your thighs closer together. Good lord. What age were you? Sixteen? Subconsciously licking your dry lips, you watched as he began to unbutton the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Yes. He was fit for all purposes of the word. You could tell this guy went to the gym often because of the way his muscles bulged within the confines of his outfit. His dress shirt had some sort of sequins in it that made it sparkle under the harsh lighting of the stage. It was like he himself was sparkling in all his gorgeousness. You truly had never seen such a more handsome man before. Not even on magazine covers.

As he worked on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, you let your eyes wander further down his body. God his thigh muscles. How on earth did he even fit in those pants? They looked painted on! The next thing you knew, he was pulling the hem of his shirt from the confinements of those skin tight pants. If you weren’t certain he went to the gym before, you were absolutely positive now.

After watching him allow his dress shirt to fall on the stage floor, you were definitely drooling at this point. In fact, you were so wrapped up in watching this mysterious man perform that you didn’t even notice Gigi leaving you to your own devices. Had you been paying her any mind, you would have pouted at her smug expression of victory as she moved back to the bar for another drink.

With the man now shirtless, you took your good old time admiring his freshly exposed skin. He was perfect. You were pretty sure no other man could be as perfect and flawless as him. At least appearance wise. If this guy wasn’t proud of his body, then he should be. From the looks of things, perhaps he was a little too proud. You were a little drunk but you weren’t blind drunk. You could be blind and still be able to see the confidence that radiated off of him in waves.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for him to walk off the stage and into the crowd.

Walking right towards you.

Wait what????

Your eyes widened in shock as he strutted his way over to you. There was no mistaking that it was you he was after because there was no one else at the table you were sitting at. No. His eyes were all on you and the heat was spreading from your face, all the way down your neck and to the tips of your ears. Gosh this was so embarrassing! Where was Gigi!?!? Your heart pounded in your ears over the music as the man slowly held out his hand for you to take.

As if you still had no control over your own body, you found yourself placing your shaking, clammy hand in his own. Gosh his hands were big too. You felt so small at the realization as he gently gripped your hand in his. The next thing you knew, you were being swiftly pulled from your chair and twirled around only to land in a solid, hard lap. You were sobering up pretty quickly. Or at least it seemed like it.

Dear god this was so mortifying!!

“The name is Jungkook. I’m guessing from the frightened look on your face, you don’t come here often. Would I be guessing correctly, beautiful?”

God you needed to say something, anything, but you were just too shocked and embarrassed by your current situation that all you could do was part your lips but no sounds came out. Your eyes did all the talking as they stared into his own; yours full of helplessness and yes you were definitely scared. A shirtless stranger had you in his lap like it was no big deal. Handsome, sure, but still a complete stranger. He smiled and chuckled softly in endearment before carefully helping you off his lap and back to stand on your own two feet.

“I’ll take that as a yes. But worry not, beautiful, you’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you. Here, take this and once I’m done performing, hand this to the bartender and he’ll bring you right to me. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

You stood there like a bump on a log as you watched him fish in his back pocket for something. How could he fit anything in those pants besides his hot ass and thighs? Seriously!? Those things weren’t painted on??? Blinking and feeling half numb by this point, you felt him press something into your palm and even helped close your fingers around it. As he walked away coolly back towards the stage to do his thing, you stared down at what was in your hand while fumbling to find your seat again. You definitely needed to sit down right now.

A key. This Jungkook guy had given you a key. It looked pretty antique and vintage, like something you’d see back in medieval times, but you weren’t going to question it. No. The real question was---were you really gonna take him up on this offer of his. Then again.....what exactly was he offering you? A private lap dance? That had to be what it was. Something that you wanted no part of.

Or did you?

Ugh. This was so troublesome. So annoying! Then again.....what did you really have to lose? But what if you couldn’t trust this guy? There was just so many things you didn’t know. Not to mention you were scared of looking like an even bigger idiot in front of him. He probably thought you were some spineless virgin. Granted the spineless part wasn’t far from the truth but at least you weren’t a virgin...

And before you knew it, the man was sauntering off stage back towards the curtains where he disappeared from sight. You almost choked when you realized he had stripped down to nothing but his boxer briefs. Was it a shame that you only caught his backside in that state? Wait----Of course not! You didn’t want to see what this guy was carrying around in his pants......

Or did you?

Trying to decide if you had too much to drink or not enough, you sat there for a few minutes longer weighing your options. On one hand, you could go in and see what he was proposing and if you didn’t like it, you could always back out. On the other hand, if you walk away now, you might be missing out on something that you didn’t realize you wanted. Heck, you never imagined you’d start the weekend off with a new friend. Perhaps you really did need to broaden your horizons.

Taking a deep breath, you stood from your chair and headed over to the bar where Jungkook, you’re pretty sure that was his name, had told you to hand the key over. The bartender seemed nice enough as he took the key and nodded his head with a soft ‘this way, my dear’. Oh boy. Here we go. No backing out now. It was now or never. You had half a mind to text Gigi what you were doing but something told you she didn’t miss the whole scene of you sitting in a stripper’s lap.

You were guided through a door that no doubt lead to a backstage type setting but you were totally not prepared for the scene you practically stumbled upon. Girls. So many girls. Some were half dressed while some walked around completely naked. Holy----Your eyes. Again, you weren’t a virgin but you might as well have been considering how warm your face had gotten. Some of them even giggled and flashed you cheeky winks. Oh boy. Apparently privacy wasn’t a thing around here. You could only hope there would be more privacy where you were headed.

Speaking of, after walking down two more hallways, the bartender finally reached a door and used that very same key to unlock a door before cracking it open just enough to let someone know you were here. Of course you could only presume it was Jungkook. Good lord. Hopefully there was no one else in the room. One stripper was all you could handle right now. And heck you couldn’t even handle that!

After the bartender politely bid you farewell, you found yourself gulping down a lump that had suddenly formed in your throat as you stared at the slightly cracked open door. This was it. Supposedly Jungkook was waiting on the other side. What if he was already naked??? Dear god maybe you should just politely decline and catch an Uber home. Yeah. That sounded like a good idea. Get a nice cup of black coffee and some headache pills so that you wouldn’t suffer a hango----

“You can come in, beautiful. It’s safe. I promise.”

Why did he have to sound so soothing and convincing for, huh?! Wishing you had a tall glass of ice water to jug down right about now, you did your best to brace yourself for what was on the other side of the door. Gosh your face already felt like it was on fire. How embarrassing! With a clammy and shaky hand, you put your weight on the door and eased it open further so that you could poke your head inside.

Oh.....

It looked so.....normal? Perhaps even.....casual and dare you say.......soothing?

It was pretty much set up like a master bedroom you’d find in any normal house. There was a mini bar set up with some expensive looking alcohol and drinking glasses already filled. Soft R&B music was playing in the background but the volume was so low that it indeed sounded like simple background noise. You could smell something. It was soothing but you could only guess it was coming from some kind of candle or maybe a diffuser.

“Hello there, sweetheart. I’m glad to see you took me up on my offer. I can assure you, I don’t bite. Unless of course you’re into that kind of thing.”

He was dressed so casually compared to the last time you saw him only moments ago. He was decked out for comfort despite what you believe his intentions were. Dark gray sweatpants and a matching hooded sweatshirt. They looked thin in material so it was probably just to help keep him modest while in your presence. His hair still had that wet look to it thanks to the mountain of products he probably had in it.

“Come sit with me and have a drink. Or would you prefer some water? You look quite flushed.”

“W-Water would be nice, thank you.”

Not realizing your legs had felt like jello, you managed to hobble your way over to the couch where you took a much needed seat. Your hands were still shaking a bit but perhaps it was just from the lingering nerves. The atmosphere really was soothing thanks to the dimmed lights that gave off a warm and soft glow; casting the perfect amount of shadow over everything. You were pretty sure you were smelling lavender and it was a comforting scent for sure.

“Here you go, love. Just try to relax. I’m not here to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. But you looked like you needed to loosen up. Maybe someone to talk to?”

Softly thanking him for the water, you tried not to chug it back but it was hard given how shook up you were. Not to mention your face still felt pretty warm. Perhaps you would have been better off to just splash yourself in the face with it instead. Managing to take a couple gulps without looking silly, you held the cup in your lap before looking over at him with guarded and curious eyes.

“So.....we just sit here and talk?”

“If that’s what you’re comfortable with? I’m at your service. Your wish is my command as the saying goes.”

His soft chuckles filled the room and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling a little. Were all strippers this chill? Now that you thought about it, what made strippers different from anyone else? It wasn’t like they were some kind of exotic creature. They too were just normal, every day humans making a living. It wasn’t like they were a different kind of species.

Maybe this would be okay after all.

“So......you’re not here to give me a lap dance?”

“Oh my god! You’re so cute! I can’t!”

You watched in utter amazement as Jungkook, who had since been siting next to you on the couch, started to curl in on himself while he laughed; carefully holding his glass of whatever alcohol he was drinking in one hand while his other wrapped around his waist. Pouting and semi folding your arms due to the fact that you were still holding a glass of water, you mumbled in your own defense,

“What?! It’s a legit and reasonable question!”

Still pouting while watching and waiting for him to pull himself together, you decided to distract yourself with your glass of water. At least the blush in your face was letting up. Did that mean you were already getting comfortable with him? This guy.......He was like magic in that way. Knowing exactly what you needed to feel comfortable and relaxed. Then again.....he probably did this with everyone he brought back here. You suddenly felt the need to stand rather than sit on the couch.

“I swear, we’re only here to do whatever you want. So if you want a lap dance, I can do that. If you want to just sit here and chill, I can do that too.”

“But......why me? You had tons of other girls out there to pick from to bring back here. So why pick me? Clearly I’m an awkward turtle. Doesn’t exactly scream sexy.”

It was a fair question. A question that you were eager to have an answer for. Watching him closely, you noticed he was rubbing his chin in thought as if he was trying to find the right words to explain his reasoning behind bringing you back here. With a soft hum of said thought, Jungkook took a sip from his glass before replying casually while meeting your eyes,

“I guess you just looked.....lonely? Lost? You looked like you needed this. Clearly you didn’t come to a strip club by choice or at least not entirely. I could feel your tension clear across the stage. I was going to offer you a massage but I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Okay well that was fair. You couldn’t help but notice how good he was at reading people. Or perhaps you were just simply an open book. Yeah. It was probably that. You had often been told by everyone in your family that you carry your heart on your sleeve and your emotions along with it. Just as you were mentally scoffing at said family, Jungkook’s voice once again broke through your thoughts.

“Tell me, cutie, if it’s not too personal or prying to ask, when’s the last time you got laid?”

Well so much for that fading blush of yours. Granted, you knew you didn’t owe him an answer. Your sex life was your business and no one else’s. However....there was just something about Jungkook that made him easy to talk to. He gave off this aura of comfort and made you feel like you could tell him anything. With your cheeks still rosy and your ears just as red, you timidly sipped from your water again before mumbling in shame,

“Too long ago.”

But rather than laugh at you again, he offered you a sympathetic, lopsided smile; his eyes full of understanding and a small nod to go with it. You were grateful that he had picked up on the topic being a sensitive one for you and therefore respecting your feelings and not wanting to hurt you by poking fun. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he set his glass down on the side table that was on his end of the couch.

“Well, to be frank, I’m more than willing to give you a lap dance if you think it’d help you relax and unwind. I personally think it’d be good for you. You’ve got too much pent up tension there and I think we’re both in agreement when I say everyone needs a good release every once in awhile.”

Was he inclining what you thought he was inclining???

“You mean you want to have sex with me?”

His soft snort of laughter made you pout once more while you subconsciously tried to fan your face. Sure the lighting was dim in the room but was it doing anything to hide your raging blush? With a soft and warm smile, Jungkook couldn’t help but shake his head at you in fond amusement. You really were the cutest. Dramatically raising his hands as in defense or surrender, he said casually,

“All I’m saying is, that I’m more than willing to make you cum, pretty girl. You really look like you need a good release. I have no doubt you’ll feel better afterwards. I’ve been told I have the golden touch.”

Despite your lingering embarrassment, you weren’t too far gone to roll your eyes at his overflowing humbleness. But now you had a decision to make. Clearly Jungkook was a safe guy to be around. He wasn’t some crazy trying to rape you or anything. Or at least you were pretty sure he was a decent guy with a straight head on his shoulders. Absentmindedly nibbling on your bottom lip, you took a moment longer to think about it.

“So......how exactly do you give me a lap dance? Do I sit in a chair or something?”

Gosh you were absolutely adorable. Precious, even. Jungkook swore that if you got any cuter, he was going to have to retire and ask you out on a date. Or at least ask for your number and maybe meet up for coffee. Did you like coffee? You probably did. You looked like a coffee drinker. He wondered what your favorite drink was. Mentally shaking his head and focusing on his job once more, he smiled with his eyes sparkling in warm amusement before saying casually,

“It all depends on what you’re comfortable with, really. I can also easily give you a little show on the bed. Actually, the bed would probably be more comfortable for you.”

He then added with a slightly more serious tone,

“But if you do decide this is something you want to do, just remember that you make the rules in this too. While I have my own set of guidelines, I’m only here to do what makes you comfortable.”

Nodding in full understanding, you bit your bottom lip once more as you decided if this was something you really wanted to go through with. Jungkook really was a handsome young man. You’d probably be stupid to turn him down. And it seemed like he was allowing you to call most of, if not all, the shots in this. He would only do what you asked of him. What you permitted him to do. That alone was comforting enough for you to say----

“So the bed?”

“The bed. Make yourself comfortable, baby girl. I’m gonna take good care of you. Promise.”

Your face flushed pink yet again with a small, shy pout as he flashed you a bright smile and cheeky wink. Good lord you were really going to do this. Okay. Okay. You could do this. You needed this. It wasn’t like you were entirely blind. Of course you needed a good release but you had just never been given the right push to get there. Not to mention it had never fit into your daily routine.

After all, you were all about the routine.

Perhaps Jungkook would become part of that daily set schedule of yours....

“It’s okay to keep your clothes on but you might find yourself more comfortable if you take them off. Just saying.”

He had a point. You were already warm thanks to your permanent blush. This was it. Time to throw all caution out the window and just go for it. You weren’t a teenager having her first time. No. You were a young woman with a body to be proud of. You deserved this. Steeling yourself up with that confident mindset, you nodded and started to undress till you were left in only your black bra, matching panties, and your stockings.

Seeing that you had started to warm up to the idea and was becoming more comfortable with things, Jungkook decided it was his cue to finally get into character while being mindful of your shy nature. He felt like a lion and you were his little lamb. So pure and yet easily frightened. There was just something about you that spoke out to him. He wanted to help you. And that urge confused even himself.

“Okay, beautiful, I’m going to start now.”

With his hands reaching back for his light sweatshirt, he couldn’t resist adding with a smile and a bit of a warm and playful glint in his eyes,

“You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way. Keep those stockings on too.”

While mumbling a soft and shy thanks, you watched him as he did that super hot thing guys do when taking off their shirt. That thing where they magically tug the piece of material over their head from the back. Why was it so hot, anyway?? Was that just something every woman came to accept? It must have worked on you because Jungkook’s soft chuckles filled the room once more. Looking up into his eyes, you noticed he was rather smug and pleased with himself.

“Like what you see, cutie?”

“Well----I mean----You have a nice body. So yeah. I guess I do.”

You hated how choppy your sentences sound but it was like this guy knew how to turn your brain into absolute mush. You were already like putty in his hands and he had only taken his shirt off with those sweatpants hanging perfectly from his hips. Perhaps you really did need to get laid....

Just then, you watched as he started to swivel those very hips in a way that had you involuntarily gulping and pressing your thighs together. The last thing you wanted to do was make a mess of this bed. But then again.....perhaps that was part of Jungkook’s plan for you. He said he wanted to make you cum, after all. You hadn’t realized your throat and lips were so dry till you sucked in a breath at a particularly sudden hip thrust. Oh wow. He was so good!!

You definitely made the right decision to go along with this.

“Touch yourself if you need to, baby girl. It’s okay to explore.”

“I-I’m good. Just ke-keep going-ing.”

You could get used to his warm chuckles of amusement. It felt good to know that he wasn’t really laughing at you in a sense of mocking you. It was more like.....maybe he found you endearing? Whatever it was, you were just glad he wasn’t mocking you or belittling you for your lack of experience in all of this. Despite being a stripper, that certainly didn’t make Jungkook a bad guy.

You could actually see yourself sitting down with him over a cup of coffee. You wondered if he even liked coffee? He seemed like the kind of guy that you might find in a cafe sipping on a nice iced Americano.

“Focus, baby. Try not to let your mind wander or you’ll miss all the fun.”

He must have realized you were really zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts because after blinking mental images of coffee shops away, you nearly choked when you saw that he had stripped away his sweatpants and was left standing in front of you with nothing but his boxer briefs on. Dang he was built! He had to be pure muscle. Had to be!

Unknowingly licking your dry lips and swallowing a new lump in your throat, you decided to make yourself more comfortable by scooting back further onto the bed where you could rest your back up against the pillows and headboard. Once you were in a good spot, you turned your attention back to Jungkook and found he had somewhat of a dangerous smirk on his face. Oh boy....

“You really do look beautiful, baby girl. I can’t wait to take care of you like you deserve. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Not able to find your voice, you simply nodded while subconsciously playing with your fingers in your lap; thighs still pressed tightly together. Grinning, the male made sure to move his hips just right as he approached the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help but wonder what his game plan was to take care of you. And that was when he tilted his head to the side in curiosity and asked in a light tone,

“May I join you, lovely?”

“Ye--Yeah.”

“Wonderful. Let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

Still not having much of a voice, you simply nodded and watched him approach you like a predator after his prey. That smirk was back as he slowly climbed onto the bed; the mattress dipping under his weight. You could hear your own heart pounding in your ears as the anticipation built. This was your last chance to back out but for some reason you remained silent. Perhaps you really did want this.

The next thing you knew, he was gently running his hand along your one leg while his lips were ghosting up the other. Goosebumps rose from your skin at his touch and yet your core was starting to get hotter and hotter. Perhaps Jungkook really did have the golden touch? You felt your breath catch when he finally started planting actual kisses to your leg; starting with your knee. He was being so gentle and slow. Something that you were extremely grateful for.

“Your skin is super soft, baby. You must take really good care of your body. I can appreciate that in a woman.”

“Th--Thanks. I try.”

Jungkook knew you were extremely nervous despite your agreement to go along with this so he wanted to take things slow and sort of ease you into the whole idea of what he had planned for you. As he finally reached up to your thighs, he couldn’t help but playfully nip at the delicious skin that greeted him. Your little yelp and jump was so cute. With his head nearly resting on your thigh, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance up at you.

Your face was so red and you knew it was. Hardly anything sexy to look at but to Jungkook you were so precious and endearing. He could just eat you right up. Lucky for you that was exactly his plan. Planting a soothing kiss over his little bite mark, he then moved up to where he was eye level with your cleavage but still looking up at you with eyes dark while full of excitement and curiosity. Licking his lips, he asked,

“May I?”

Upon seeing your timid nod of approval, he smiled more warmly before moving his eyes to his latest target. You had really nice breasts from what he could tell. Just the right size, too. Not being able to help himself any longer, he moved till he was more comfortable on his knees and gently took one of your soft mounds into his large hand. Oh yeah. You were soft. And just like that, a small moan fell from your lips. Like music to his ears.

“Don’t hold back, beautiful. I won’t know if I’m doing a good job if I can’t hear you.”

Knowing it was something you enjoyed, he decided to give your other breast his attention as well by using his free hand. With both palms now happily occupied as they slowly massaged your supple mounds, he couldn’t help but let his lips wander. Their next target? Your neck. He briefly wondered if it was a sensitive spot of yours because it would definitely seem your breasts were sensitive. He rolled his thumbs over your nipples and could feel them harden through the fabric of your bra.

“So beautiful. I bet your tits are absolutely divine. Would you let me see them, baby girl?”

You shivered and released a shaky moan as his lips lightly brushed up against the length of your neck. His hands were amazing and he had hardly touched you. There was a small voice in the back of your head that was screaming at you to say no. That this guy was still a complete stranger and had no business seeing your tits. However, this stranger was also making you feel things you didn’t realize you needed or wanted.

“Ye--Ye---Yeah. You can.”

Being careful as if not to frighten you away, he removed his hands from your bosom so that he could slowly and gently reach around you to unclasp your bra. While his deft fingers worked on the clasps, his lips found their way to your neck once more where he started planting soft, open mouthed kisses. Once he freed you from the confines of your bra, he slowly dragged the straps down your arms before taking the thing off completely.

Tossing the black bra somewhere behind him, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the sight in front of him. You really were quite pretty and he wasn’t just talking about your tits. Although they were nice too. Absentmindedly licking his lips in eagerness, he couldn’t help but mumble,

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, my lovely. Do me a favor and lay down for me. I’m going to worship this body a little bit longer.”

Worship you? It just didn’t sound right to your ears. Then again, your self-esteem always did need a bit of work. Blushing to the point of lightly fanning your face once more, you nodded and timidly wiggled in between his legs so that you could comfortably rest your head on the pillows. Staring up at him with your eyes full of curiosity yet uncertainty, you asked shyly in a small tone,

“What are you gonna do?”

You poor thing. Had no one really ever treated you to something like this? And he wasn’t even going all out. For some reason, it really irked him at the thought that no man had ever truly took time to appreciate your body like this. However, not wanting you to think he was grumpy with you or having second thoughts, Jungkook wore a warm smile with softened eyes and spoke sincerely but with a hint of teasing in his voice,

“Well since you look positively delicious, I was thinking of eating you.”

Not giving you time to respond, he added slowly while his lips drew closer and closer to your bosom,

“First, I want to suck on these pretty tits of yours. Then.....”

You watched with a slightly heaving chest as he gracefully crawled down your body till his lips were just centimetres away from the waist line of your panties. His intense staring of your core was making you squirm and a soft whine slipped out before you could bite your tongue. His grin suddenly came back as his eyes flickered to make direct contact with your own.

“Then I’ll eat you out like you deserve. You’re a goddess and that’s how I intend to treat you.”

The next thing you knew, words were flying out of your mouth on your own accord.

“Can we just skip the tits and you eat me out now? I don’t think I can wait any longer. It’s killing me to wait.”

It really had been forever since you last did anything. Whether it be at the hands of someone else or yourself. You were quickly getting used to the permanent blush on your face and your embarrassment was quickly being replaced with impatience as you stared down at him where he was perched between your legs.

Yep. He was going to retire, quit stripping, and sweep you off your feet; carrying you out into the sunset to live happily ever after. You were just too freaking cute for words. He liked them shy and innocent because then he could completely ravish them till they were ruined and begging for more. You were totally his type. Grinning like a fox, he teasingly gripped the waist line of your panties between his teeth and tugged only to let them snap back against your skin before saying in a low tone,

“Well I did say your wish was my command.”

It wasn’t till he was lifting himself up to rest on his knees and thighs that you realized just how worked up you had gotten. The sexual frustration was starting to get the best of you; especially as you were sobering up pretty quickly. Not having realized that you had spread your legs for him at some point in the game, you simply spread them wider so that he’d have plenty of room to do whatever it was he had in store for you.

That fox-like grin still on his face, Jungkook couldn’t help but lean back down onto his elbows so that he could gently nuzzle your chest before planting soft kisses around your nipples. You were torn between whining and moaning as you both enjoyed the touch but also grew all the more impatient for where you really wanted him. After releasing a soft groan of pleasure, you couldn’t help but gently tug on his soft locks in warning while saying in a whining tone,

“Jungkoooook. Stoooop. You said you’d eat me out now!”

His rock hard body shook gently against your own as he chuckled at your adorable display of impatience. He was pleased to see you finally letting go and allowing yourself this moment. It had been a task and a half, but he finally got you here. Planting one last kiss to the underside of your breast, he slithered down your body like the seducing snake he could be and finally started planting kisses down your stomach to the waist line of your black panties.

“I’m sorry, love. But I can’t help myself. You’re just too beautiful not to admire.”

However, playtime was over. Gently tapping your thigh, he gave you the cue to lift your bum so that he could slip off your panties more easily. With a blink of an eye, you were left with nothing but your stockings which Jungkook had insisted you keep on because it made you look all the more sexy to him. You couldn’t tell if his compliments were sincere or not but you were so wound up that you didn’t really care at this point.

“God you look absolutely delicious. I can’t wait to taste you, baby girl.”

His words made your walls clench around nothing and it only caused more slick to pool between your thighs as Jungkook had since gotten himself more comfortable between your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. Gosh he was so muscular. You could see his muscles bulge as he worked on positioning you right where he wanted you. You both licked your lips as eyed each other with equal amounts of hunger.

You watched him lower his head before feeling his tongue for the first time. Eyes instantly snapping shut, you felt your back arch off the bed and a moan fall from your lips. Yes. Jungkook not only had the magic touch, but he had the magic tongue. You were certain of it. The male gently dug his shortened nails into the meat of your thighs as he too let out a moan of his own. You tasted just as wonderful has he imagined you would.

“God, babe. You’re delicious. You’re spoiling me here. Where have you been all my life?”

“I-I d-d-du-dunno.”

Your thighs started to shake when you felt his tongue flick over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Maybe it was because someone else was touching you but not even your most expensive vibrator could make you feel this good. Needing something to ground you, your hands found their way into his mess of hair and you found yourself gently tugging on the soft locks that lay between your fingers. The action made Jungkook moan and you felt the vibrations with full force.

The male enjoyed having his hair pulled despite how dominate he naturally was. He considered hair pulling one of the many signs that he was doing a good job and that was something that had always been important to him. He enjoyed making others feel good. One of the few reasons he hadn’t quit his job as a stripper. But there was something about you.......He just couldn’t place it.

You really did taste amazing, though. His eagerness was more genuine than for show. Wanting to increase your pleasure, he pressed his face harder into your core, his nose buried in your scent while his tongue got to taste you to the fullest. You were so warm and wet. Jungkook could only imagine how you’d feel around his cock. Which had since grown hard within his boxer briefs. Gosh it was always the cute and shy ones that turned him on the most.

As he went back to teasing your clit and sucking it with hunger, he heard your moans coming to a halt as you half shouted in a desperate tone,

“Jungkook-----I want your cock! Please! I need you in me! Now!”

Well that escalated quickly.

However, he wanted to make absolutely sure this was something you wanted. Pulling his face away from your core, he looked up at you through his eyelashes with eyes that had grown dark with lust. Yours too were just as dark which was a huge contrast to the innocent shine they had shown only moments ago. You suddenly weren’t so shy and definitely not innocent.

You were a total wreck at this point. Your mind was a mess but you knew what you wanted. You had long sobered up from what few drinks you had and you knew this was something you wanted. Something you needed. It had truly been awhile since you last experienced an orgasm and you were long overdue for one. Jungkook, stranger or not, was your ticket to release and nothing was going to stand in your way.

Not even your routine.

“Please, Jungkook. Please.”

“Easy, baby girl. I’ve got you. I’ll take really good care of you.”

Releasing your legs and climbing off the bed for just a moment, he could feel your eyes on him as he fished out a condom from one of the side drawers. You were so wrecked and it was a beautiful sight. Your eyes hooded with your chest heaving. He had hardly touched you. Poor thing, you must be really sensitive.

Climbing back onto the bed, he made quick work of ripping the package and rolling the condom onto his rock hard length. You really did turn him on. Normally, he had to work himself to full mast but you being you.....it was no problem. Perhaps you yourself was magic too. Given his line of work, it wasn’t often he found a client who could turn him on as much as you did.

“You’re going to feel so good around my cock, baby girl. You sure you don’t want me to stre-----”

“No! Please! I’m good. I promise. Just hurry! Want you so bad!”

Jungkook had no doubt that you could have quite the dirty mouth on you if you were to let yourself go far enough. It was almost hard to believe that just mere moments ago, you were this shy young woman who wouldn’t dare do something so scandalous as having sex with a stripper. Yet here you were, desperate under his touch. He loved it. Thrived in it.

The lion had his little lamb right where he wanted her.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer, he made himself comfortable between your legs once more before aligning himself with your sopping entrance. You were so beautiful with your face all flushed and chest rising and falling at a slightly rapid pace. Your soft locks sprawled all over the pillow. So so pretty. And all for him. Trying to focus, he slowly eased himself forward till he could feel the tip of his length nudge your entrance. God you were so warm. He could only imagine how wonderful you’d feel once he was fully inside you.

“You’re so freaking tight, baby girl. It really has been awhile, huh?”

“God too long! Too long! Please! Ruin me, Jungkook!”

He knew it. You could be a dirty little girl if you’d just let yourself loose from your own leash. He certainly hoped this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you saw each other. You were a real treat in his book. A treat he wanted again and again. Someone he could easily become addicted to being around if you’d let him.

He could feel your velvety walls clenching around him as you were stuffed full for the first time in a long while. Not wanting you to go into some sort of shock, he gently rubbed your sides with his warm hands in soothing, repetitive motions. Leaning down, he gently planted kisses along your face. Just anything to take your mind off the slight sting he knew you’d feel.

“Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths. You’re right here and I’m not going to let anything hurt you, okay?”

“Ss-s-so full.”

“I know, baby. I know. Bet you’ve never had cock this good, huh?”

“Ne-Never. Never ever. Ss-so good.”

You were already ruined and he hadn’t even moved. You poor poor thing. Depriving yourself for so long of something so good. Well he was going to make sure you didn’t miss out any longer. Feeling your body ease up from underneath him, he took that as a silent signal to start moving his hips. God you felt so good around him. His length involuntarily twitched what little it could while being buried inside your warm wet walls.

“You feel just as good, babe. So warm and tight. Just the way I like it. You were made for me, baby girl.”

Your moans filled the room along with his own as you found your arms wrapping around him to gently dig your nails into his muscular back. You needed something to hold onto despite his slow and easy pace. While you appreciated him taking things slow......you had long since grown impatient. Testing the waters since you really hadn’t done much yourself, you bucked your hips at just the right time so that they collided with his own.

Yeah. That felt good.

With a soft growl of pleasure, Jungkook found himself staring heavily into your eyes as he said in a low and slightly threatening tone,

“Ooohhh. So baby girl likes it rough, does she? Well two can play at this game. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Oh boy.....

And just like that, the male pulled out of you only for him to flip you over onto your hands and knees. All the sounds you could make were soft yelps of surprise before suddenly feeling him ram his hips into yours; successfully sheathing himself deep inside you once more. The action alone caused a loud moan to fall from your lips as you hung your head; body slightly shaking with overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes! Yes, Jungkook! Please! More!”

“Greedy little lamb! So eager for my cock. Gonna absolutely ruin you! Fuck you so good you’ll forget your own name and only remember mine!”

The room became filled with your moans along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin as Jungkook pounded into you from behind; his hands gripping your hips till he left marks. You had never been with someone who was so strong. His movements were so powerful that he was making the bed shake as well as yourself. Your moans came out shaky from how he managed to move your body with his powerful thrusts. You then felt him drape himself over your back.

He reached around you so that one hand could massage your breast and play with your nipple while his other hand slithered down to where he found your clit. It had already been a challenge for you to stay on all fours when he started ramming his hips into yours; let alone when he started feeling up your weak spots. God you had no idea you were so sensitive till Jungkook came along. It was like he already knew your body like the back of his hand.

“Jj-Ju-Jungko-oo-ok. I’m cl-cl-close!!”

“Already, baby girl? Surly you can last a little longer till I get there, hmm? Can you wait for me, beautiful?”

Normally, he could care less when his clients came. Sometimes, the sooner the better. But with you? Jungkook was just having way too much fun and you really did feel amazing. However, there was also that little nagging voice in the back of his head whining about how he didn’t want to let you leave. There was so much he wanted to ask you. Hell, he wanted to get to know you. Which he still hadn’t figured out why. Maybe you were just an easily likable person?

Your moans were even cute as you let out all your pent up sexual frustration. However, his strength must have gotten the better of you because he watched your arms finally give out from under you. Acting quickly, he used his own arms to lift you up so that you were leaning back into him; the both of you now on your knees.

With his nose buried in the crook of your neck, he began to place sloppy kisses to your heated skin while an arm wrapped around your chest; massaging your breast while that other hand went back to work on rubbing figure eights into your clit. He could feel your thighs shaking and quivering as he slowly but surely brought you to your end. He could tell you were close from the way your walls clenched around his length repeatedly.

Then you surprised him by reaching back behind the both of you to try and grab at his ass. Well well well. We’re you getting a little brave? He couldn’t help but smile against the expanse of your neck before gently biting down on the skin and sucking it gently; leaving his mark for you to remember him by tomorrow.

“Jungkook!! Please!! Please let me cum!!”

“Go for it, baby girl. Cream all over my cock. Be a good little lamb and cum for me.”

Definitely not needing to be told twice, you could feel the knot in your lower belly finally snap and your release hitting you like a tidal wave. It was so easy and natural for you to scream out his name as your body arched and shook against his own. You were so lost in your bliss that you didn’t realize he had a protective hold on you while he too found his own end; releasing into the condom. Shame you couldn’t have felt him fill you up instead.

The only sounds filling the room were the soft music coming from Jungkook’s phone along with both of your heavy breathing. You could feel his heart pounding against your back as you had to lean against him for support; thankful that he was still holding you up. However, it wasn’t long till he gently pulled himself from you entirely before easing you down onto the mattress like a real gentleman.

“Let me go dispose of this and get a wash cloth to clean you up, okay baby?”

Still floating on your cloud bliss, you simply nodded your head against the pillows while hearing him chuckle once more. You felt like dead weight but it was a good kind of feeling. Whew. How much tension had you really held inside you for all this time? You had no idea how badly you needed this. Sex with a complete stranger. Who would have thought this was how you spiced up your life and broadened your horizon.

Just as your eyes were about to close completely, you heard him come back and ask casually,

“So are you a coffee drinker?”

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out at Night

A/N: Debating on whether or not I should put this on AO3. Thoughts? Do I need to edit what I have before posting on my favorite website? Anyways, I’m really into horror and I’d like to try my hand at focusing on MC’s descent into madness while falling for her captors. Dimitrescu Sisters x OFC (Desdemona) Summary: Desdemona, her twin brother and best friend are on vacation in Romania when things go horribly wrong the moment they run out of gas. Desdemona has the misfortune of enchanting the monsters that decided to terrorize her group. 

        It was a cold, pitch black night in the northeastern mountainous region of Romania, a heavy fog enveloping the roads which made it nearly impossible for any source of light to pierce through the gloom. This did not bode well for Desdemona and her friends as they dared to venture through the treacherous weather in order to reach their destination. The humble village of Bran should have been a welcome sight by now although from where the unlucky travelers were currently stranded, Desdemona had her doubts. To make matters worse, her best friend, Veronica, shoved a crumpled map of Brasov, Romania into her boyfriend’s hands and demanded answers. Her hot-headed friend was teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

“Desmond, are you sure we’re headed in the right direction? None of this seems to make sense!”, Veronica exclaimed as she nervously rummaged through her shoulder bag for yet another cigarette. She struggled to light her cigarette this time, the harsh winter’s wind blowing hard against her bare hands caused them to shake violently.

 Desmond sighed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his messy chestnut brown hair, pushing wild dark curls away from his eyes.

“You think the shopkeeper gave us the wrong directions to fuck with us because we’re tourists? I knew we were gonna get shit signal out here in the bum fuck middle of nowhere but come on, the old guy looked knowledgeable. Can’t blame me for trustin’ him.” Desmond casually replied with a shrug. He then took a moment to straighten the map again before folding it neatly and tucking it into his pocket.

Desdemona was of the same mind as her twin. It seemed likely that the locals would be completely burnt out from the flocks of American tourists invading their hometown just to squawk about the castle that inspired Bram Stoker’s Dracula. How exhausting it must be to constantly point out where to go to book a tour or who to call to arrange such things when the internet exists. In hindsight, Desdemona should have known better than to bug the polite yet obviously impatient shopkeeper about their vacation plans.

“Think about it, V, Desmond has a point. The guy probably gave us the run around for shits and giggles. You know, it would have been fine taking a wrong turn and then having to backtrack all the way back into town, but we should have just stayed the night at the Inn. Now we’re outta gas and it’s fucking freezing out here.” Desdemona added, now hugging herself tightly and occasionally rubbing her arms to keep warm for as much as possible.

Veronica growled but relented as she took a long drag of her cigarette, her foot resting against their rented vehicle. She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Snowflakes began to drift downwards, and it only fueled Veronica’s anxiety about being stranded in the middle of nowhere in the dark. “Alright, alright, we can either freeze to death in this piece of shit,” Veronica began as she kicks the van for good measure, “or we can freeze to death out there looking for shelter. I think I see a path over there that we can take to find what we need. It might lead us to people who can help us, or it might lead us to certain death. All I know is that we need to make a decision now, it’s starting to snow.” Desmond grins and wraps his arm around Veronica’s waist, pulling her close and pecking her on the cheek. “To certain death it is! Des, grab the essentials and let’s head out. According to the map, there are a few small villages in the surrounding area. Chances are we’ll stumble into one of them eventually and find shelter. We’ll get this mess sorted out.” Desmond eagerly stepped away from Veronica’s embrace and stepped towards the beaten van.

After a few moments of scrounging around for what they deemed important, Desdemona ended up with a backpack full of snacks, water, spare clothes, and the first aid kid. Veronica settled for an entire carton of cigarettes and a few spare lighters because you know, it was “absolutely essential” to her survival in a foreign land. Desmond found a flashlight and decided that going light would be preferable to him in case they ran into any trouble. They paved the way forward, following the path that strayed away from the lonely sliver of road. Turning back to get a final look at the abandoned van, Desdemona swallowed the surge of fear that was beginning to creep up on her. She had seen enough horror movies in her lifetime knowing that this probably wasn’t going to end up well for her little group. The logical side of her brain, what little rational thoughts she had left, gnawed their way through her brain begging to be voiced out and heard.

‘Turn back around, it’s safer to stay put and wait until morning! This is dangerous and you know it!’

Desdemona reluctantly glanced back at her brother walking ahead with Veronica hand in hand and the younger twin suddenly stopped in her tracks. Maybe she should stay behind just in case while her gregarious brother searched for help in these mountains; after all, he was far more easygoing and could easily charm the most stubborn of fools into helping him.

“Des, what’s wrong? I thought we all agreed that we should stick together.” Veronica called out to her, uncertainty lacing her tone as her eyes flicked back and forth between the van and a terrified looking Desdemona.

Nervously fidgeting in place, Desdemona struggles to settle the conflicted thoughts warring in her mind. She knows that staying behind and waiting for help would be the wisest course of action, but there was safety in numbers. There’s danger lurking beyond the vast expanse of mountains that surrounded them and she would be utterly defenseless if left alone. Desdemona’s instincts were begging her to go back to the van but the connection she shared with her twin demanded that she follow him through the sketchy path that would most likely lead to their demise. She couldn’t let anything happen to Desmond, she would never forgive herself if something happened to him out here.

With a shaky resolve, Desdemona straightened up and gazed back at Veronica with a small smile on her face. “I’m just nervous, you know. Desmond and I binge watched all the Wrong Turn movies last Saturday so being out here alone in the dark is uh, freaking me out a little. I’ll be fine, though, let’s just keep going.” Desdemona lied as she rushed over to her best friend who rolled her eyes at the revelation.

“No wonder you’re acting all sketch, Des. First of all, binge watching horror movies the weekend before your vacation was stupid as hell so now you’re all hyped up over nothing. Secondly, Wrong Turn sucks. Y’all should have binged Hatchet, Danielle Harris is so hot!” Veronica declared, eager to get conversation going as the three of them trekked through a rocky and narrow trail that led to who knows where.

Desmond was quick to reply in defense of his favorite horror movie franchise and Desdemona was thankful to hear them bicker back and forth. The conversation drowned out the sound of cold whispers tickling naked branches in the distance, the loud crunching of their footsteps on the snow-covered ground, and ravens crying out above them. It was so eerie and something about it all didn’t sit right with Desdemona. She hooked an arm around Veronica’s free arm and together they discussed their favorite horror movies. Veronica could tell her best friend was still a little spooked, so she pulled her closer until she was pressed against her side to provide as much comfort as she could give.

The trail continued to narrow the further they moved along but nothing they observed thus far gave the impression that that anything was out of the ordinary. When they reached a clearing, Desmond sighed with relief. His breath steaming the frigid air was nearly the only thing they could see ahead if it weren’t for the flashlight providing what little comforting light source they had. The snow fall began to pick up the pace but it wasn’t blinding, thankfully. Desmond brushed aside large shrubs and stepped further into the winding path, coming to a full stop when he realized what lay ahead of the weary travelers.

The trio stared in awe at the overpowering sight of a 15th century castle looming over a quiet village sheltering underneath a blanket of darkness, or what Desdemona assumed was its shadow. No amount of fog could hide the monstrosity that was the architectural brilliance of this castle that Desdemona saw before her very eyes.

“Desmond, honey, where the hell do you think you’re going? Don’t leave Dezzy and I behind!” Veronica suddenly shrieked as she sprinted after her overly excited boyfriend down the hill that led into the village. Desmond turned around and could only offer a sheepish smile with a shrug before eagerly running into the unknown. Desdemona tore her gaze away from the castle and spurred into action, jumping and running as fast as she could in order to catch up with her twin.

Desmond was energized by both the cool crisp air and the promising sight of civilization, but that energy was quickly drained out of him when he encountered something wholly unexpected. Veronica reached the eldest Hawthorne sibling and was about to admonish him for leaving the two frightened girls behind, but she was quickly shushed by Desmond. Desdemona quietly approached the scene, her eyes widening when she realized that this was not the village of Bran at all.

They had indeed reached a small village but it looked completely obliterated. The houses looked shattered and broken, as if something gigantic and menacing had come through and picked away at the people that once inhabited this community one by one. Desmond cautiously led the group forward, calling out for any signs of survivors. This wasn’t on the itinerary…

Veronica was on the verge of tears, her hands covering her mouth as she observed the tragic scene before her. Every now and then, she would step into a broken home and call out to somebody – anybody- only to step back out with a grim look on her face. She pulled out her cell phone and attempted to dial emergency services only to be met with disappointment.

“There’s blood.” Desmond says quietly. His eyes peer over the trail of fresh blood and fear grips him the moment the flashlight scans over the corpse of a rotting horse. “Fuck, that stench – we need to get the fuck out of here now!” Veronica cries, gagging and turning away from the horrific view.

Desdemona would have expressed an equally strong reaction had she not felt a sense of…wrongness abruptly assaulting the atmosphere. The moment they stepped foot into the village, the environment reacted to their presence and that did not sit right with Desdemona at all.

“Desmond, do you hear that?” Desdemona asked, her voice laced with terror. Desmond Hawthorne heard the fear in his sister’s quivering voice and it made him feel uneasy. “I don’t hear anything, Des.” He replies as he reaches for Veronica’s hand and squeezes it tight. The couple began to frantically look around them as they slowly backed into Desdemona. As soon as they grouped up again, both Veronica and Desmond wrapped themselves around the youngest sister. The oppressive silence sent a whole new wave of fear over the group before something insidious could be heard approaching them in the distance. Desdemona gasped when she heard maniacal giggling and it was getting louder. A fluttering of what sounds like wings -bats, ravens, perhaps- advancing towards the group sent chills down Desdemona’s spine. What the hell was coming after them?

Desmond flashed his light from side to side before it settled on the massive black ball of insects that instantly appeared before him. The insects dissipated and somehow revealed the shape of a human being wearing a dark robe and hood. The only thing he could truly make out was the color of a red pendant wrapped around dainty, pale skin and a blood smeared smirk. Desmond’s heart dropped in absolute horror and panic immediately set in.

“RUN!” He screamed, taking off with a terrified Veronica in tow. Neither of them looked back to make sure Desdemona was following. The flashlight dropped, and it briefly circled the ground. The flickering light revealed two other black masses of insects approaching the younger Hawthorne sibling who was paralyzed with fear. All she could hear in that moment was delirious laughter coming from the women that revealed themselves two seconds later, the insects dissolving into thin air right before her very eyes.

The crazed woman standing directly in front of Desdemona leaned forward and took her time sniffing her pretty prey who stared at her with petrified gray eyes. Desdemona found it alarming that despite the lunatic’s appearance, dried blood caked on her lips and unruly red hair and a wild, untamed look in her eyes, she found her quite…striking. Perhaps she was going mad. None of this made sense, how could this be happening right now?

“Mmm, sisters, look at what I found. Such a pretty young thing all for me and she smells oh so delicious.” The woman with the green pendant spoke, giggling madly at the profound effect she had on Desdemona.

 “Daniela, you’re delusional, she’s mine; I’m the one who picked up on her tasty scent!” The one with the red pendant spoke after she turned her attention to the only human who didn’t run from them.

The brunette with the yellow pendant reached over and yanked on Desdemona’s hair so hard back, Desdemona thought her life was over. She bared her teeth as she skimmed her nose across the young woman’s neck. Her tongue darted out between blood smeared lips and left a wet trail, causing the smaller woman’s breath to hitch at the unwelcome contact.

“Mmm, she smells so utterly divine. Bela, by the way, it wasn’t you who found MY new pet, it was me! You ungrateful wretches always want to touch what’s mine!” The hooded figure’s grip on her hair tightened and Desdemona whined, causing all three women to delight in her torment.

What Desdemona couldn’t figure out was what they wanted to do with her exactly and why they were fighting over her like three starved wild dogs fighting over a piece of meat. She needed to get out of there fast. “LET GO OF MY SISTER, YOU UGLY CUNTS!” Desmond’s angry voice broke through in the distance and all three creatures turned their attention on the young man who dared interrupt dinner time.

Desdemona decided this was the time to take advantage of their distraction and she quickly slipped away, sprinting as fast as she could to the nearest unoccupied house. Desmond, relieved that his sister broke free from whatever those things were, spun on his heel and ran the opposite direction. He could only hope that all three of them would make it out of this godforsaken village alive.

All three women threw their heads back and laughed wildly into the air as they knew catching their prey would be much more satisfying when they caught them alone in isolated surroundings. It added to their fear and it made the blood taste that much sweeter.

“The hunt is on, sisters. Leave the pretty plaything alive, but the others, we will present to our dear mother as gifts. We’ll make the new pet watch mother undo their very lives; it’ll only make her that much more delicious when we have our fill.” The one with the yellow pendant stated as she sniffed at the air, shuddering when Desdemona’s irresistible scent filled her nostrils once more.

Desdemona found refuge in a large house a few yards away and slammed the front door shut when she ran inside. She quickly assessed what she assumed was the living room, she found a bookcase and summoned whatever strength she had and brought it down in front of the door. She heard something clawing at the door the instant she blocked the entrance, the door shaking violently and mad laughter filling her ears once more.

Desdemona shakily reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight and began to look for another way out.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, Jesus Christ! What the fuck are those things!? Where’s Desmond? Is Veronica alright? How the hell do I get out of here? I just want to go home!’ Desdemona’s mind was running through a million thoughts per second but she couldn’t for the life of her settle on anything that would give her a moment’s peace. She was sobbing uncontrollably as she explored the dark home, her hands stretched out in front of her as she searched for anything that would provide answers to her problems. When she found a door near the kitchen, she cautiously opened it and cursed the eerie creaking sound that followed. It was discovered that the door led to a cellar of some kind and Desdemona rushed down the stairs without closing the door behind her. She slowly scanned the large open space and saw that this home had been recently ransacked or rummaged through. Clothes were scattered across the floor, furniture had been broken in half and tossed carelessly to the side but Desdemona found a hallway beyond the room she was in. ‘That must be the way out. Hurry up and grab something to protect yourself with!’

Desdemona carefully tip toed around the clutter, her phone flashing from side to side but to no avail, she couldn’t find anything that would prove harmful to whatever those monsters were outside. The woman nearly tripped over and fell when her foot stepped in something thick and wet, causing her foot to slip forward. Desdemona quickly steadied herself on a cabinet but it didn’t make her feel any better when she realized her fingers were covered in a thick, red substance.

Her breathing growing heavier, Desdemona flashed her phone light over to the cabinet only to find that it was covered in blood – a lot of it, to be exact and it was still dripping on the floor as though it were fresh.

All color drained from Desdemona’s face when she heard pained howling coming from the village; it was Desmond and he was screaming for help. Her twin was in danger and here she was selfishly trying to find a way to preserve her own life.

She quickly twisted around to run towards the howling but she stopped dead in her tracks when a black mass of insects appeared before her. The cloaked figure could only be identified by the color of her green pendant and a delirious smile plastered on her face. Fresh blood dripped down her chin and Desdemona’s eyes reluctantly followed the pool of blood forming at their feet. There was a sickle in her right hand and it was covered in blood, much to Desdemona’s dismay.

Desdemona began to tremble, overpowered by the frightening sight and the implications that followed a bloodied sickle carried by a madwoman. “The sound of your heart hammering against your chest is like music to my ears, pretty thing. Do not fret, my beauty, the moment we met I knew you were special. You’re meant to be mine, we’re meant to be!” She whispers madly, her tongue wetting her lips as her eyes rake over Desdemona’s body slowly and deliberately.

Desdemona doesn’t know what she’s talking about and she doesn’t want to know. Before she could form any kind of response, she’s pinned against the bloody cabinet behind her. She gasps in surprise and that seems to trigger the creature into action.

Desdemona screams as the hooded woman lunges at her collarbone and pierces through her skin with her razor sharp teeth. Desdemona weakly clutches at the woman’s shoulders, growing lightheaded from the sudden blood loss that was occurring. Feeling the woman about to collapse in her arms, Daniela pulls back and savors the taste of her blood. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she sloppily licks the blood off her mouth and regains what little self-control she had left to preserve her pretty plaything for a little while longer.

When dazed gray eyes meet hers, Daniela’s cold, black heart skips a beat. She had never seen anything more beautiful. So she raises her sickle, causing Desdemona’s eyes to widen in panic and Daniela can’t help but giggle a little.

“Don’t worry, my beauty, I’ll be gentle with you. The hideous man-thing and his bitch aren’t going to be as lucky as you, I hope. You deserve special treatment.” Daniela whispers, her fingers caressing her prey’s tear-stained cheek before swinging the sickle with full forced into the back of Desdemona’s thigh.

Desdemona remembers a high-pitched shriek escaping her but nothing else seems to come to mind after that. She remembers her vision blurring and a creeping darkness soothing her to sleep but what happened after, nothing. She enters the haunting abyss that welcomes her with black tendrils pulling her from reality, sleep coming to her easily. With better luck, she’ll never have to wake up again.

Only fools believe in luck as the nightmare has only just begun.

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.7)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] [CH.6] previous chapters

[CH.8.] next chapter (unavailable, check back or follow for updates!)

You fell into a distrustful panic that night now that knew the screams of the woods were also where Jungwon and his friends lived. You weren't sure if you should be scared for those group of boys or be scared of them. You'd be lying to yourself if you tried to believe it was only a coincidence the boys had a place in the forest of violent cries.

You questioned your sanity, were they murderers? Was that their dirty secret?

Your conclusions were endlessly dark, repeating themselves countlessly. You had never wanted to sleep away your thoughts more than ever. Eventually, you got exhausted from your thoughts. It was mentally draining to try and tear apart the possibilities of the situation, you didn't have enough evidence to be so sure. You lay in a cold sweat as you drifted off into a deep but horrible sleep.

You dreamt in full awareness. The boys with blood spilling down their hands and onto their swan white clothes. A red mess everywhere on the cream walls of an orphanage that overflowed with rays of a full moon. Although you were scared of what you were witnessing, you could not wake up even if your life depended on it. It seemed as if the dream had sped up your sleep as you woke in what felt like a few seconds. Calmly, you awoke in the misty autumn morning in a crushed up pile of blankets. You sit up to peel your wispy curtains away from the window to get a good look at the dark forest that steamed with a muddy blue fog. All of the memories of Jungwon yelling at you for just being near the woods flooded your brain as you stared. This time you were determined to search deep into that forest and get to the bottom of its mysteries as it called out to you.

"Y/N I think you're going to be late for your first class." Nana knocked before bursting into your room in full uniform, not a wrinkle on her shirt.

"Y-you're already ready? What time is it?!" You glanced back and forth between your pyjamas and uniform that draped over a random stool as you were too lazy to fold nicely the night before.

"We didn't want to wake you... So we went ahead thinking you'd come down eventually." She yanked you out of bed, gripping your forearms tightly before backing out the door, "Don't be late! We promised we'd keep out of detention this year!"

Within a blink of an eye, you slip into your uniform, slinking your arms through the holes of your blouse and adjusting your legs to be cover by your ashy plaid skirt. With your bag and binder in hand, you sprinted across your campus to the gymnasium where you found yourself arriving, everyone already in the proper athletic attire.

"You're late."  Your health teacher grit her teeth in visible disappointment. Your teacher knew how unlike you it was to be late as your classmate's eyes followed your every movement.

"P-pardon me." You clawed your fingers through your bedhead, speeding to the change room, nervous she'd assign you detention.

You let out the deep breath you were holding in as you got into the empty locker room, frustrated at yourself for waking up so late. You can't help but feel upset that you let your thoughts get the best of you and ruin your perfect attendance. Truly you were ashamed but began to see no point in continuing to rush the pace at which your day was running.

The locker room door opens and you see Kyungeun peep herself inside, "Y/N? You alright?"

You pull your boxy shirt flat down, zipping and tying every spot on your tracksuit jacket, "Yeah, sorry rough morning..."

"No worries, I just said that I had to go to the bathroom but I really just wanted to check on you." She had a motherly sound to her voice which comforted your bad start to the day. Perhaps she was in a good enough mood for you to ask her briefly about her relationship with Sunghoon.

"Kyungeun, I think I need to just clear the air... I saw you with Sunghoon in the library." You tilted your head in regret as to whether or not you were starting off the conversation in the right direction.

"Y-you saw us???" Her face drained to an unrealistic hue, "Lord... Sunghoon will kill me if he finds out you know."

"Stop! What do you mean? He'll kill you? Is it because I know that you two are dating?"

"NO! Nevermind then!" She cut you off right after the question mark in your voice. She looked rather relieved at your response which could only mean their relationship was much different than you had presumed. "I just can't tell you about our relationship I'm s-sorry it's between just us two."

"So then it's okay for him to flirt with my roommate?"

"No? Are you serious right now ?!" Kyungeun panicked.

"So you are dating?" You gave a smug smile.

"It's not that..." She was visibly frustrated not being able to describe herself in words, "I'll tell you this, I'm bound to him..." She ran her index finger along the reddened gash on her neck  He's blackmailing me."

"So you're like his pet?" You held in your laughter, you knew you should be more serious but you had no other way of trying to help Kyungeun express the gist of her relationship.

"I'll tell you another day...  Let's just go before the teacher gets mad at you for taking so long to change."

...

After your class full of advanced leg exercises and mediocrely fun games, you got halted by your gym teacher, "Y/N can we speak about how tardy you were today?"

You got fearful of her sentencing you detention, freezing up from your heel upwards, "I'm so sorry, I just had a lot going on last night..."

"Sweetie, I know this is your first late in my class but unfortunately the school does not tolerate tardiness in the way I believe it should be." She tapped her chin a few times, "I have no other choice but to send you to detention but it'll just be a half-hour at lunch." You felt better that it wasn't for a full hour or two after school but you were still dreading the idea.

"Can't you just let me off the hook? I promise it'll never happen again" You pleaded desperately.

"I'm afraid I cannot... If the other teachers or students knew you didn't get sent to detention I could get into trouble for giving you 'special treatment'. I know you didn't mean to love but I cannot afford to lose my job so I'll see you then." She patted one of your shoulders, giving it a little squeeze to cheer you up.

"I understand..." You nod with your head that already hung low.

"It's in the English room down the hall, there is usually only a few students there. Some familiar faces."

...

That rest of your morning would only pull through faster as you got some weird anxiety over walking into the detention room. You could not concentrate at all in the class you had before lunch. You felt as if you were too good for the detention group of kids, but here you were about to join those you criticized. Karma.

"Make sure to answer the questions 8-16 on page 300, you have the rest of the class to do so. Any questions?" Your physics teacher stood with his hands balled up behind his back.

Realizing you had no physics book in your bag after triple checking, you shot your arm up in distress, "ME! I forgot my textbook today... I was in a rush this morning." You faked a polite laugh with the expectation your teacher would have a spare.

"I'm afraid I don't have an extra, anyone willing to share?" The teacher lifted his head to scan the class.

"I could share." Jaeyun winked making your face recoil

"Perfect! You'll probably have to move your stuff to his seat then." Your teacher suggested.

With a thick coat of disappointment, you pulled a chair up to Jaeyun's desk to which he kneed you annoyingly.

Within just a few seconds of settling down, you complained "How the hell am I supposed to write? There is no space... Desks are made for ONE person."

"Okay then don't use my textbook and fall behind" He sneered.

"Wait wait, I just had the greatest idea Jaeyun." He gave you puppy eyes when you said his name, "What if you look for half the answers I do the other half then exchange?" You whispered so the teacher could hear.

"I can't trust you make good answers though..." He jokingly sighed.

"HEY! Okay or work together for every question to get it done twice as fast? Oh wait but then I'll be the one carrying the team... Bummer..." You stretched the corners of your mouth until your lips disappeared.

"I honestly don't feel like doing work so lose-lose." He pouted and rolled his eyes.

"Same... I can't even focus, I'm having a rough morning..." You openly admitted, "I got sent to detention for being late in my first class."

"Detention? Didn't think you were the type." Jaeyun had an unexpectedly sweet giggle which contrasted with his lower tone voice, "Heeseung and Sunghoon get sent often, surprised they aren't kicked out of the school."

"They get sent often?!" Your voice rose to which you quickly quieted down to avoid trouble, "Will I see them there?"

"Why? Looking forward to going now?" Jaeyun whispered with a grin, causing you to scoff.

"As if..." A sudden idea coming to mind, "Say Jaeyun... About the party... Heard you guys have a place in the woods...?" You became aware that you could pry some information out of him that would help you when searching the woods that night.

"Yeah, we do... We don't normally tell people about it." He said casually yet still with some sort of caution.

"So why tell us then?"

"Haven't had any visitors in a while..." Jaeyun toyed with his mechanical pencil, using the plastic part to trace around his lips, "Awfully interested aren't you?" He seemed to have caught on to your intentions, shifting the mood of the conversation around in a full 180.

Suddenly the dream you had earlier slipped into mind, causing you to sit in growing discomfort, "What do you want from my friends and I?"

"Nothing sweetheart... We're more interested in you than your dormmates. You look like someone we know." He laughed like a psycho and it creeped you out how the two of you were just poking lighthearted jokes to something much darker and mysterious, "I know you're afraid of us, you know far more than most girls." His voice dropped to a whisper as he watched the teacher behind you to make sure he didn't see the both of you slacking.

"Kyungeun knows your secrets too she said she'll tell me."

"She's acting like we don't know her secrets." Jaeyun closed his textbook, "Y/N just remember this, Kyungeun is half as bad as we are and half as pure as you are."

"Alright class, that's it for today's class. This textbook assignment won't be due until Friday have a good lunch." The teacher interrupted, causing your conversation with Jaeyun to end on a hanging note.

"Good luck with detention."Jaeyun hushed in your ear.

_______________

p.s, i changed the cover lol don’t make fun of my photoshop skills!

[hopecountyisforlovers]

Case#0122208

rating: spooky stuff in here but otherwise general

pairing: none

words: 1727

summary: Statement of Roger Tao regarding his time lost at sea. Original statement given August 22nd, 2012. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

( this was my go at writing a statement about my newest magnus archives s/i, alexei underwood ! i wont give away much more than that BUT i will say tumblr really fucked up the formatting on this one. it was set up to look like a transcript on word. oh well )

----------x----------

Archivist

Statement of Roger Tao regarding his time lost at sea. Original statement given August 22nd, 2012. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

Archivist

I've always loved the ocean. The crash of the waves against the shore, the cries of sea birds, the way the sun dyes the water orange and red, the reflection of the moon against the rippling water. The serenity of it.... on the beach at night, it almost feels like you could easily be the last person on earth.

I used to.....to find that a comfort, believe it or not. That it was just me- that I had no worries in regards to taking care of anyone else, no family, no job that I hated that I still had to get back to once my short respite was done. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, and my kids, I just- a man needs his alone time, doesn't he? An escape from the... hectic pace, of everyday life.

It was like a routine- every Friday afternoon, after getting off work, I would make the hour-and-then-some drive to Whitstable Beach. I'd bring, you know- a folding chair, maybe a beer or two.. and stay just long enough to get my fill of what I was seeking all the way out there. Peace, I guess.

That night was like most others- I had had a few. Not enough to be proper drunk, mind you, just enough to put a buzz in my head and a tingle in my fingertips. The sun fell in the sky as it always did, and still does- the moon shone up off the water, full and fat and round, a distorted image that didn't quite match its partner in the sky.

I had just risen from my folding chair to stretch, having sobered up enough to consider making my way home, when... when I saw someone, standing a ways down the beach from where I was. It sent a shiver down my spine- how long had they been there? It's a scary thing, to suddenly realize one is not as alone as they previously thought they were. But even more frightening than that was... was their stillness. The water washed in over their trouser legs, soaking them, but... but they just. Stood there. Staring out over the ocean. Just like I had been, I guess, but. Something about looking at them... made me feel....cold, despite the balm of the summer night.

I didn't realize I was getting closer until I could start to make out their features. It was a man, albeit a feminine one- long, mist-and-water colored hair flowed down his back, blew in the sea breeze that didn't seem to bother him despite his wet clothing.

I stopped, dead in my tracks, making for the first time that night an audible shuffling sound as my feet planted in the damp sand. It was barely loud enough for me to hear, and...and yet...

He turned, slow, fluid- and looked right at me.

His face was soft and round, I could tell even from a distance. But his eyes... they glowed, bright blue-white, with all the force of a sunny sky. It hurt my eyes to look at, and I felt all at once vertigo, and that bone-chilling cold- as if I had been shoved off of a frozen mountaintop.

I could have sworn I saw him smile.

And... and then. Well, here's the part where you're going to start thinking I'm crazy. Or that I was drunk, I guess, but I swear to you that I wasn't. Even if I had been... No. No. I saw what I saw. What happened to me... what happened to me was real. It had to be. He has to be.

He turned away from me, and... and he walked onto the water. Not into it. On top of it. The man took a few steps, looking back at me expectantly- I wanted nothing more than to run, at that moment. To turn the other way and get back in my car and never come back to this beach again. Except that I didn't- that was what my rational brain was screaming at me of course, but.... but something much, much deeper, more ingrained, a part forgotten by modern society... it begged me to follow him.

So follow him I did.

I truly don't know what I thought I would accomplish. In a way, it almost didn't matter- when I took my first step on top of the water, he turned back to look at me. Up close, his smile was sweet and demure. He giggled, honest to God giggled, and although looking him directly in the eyes made my knees weak and my fingers cold and my stomach feel like it was about to evacuate it contents, I couldn't look away. But no- I didn't want to look away, anymore than I didn't not want to follow him.

It's embarrassing to say, but... that was all it took. I had forgotten my family, my life- all I wanted was to see that smile again. It dominated my mind so easily that I didn't even notice when he had begun walking forward again, away from the safety of the shore and into the deep, inky black of the ocean we were standing on.

I don't know how long we walked. It could have been minutes, hours, days... but the moon never moved from it's position in the sky, so I figured it couldn't have been too long. The ocean stretched on and on for miles and miles, and I watched him. I kept such a close eye on him, the new focal point of my universe, the only thing that mattered. Every so often, when my legs would go weak and I'd consider the traitorous thought of turning back, he would stop and turn around, eyes lighting up the night, smile making my heart race, and.. and I would be refreshed.

It went on like that....until he....disappeared.

There isn't a better word for it, really. He turned back towards me, smiled his incandecant smile, and....and it happened so instantly, like he had been swallowed up by the mist and fog that rested gently atop the water, that I thought for sure it must be a trick of the dark. Surely, he had to still be there. Surely.

But.. but he wasn't. He was gone. And I realized with a newfound panic when I spun around that the shore was gone, too. That I wasn't even sure what direction it was in, or if we had been walking in a straight line the whole time. It wasn't even a pinprick in the horizon.

That wasn't... wasn't the worst part of it, though. If it had been cold, to look at him, being without him now felt like...like whatever warmth lives inside us and makes us human had been all but extinguished. I fell to my knees on the water, but not through it, somehow, soaking my pant legs, clutching my chest where that flame had once lived so happily like it was the bloody hole it felt like as heaving sobs overtook my body.

They wouldn't stop, incensed by the pain that ripped and tore it's way through my chest. Tears fell to join the ocean water, the mist that covered it rising and swirling and wrapping around me like it was overjoyed by my pain. I know... I know I heard him giggle, again. The same way that he had when I had first started following him.

I don't know how long it was, how long I spent out there, pouring my anguish and grief into the unforgiving ocean, before the energy left my body so thoroughly that I collapsed onto the water. Only that when I awoke on the beach the next morning, waterlogged and with a sore throat but no worse for wear, families were just starting to gather on the sand, setting up blankets. One of the children even waved at me, although they were quickly chided by a protective parent for doing so.

I packed up, got back in my car, and drove home. Linda was speaking with the police, when I got there and was all but overjoyed- if not incensed, to see me in one piece. She told me... told me that I had been missing for almost 3 days. She hugged me, and I apologized, but..

I wish I could say I never went back to that beach. I wish I could say that I didn't see him in my dreams every time I manage to fall asleep, beckoning for me to follow him, smiling that angels smile. I wish I could say that I didn't still want to. I wish I could say I'm still a devoted husband and father of two.

But it would be a lie. I'm there every night, now. Watching. Waiting. I need... I need for him to come back. I need to see him again. The empty space in me that he created.. the light that he snuffed out. It hurts. It hurts. I can't.. laugh. Or smile. When I try, it... it just sounds. Looks.

People have stopped inviting me out. I think my wife might leave me.

I just have to see him again.

Archivist

Statement ends.

This one is rather easy to corroborate, but much harder to actually prove, if such a thing is possible. Police reports do indicate that Mr. Tao was reported missing by his wife Linda on the 10th of August 2012, stating that he had been gone without a trace for 48 hours, a missing persons inquest that was succinctly called off when he returned home the next day while the officers interviewed her.

I had Martin do some digging, and unfortunately, Mr. Tao was found dead shortly after a motion was filed for his divorce. Someone who lived in a home near Whitstable Beach reported seeing him simply walk into the ocean and never come back out. The police eventually did locate his body- cause of death was, unremarkably, drowning. On his person was what seemed to be a letter, although it had become soaked through to the point it was quite unreadable.

One can only hope it was not a love letter.

[lesdemonium]

romtober day 8: love breaking a curse

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2696 Summary: Geralt receives a contract to take care of a creature haunting the castle overlooking a village. Geralt decides he might be able to save the creature instead. 

AN: ok i'm gonna warn y'all before you start--i make no fucking effort to wrap this up. this is basically 3kish words of an idea for a longfic, which has been rattling around inside my brain and hopefully will get written eventually. but if i get any angry messages about the curse not getting broken or me leaving this without any sort of resolution, i will give you sassy responses. your expectations should now have been adjusted accordingly!

if you like this idea and would like to eventually see a resolution, lmk! i find it fun and would love to get back to it, if there's an interest.

read on ao3

The castle was freezing. Geralt had barely stepped past the threshold before he could see his breath fogging out before him. Outside, it had been a spring morning, on the cooler side, but still held a hint of warmth. Inside, the air felt harsh against his skin, cold enough to cause pinpricks of pain.

It was dark and dusty. Cobwebs covered everything and the furniture and paintings showed a level of degradation Geralt wasn’t expecting. The castle hadn’t been deserted for long, maybe a few decades at most, and yet it looked as if it had been abandoned centuries ago. The cold, the rot, the stillness of the air, the overwhelming feeling of decay, it left Geralt feeling as if he’d never be warm again. This place reeked of sadness.

As he stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind him, he heard something shift in one of the rooms beyond what he could see. There had been reports of a specter, of a monster, of a something haunting the deserted castle, and the forests around. The villagers were scared to go near it. They were convinced if they drew too close, they would die an unspeakable death. Better to have a Witcher go and take care of the problem for them.

Geralt followed the sound, though he was unsure if it was the creature or just an animal that had looked for warmth. He dispelled that thought, however--it was so much colder inside than beyond the castle walls, he was certain no animal in its right mind would seek out this place for protection from the elements. Something shifted again, and a cracking sound echoed through the halls. Geralt pulled out his silver sword and stepped carefully, silently.

He came to a large, open room, with wide windows, many of which were shattered. A ballroom, maybe. Once, it might have been grand, but now it was just as destroyed as the rest of the castle. Geralt edged a foot forward, crossing the threshold.

A voice, high and inhuman, hissed its way through the air. “Go away,” it said, and Geralt whipped his head around to find the source. 

There, in the corner, he saw it. What, exactly, he was seeing, Geralt wasn’t entirely sure. The figure was humanoid, almost, but much taller than the average human with long limbs and sharp angles. The skin was partially translucent, like glass, but splattered with hundreds of flecks of black and dark gray and brown to muddy its appearance. It stretched as tall as it could, its arms and legs lengthened to make it appear more imposing than it actually was, and if Geralt was human, he was sure he would cower at this icy creature that was easily ten, twelve feet tall.

Geralt was not human, however. And despite the way the creature attempted to make itself look like a threat, Geralt noticed the way it remained bent in on itself, and as far from Geralt as he could get. 

“What are you?” Geralt asked, pulling himself fully into the room.

A scream rung out in the room, high and hissing like the voice had been, and Geralt had to brace himself against the wall to keep from being flung. The windows rattled and Geralt heard one high above shatter, only to rain down on the creature. It did not react. Instead, it seemed to close in on itself more.

“Go away,” the creature insisted again, but now the voice sounded more human, and far more sad than Geralt was expecting. A man’s voice.

“I’m a Witcher,” Geralt said. He returned his sword to his scabbard, then held his hands out in front of him, palms facing the creature to show he meant no harm. “I was hired to investigate this castle, rid it of whatever was haunting it. But I think you mean them no harm.”

“Go away,” the creature repeated. He sounded desperate now, and Geralt saw the way he pressed up against the wall behind him, like he was trying to get away from Geralt. Geralt stopped.

“I can help you.”

“No one can help me,” the creature answered. Ah. So he could say more.

“I could try.” Geralt looked around. “Is this your home?”

“It was.”

“What happened to it?”

The creature was silent for a long time. Then, the room erupted into color, and light, and warmth. The debris littering the floor was gone, and it revealed a beautiful marble floor, so clean and shiny Geralt was sure he could see his face reflected in it. He was right, the room had been grand, with the large windows letting in so much light. Geralt started when a body moved through him--a specter, a visual trick the creature was creating just for him. Couples danced, and now Geralt could just barely hear the music, and the far-off sound of voices and laughter.

“A witch,” the creature said, and it felt as if the voice was in his head. 

Geralt saw her now. She was beautiful, in a floor length gown and a deep purple cloak that flowed around it. The witch stepped up to a man, young and beautiful and dressed in finery, who held out his hand. She accepted, and they joined the other couples dancing.

Just as quickly as the couple appeared, they faded into nothingness, and Geralt watched as the entire illusion faded into the disrepair it was now. The creature slumped, all of his energy gone.

“Were you the man?” Geralt asked.

“I was,” the creature answered.

“What’s your name?” Gerlt asked.

“Go away.”

“What’s your name?” Geralt asked again.

“Go away!” the creature insisted, his voice taking on the hissing, harsh, inhuman quality again.

“I want to help you.”

“No one can help me!” Now the creature stood up again, and Geralt tried to brace himself again for the scream, but it was louder this time, more powerful. Furniture moved across the floor, and the wind whipped around him, picking up in intensity as it carried off the creature’s final “Go away!”

Geralt barely registered escaping, but he found himself outside the castle and wind slammed the giant door shut behind him.

--

The next day, Geralt wore the furs he had unpacked from Roach’s saddlebag. She was safely stabled in the village, and Geralt left her with the stablehand and thorough instructions.

Getting to the castle was no easier the second time as it was the first. It was perched high on a mountain, surrounded by large, tall, thick trees. It made little sense--surely there would be an easier way to travel between the castle and the village, as this castle would have presided over the village. Perhaps the creature had a hand in making it inaccessible.

Impossibly, the castle was colder when Geralt finally pushed his way inside. The door had been blocked off with debris, the creature clearly thinking that a little effort and a thick tree branch were enough to deter Geralt from his mission. They were not. Geralt was made of far sturdier stuff than that.

Geralt had barely cleared the doorway when he heard that hissing voice again.

“Go away!”

“No,” Geralt answered. He planted his feet, sure that another display of the creature’s power was coming, but after a few moments, Geralt still only heard silence. He made his way back to the ballroom.

The creature was not there.

He searched the surrounding rooms, but there was no sight of him. There were about a hundred more rooms in the castle that he could have searched through, but Geralt had a feeling even if he did, the creature would be one step ahead of him.

“You could make this easier on both of us and just show yourself,” Geralt said.

The creature’s only answer was a quick burst of wind that blew leaves into Geralt’s hair.

“Have it your way,” he answered.

Geralt made his way back to the ballroom. This was where he set up his supplies. He had planned for an extended stay this time, complete with rations, extra bedding, and even a tent in case his host was feeling like manipulating the weather. By the time he was finished, he caught a flickering in the corner of his eye, and turned to look.

The creature was now in the corner, right where he had been the day before, and whatever magic he had used to make himself invisible was wearing out. Or he was choosing to allow Geralt to see him.

Satisfied, Geralt sat himself upon his bedroom, his legs crossed, and faced the creature. For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

“Why are you still here?” Geralt asked.

“It’s my home.” The creature sounded offended, but at least his voice was human.

“Are you stuck here?”

The creature didn’t answer, but the wind blew another clump of leaves at Geralt’s face.

“What’s your name?” Geralt asked, to help squash the grin growing on his face.

“Jaskier.”

Geralt hummed. “That’s a bad name for an ice monster.”

This time, when the leaves hit his face, he didn’t bother hiding his grin.

“What are you?” Geralt asked.

“Shouldn’t you know that, Witcher?”

“I’ve never seen anything like you,” Geralt answered, figuring honesty was probably what was needed here to get the creature--Jaskier--on his side. “And you didn’t tell me much about how you came to be.”

The wind swirled in the room, and Geralt watched the leaves spin in circles as Jaskier, presunably, mulled this over. At least they weren’t flying toward his face this time.

“Cursed,” Jaskier finally answered.

“By the witch?”

“Yes. Marikka.”

Geralt hummed. “You knew her. Why did she curse you?”

Behind him, a door slammed. Geralt turned to look at it, and saw it swaying open again, apparently broken. He hadn’t even felt the wind, but when he looked back to Jaskier, he could just barely see the pinched expression on his face. It was hard, from this distance, but the message was clear. Back off.

Geralt wouldn’t.

“How am I supposed to help you if you don’t give me any information?” Geralt asked, rolling his eyes.

The door slammed again, and this time Geralt didn’t look. Over and over, it banged against the threshold, but as it went on, the less pointed it seemed. The wind kicked up around him, swirling the leaves and debris and creating little tornados. Jaskier didn’t scream, but it was a near thing. Geralt felt the anguish there.

“I can’t help you unless you help me,” Geralt said, standing up. He held his hands out again, and tried to inch closer to Jaskier. “I can’t break this curse if I don’t know what it is.”

“Then don’t!” Jaskier screamed back, sounding more like a wraith than he had yet. Geralt kept moving closer, even as the wind picked up, his steps slow and steady. This time, he’d make it to Jaskier. He knew he would.

That was his last thought before Jaskier sent a burst of wind directly at him. So strong Geralt flew off the ground, and right into a marble pillar. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

--

When Geralt woke, he was in another room entirely.

The bed he was in wasn’t destroyed, exactly, but it certainly showed its wear and tear. Cloth just didn’t last that long, and as a result the canopy above him was in tatters, and the blanket over him didn’t hold in the warmth as much as his furs had. Still, he noted the effort that Jaskier--it had to be Jaskier--put in, even if Geralt was shivering from the moment he woke up.

“Jaskier?” he called, as he sat up. 

There was no response, and Jaskier wasn’t in the room. Geralt stood and--checking to make sure there were no damages, or that he was healed of any that had been there--made his way back to the ballroom. When he got to the door, it wouldn’t budge.

“Jaskier, I know you’re doing this,” Geralt said patiently. “Let me in.”

“No. Go away.” Jaskier still sounded as if he was in the same room, rather than behind the ornate door.

“That hasn’t worked every other time you said it, and it won’t work this time.” Geralt pushed on the door again, and it budged, but swiftly closed again, knocking Geralt back. “Please don’t launch me again.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, and he did sound remorseful. Miserable, even. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t,” Geralt answered. “You were in pain. I knew you were lashing out, and I still got too close. I forgive you.”

There was a long silence, and when Geralt tried the door again, it gave way. The room was even more destroyed. Broken glass was everywhere, and while he was out, the chandelier had given way. It now lay destroyed in the center of the room.

“Jaskier, what happened?” Geralt asked, turning to face Jaskier, back in his place on the far side of the room. As always.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier repeated, sounding no less miserable than he had before.

“So this… was you?” Jaskier didn’t answer, but Geralt took it as an admission. “Because you were upset? Guilty?”

“For hurting you,” Jaskier agreed.

“I’m fine, Jaskier. I heal. I’ve gotten worse injuries than a smack to the head.” He bent to pick up one of his own belongings, which were now strewn about the room. “I’m going to set up my camp again. I won’t approach you, but I might have to get closer.”

The wind kicked up again, but only strong enough to blow some of his belongings closer to Geralt. Geralt smiled, then set himself on the task of setting up camp again. By the time he was finished, the sun that had been shining through the windows had grown low in the sky. Geralt had a feeling, with his long healing rest, that he wasn’t going to sleep much today.

“You can leave this room,” Geralt said. It was as much a statement as a question. He was pretty sure Jaskier didn’t use wind to carry him the whole way upstairs, into the bed, and under the covers. He didn’t seem strong enough, except when he was upset. That meant he had to have carried Geralt. “Why don’t you?”

“I like it,” Jaskier answered.

There was a pause, then slowly the room started to change back into that magnificent vision Jaskier had given him before. Jaskier, it seemed, remembered this room in sunlight and warmth, despite the growing darkness outside and the ever-present cold. This time, the room was empty of people, aside from a small boy playing a piano. His melody was rough, clearly he was still learning, but as the song went on, he grew better. He grew older.

Soon, Geralt was looking at the boy turned young man. Jaskier, it had to be. Jaskier wasn’t dressed in his finery this time; instead he wore a pair of trousers and a loose-fitting shirt, unbuttoned far below what Geralt was sure was appropriate. The music he played was beautiful and had a great deal of character and humor pressed into it. He had never heard this song before.

“You like music,” Geralt said.

The image before him changed rapidly. Images of Jaskier playing a piano, images of Jaskier dancing, playing a lute, singing, writing. They went too fast for Geralt to get a good look at anything, but he knew this was a correction. Jaskier didn’t like music, Jaskier loved music.

“How long have you been here?” Geralt asked.

The image of Jaskier changed. It was horrific, Jaskier’s take on his transformation. The memory-Jaskier’s body twisted and cracked in unnatural, painful ways, sharp edges breaking out of his skin and enveloping him in ice. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his legs and arms grew long, long, longer, until he was the creature Jaskier was today. The warmth crept out of the room, and slowly the ruin grew, until Geralt found himself right back in the destroyed ballroom, all illusions gone.

“A long time,” Jaskier answered.

[adiwriting]

Sunday Mornings 5/?

Notes: This one is slightly more angsty than most as it’s a hurt/comfort ficlet dealing with Alex post a PTSD episode. But I felt it was still appropriate to include because who doesn’t need to see Michael being the soft, careful, loving boyfriend we all know he’s capable of being? And who doesn’t want to see Alex get loved on? 

Week 5: 

This is really not how Alex planned on spending their Sunday. In fact, Michael had specifically mounted a new television in their bedroom so that they could marathon Netflix from bed all day. They’d planned on grilling steaks for dinner and then were going to take a drive out to the desert to watch the stars like they used to when they were kids. 

In absolutely zero versions of his plans did he expect to be sitting on the couch numb and trying to come down from an episode as Michael switched back and forth from doting boyfriend wanting to make sure Alex was okay, and cleaning up the mess that has become the living room. 

See, approximately two hours ago, they’d been startled by a very large crash that had triggered a PTSD episode. Turns out, there was a leak in the roof and after the last few days of heavy rain, the water had eventually caused part of the ceiling to cave in. Which was all good and fine, nothing to panic over, truly. Except, for a moment Alex hadn’t been 30 years old and lying in bed with his boyfriend in his own home… Instead he’d been 17 and it hadn’t been a crash he’d heard, so much as the slamming of a door hitting the wall as it was thrown open. And that moment had been enough to cause Alex to be trapped in his brain for the next hour and a half. 

Michael had understood in a way nobody else could. When the crash first went off, Alex has a foggy recollection of Michael jumping out of bed instantly and using his powers to throw the dresser against the door. After that, Alex had dissociated. Everything was blank and the only reason he knows that he had a panic attack is the way his body now aches in a specific kind of exhaustion that only comes after being in full blown panic mode for an extended period of time. 

It’s funny, everyone is always careful around Alex with things like guns and fireworks. They always assume they understand what his PTSD triggers will be and relate it back to his time in the military. His triggers are both more complicated and simpler than that. They’re raised voices. Hands on his neck without warning. A hammer hitting a nail. And, apparently, the sound of the ceiling falling in. 

He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. He knows he needs to stand up and help Michael. The living room is filled with water and bits of plaster. There’s probably not any saving his keyboard, though Michael assures him that he can fix anything. The guitars had thankfully stayed dry despite their cases being soaked. There’s a crack in the coffee table and… 

Honestly, Alex can’t bring himself to care. The entire thing, all of this, feels so far away despite the fact that it’s happening right in front of him. 

He curls up on the sofa, lays his head down, and stares blankly ahead. 

“Why don’t you go back to bed,” Michael says, kneeling right in front of him. “I can get this all sorted out.” 

Alex just shrugs. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t say what he should — that he doesn’t want to be alone right now. That he just needs Michael to hold him for a while longer. It’s stupid. Michael is doing what he needs to be doing. He’s trying to stop the water from continuing to come into the house and do even more damage. If Alex was more aware, he would care. When Alex comes back to himself, he will care. And he’ll be appreciative that at least one of them was cognizant enough to act. 

But right now, Alex is alone and scared and just needs to feel like he’s loved by a single person in his life. 

Michael reaches out to place a hand to Alex’s cheek, careful not to get close to his neck. “I’m going to get the water to stop, the rest of this will keep until later, okay?” 

Alex nods. 

“I love you,” Michael tells him firmly. It’s exactly what he needs to hear, but the words get lost in a fog before they reach his aching heart. He simply nods again, knowing he’s supposed to be saying it back, but unable to find the words. 

Michael stares at him for another minute or two. Alex tries to call up the energy to say something, but he just can’t. Michael leans over and kisses his forehead before standing up and getting back to work. 

Michael could have been working for hours. Alex doesn’t really know. Time passes and Alex feels all of it and none of it. Each second feels like a stab in the heart and each breath in takes a conscious effort on his part. But then, the sun begins to peek through the clouds and Alex could have sworn that Michael said it wasn’t going to stop raining until the afternoon. Regardless, time passes and eventually Michael is in front of him, pulling on his hands until he stands up and Michael leads him back to bed. 

****

They are watching Netflix and Alex is settled in between Michael’s legs, laying back against his chest. Michael’s arms are around him, hugging him from behind while his chin rests on his shoulder. Every so often, Michael kisses his neck and whispers loving words into Alex’s ear. It’s exactly what he needed and he loves Michael that much more for knowing that without Alex having to ask. 

“I’m sorry I ruined our plans,” Alex whispers. It’s the first thing he’s said since the whole ceiling incident. 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Michael assures him, nose nuzzling into his hair. Alex can feel Michael trying to get him to look at him, but he can’t, not yet. He’s still too embarrassed over the entire thing. Both for the panic attack, and for how clingy he’s been since. 

“We were supposed to go out and see the stars,” he argues. 

Michael grabs his chin and gently guides him until he’s looking out the window. A flash of lightning lights up the entire room. Has it been raining long? he wonders.

“You were saying?” Michael says. It’s soft, he’s still being careful with Alex, but Alex knows if he were to look at Michael right now, he would be wearing that smartass smirk of his.  

“I don’t want to be like this,” he admits. 

Faster than Alex can process, Michael moves and is sitting in front of him, staring him down. The energy in the air is crackling and Alex should probably be scared, but it’s Michael, so he’s not. 

He cradles his face with his hands and says very firmly, “You are not broken, Alex.” 

“But I—” he starts to argue but Michael cuts him off. 

“We all have shit. I wasn’t exactly chill when it happened either. There is nothing wrong with you.” 

Alex wants to believe him, but it’s hard. He can still remember the ways in which his dad used to taunt him for having panic attacks when he was younger. Alex knows that it’s not his fault that his dad used to beat him and now he has PTSD from it. He knows that. But knowing something is logically true and really feeling it are two very different things. 

“Listen, I can promise you that there is going to be a day where I lose my shit completely and you have to be the calm one taking care of my ass. And when that day happens, you’ll cuddle me, remind me that I’m loved, and do whatever else I need and never once judge me just as I don’t judge you,” Michael says with complete certainty. “We all deal with things in our own way. You and I had a shitty childhood, so of course we were triggered by a loud noise. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I just want to be past it,” Alex whispers, leaning his forehead against Michael’s. He closes his eyes and draws on Michael’s strength, it helps. 

“You are,” he whispers back. “You became so much better than the man he tried to raise. You’re strong and fierce and yet still open and vulnerable and loving. So fucking loving.” 

Alex takes a shuddering breath and allows Michael’s words to sink in. It’s easy for Alex to hear his dad’s voice in his head during his weakest moments… But even back when they were 17, Michael’s kind words always found a way to drown out his self-doubts. He takes several more calming breaths before he reaches out to wrap his arms around Michael’s shoulders. 

He opens his eyes again, starting to feel more like himself again. Michael smiles at him and gives the deepest sigh before saying, “You’re so fucking beautiful, I just can’t.”

Alex blushes at that. Michael’s hands are at his hips and his thumbs have snuck under his t-shirt to rub soft circles against his bare skin. 

“So what you’re saying is that you’re only with me for my looks?” he teases, tentatively, trying it out. 

Michael barks out a surprised laugh, moving until he’s straddling Alex. 

“Absolutely,” Michael says with one of his trademark cocky smiles. He runs his hands through Alex’s hair, settling at the back of his neck. 

Alex tilts his head up to kiss Michael. It’s a slow kiss. Neither of them push for more, but neither of them rush to pull away either. When they do finally come up for air, Alex realizes that he’s still pretty tired from the day’s events, but he feels back to normal at least. 

“Thank you for dealing with the ceiling,” he says, running his hands up and down Michael’s back, giving his boyfriend goosebumps. 

“It’s not dealt with yet,” he explains. “I fixed it enough that the living room wasn’t going to keep flooding, but tomorrow, I’m going to have to get up there and patch the roof properly.” 

“I can call somebody for that,” he tells him, wanting to make sure he doesn’t feel obligated. Tomorrow is Michael’s only other day off.

“Like hell you will.” Michael looks offended. “You think I want you calling Mrs. Ramsey’s son? I don’t need you mooning over some overjacked construction guy. I saw the way you used to look at him back in high school. No thanks. He does shitty work. Nobody is touching that roof but me.” 

“I did not used to moon over Conner,” Alex argues. 

Michael snorts at that and Alex rolls his eyes. 

Okay, perhaps he’d had a mild crush on Conner back in freshman year. Who hadn’t? Conner had been a senior and the star quarterback and anyone with eyes could see how attractive he was. But it wasn’t like Alex had ever even talked to the guy. 

“You just want me to moon over you,” Alex counters. 

Michael has been consistently spending his days off finding various projects around Alex’s house. First it had been fixing the fan in the bedroom. Next, he’d worked on the plumbing to make sure that the bathroom sink could get cold water. Currently, he’s been slowly replacing the bad floorboards around the house. Alex hasn’t complained. He loves coming home from work and seeing Michael deep in whatever project he’s working on… And Michael caught on after the third time Alex had practically jumped him. 

“Obviously,” Michael says, leaning in to give Alex another kiss before climbing off his lap and settling back against the headboard. 

“Are you going to wear an orange vest and one of those tight little shirts?” Alex asks, snuggling into Michael’s side as he picks up the remote and resumes playing the show they’ve been watching. 

“I’ll wear whatever you want me to, Babe,” Michael says, wrapping his arm around Alex and placing a kiss to the top of his head. 

Alex is suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of love and safety and forever. 

“I love you.” 

“Yeah, you’d better,” Michael says with a laugh. “It’s gonna be hot as balls up on that roof.” 

Alex sits up and shakes his head. He’s serious. Michael’s amused smile fades into a soft one that Alex knows he reserves just for him. “I love you too.” 

Alex settles back into his arms and they watch the show until it reaches the opening credits. Alex is about to reach for the remote to skip past them when he hears Michael whisper a soft, “You scared me today.” 

Alex closes his eyes in shame. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, I’m not mad,” Michael says. “I just… I’m saying it wasn’t easy for me to watch you like that. I’m glad I was here and could help, but… it was still scary.” 

Alex takes a deep breath. Yeah. He’s sure it was. “I’ll talk to my doctor about adjusting my meds.”

Michael doesn’t say anything in response, but if the way he squeezes Alex’s arm is any indication, it’s the answer he’d needed to hear. 

The credits end and they both focus their attention back on the show. 

Tagged: @callieramics​​

As always if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!

[withoutawar]

Maria didn’t bother trying to get out of bed and surprise Steve when she woke up. Even if he pretended to be asleep, he’d be awake the second that she left the bed. It was adorable. So Maria planned ahead and stashed Steve’s birthday present in the bedside table. “Happy Birthday, Steve,” she murmured, reaching out and carding her fingers through his hair. Steve blinked awake and smiled up at her, catching her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “Morning,” he responded, his voice heavy with sleep.

She grinned back down at him. “Morning.” Maria reached for the bedside table, pulling Steve’s present out. “Your present, a reward for making it another year around the sun.” It didn’t feel like enough to show him how much she cared. Nothing ever did, though. Buying things for Steve was always a struggle, and so Maria focused on presents that meant something, rather than what they cost. She knelt beside Steve, handing it over and watching him intently. This one felt like more of a gamble. She’d spent months tracking down everyone she could think of, borrowing personal journals and paging through them in an effort to find something that the history books hadn’t already splashed across the world. She’d found lists of swear words and jokes, breakfast ‘menus’ and drink recipes, and other things that were probably considered too mundane to mention in a textbook. Maria had carefully copied out everything in their handwriting, creating a small journal full of every good memory the Commandos had managed to make for themselves.

“Wait.” Maria reached out, stopping Steve from opening it. “There’s another — it’s not really a present, but. Here is the deepest secret nobody knows,” she quoted softly, gripping his hand and lifting up her shirt until he could see her ribs. “I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart.” Steve’s birthday was etched across them, under her heart. She’d dropped the nineteen, and even with it being Steve she hadn’t wanted to get his initials, just in case.

“Okay, now you can open it.”

He is so used to people making a fuss on the fourth of July he forgets that his actual birthday is yet to come around. He also forgets that for the first time in a long time, there are people who know when his real birthday is --- and he happens to be in love with, and shares a bed with one of them. He expects the morning to be like any other, waking up next to Maria, not catching the words she'd woken him up with until a few seconds later when his brain kicks in through the sleep fog.

He sits up against the headboard as she reaches into the drawer, smiling when it's a journal that she pulls out. He wasn't expecting anything at all --- they've already given each other so much --- so it shocks him in the best way. He takes the journal, itching to open it, even more so because she tells him to wait, but oh, he would wait for this . . .

' Woah . . . ' he breathes, well and truly shocked, immediately reaching out to touch the ink on her skin where it reads his birthday. His birthday. His real one, too. Not the one that America knows of, not Captain America's. His one. Him. ' Can I touch . . . ? ' he asks, thumb brushing the skin just under the ink, before he gets her permission, and he runs a rough thumbpad across the numbers. There, forever, etched unto her ribs he exists. The gesture is heavy, and warm like a blanket, unlike the slow, fiery burn of their coming together which was at times like playing with fire until they got it right. It was the uncertainty that had caused that, and this was the opposite.

' Oh my god, ' he mutters, and drags her into his lap so he can kiss his love and gratitude hard into her mouth, his hand never leaving her ribs. ' I love you, ' he says he eventually lets her go, ( to be continued. ) ' I love you, I don't even --- ' He doesn't have the words to describe how much the gesture means to him. He kisses her again in lieu of explaining. A good deal of processing and kissing later, he remembers he has another present to open. He keeps her in his lap as he opens the journal on the bed, one-handedly flipping through the pages of handwriting he immediately recognises, and it's not Maria's.

She's floored him yet again with the thoughtfulness of the gift, and the effort, and his head slumps against her chest as he skims the first couple of pages, the handwriting read in voices in his head that he thought he'd already forgotten. He closes the book for now because it was so much to take in, and first, he needs to take in what the woman in front of him has given him.

She's coloured a life that he'd resigned as done and dusted with new purpose and hope, proven that his heart was capable of loving still despite the losses its suffered, and proven that he himself could be loved, while helping him fill out the shell of a person he'd slowly been turning into before they'd met. ' I don't deserve this, ' he murmurs, ' but thank you. I love you. ' And he kisses her again.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/72230025

Chapter 50

"Hunt, it's me", Nick said to the bobby who had started to investigate the suspicious noise that came from the backyard. "Mr. Lightbearer, you had me worried." "Oh, no worries, Hunt. I just needed to stretch my legs a bit", he waved him off. "I see..., well, you know, you should tell me whenever you leave the house. It's dangerous to be outside at night. I could keep you company. Or better, you pop a Joy and stay happy inside." "But Hunt, your colleagues take care of me just fine. And they need a bit of attention now and then", he said with a wink. "Uh...haha, sure, but I must insist this time. You shouldn't break the curfew anymore, I suggest for the next two months." Nick began to wonder. "Are you serious? What's wrong?" "Oh, nothing, Sir, just a precaution. The curfew applies for everyone after all." "Hunt, I don't talk to you when you're like that". Nick turned around and left. Fancy, he thought. Suddenly it's all about law and order or what. I should abandon him outside for a few days, without my usual hospitality and free meals, so he remembers how exhausting law and order actually are.

When he heard loud music from inside, his mood lit up again. He liked that his house wasn't empty anymore, that he came home to be welcomed by friends. The song that was playing wasn't one his own, what was a welcome change. The noise however sounded as if they were tearing down the house. He quickly got rid of his wig and everything that didn't appeal to Morrie, and went to see what was going on. They didn't notice him because of the music and also because they were absorbed in a game of football, by the looks of it. Nick walked into the middle of the room and picked up the ball. Immediately, he had their attention.

"Hey, Nick, you're back. How are you doing?", Chris asked. "Did they really let you go, or did you break out?", Brad wanted to know. He made Nick grin. "Guess what, they really let me out this time." "You're looking good", Matt said. "Thanks..." Nick adjusted his hair. "...for your age", his friend added and Nick sighed. "I can't believe I fell for that." "Just kidding, you're really looking good", Matt came around. "Do you feel as good?" "Yeah, I'm snug as a bug", Nick answered happily. "I'll outrun you all!" And with that, he kicked the ball and continued the game.

They cheerfully ran around, free from all the restrictions outside. Since Nick had seen the Garden District, he knew what he missed in town. The few sessions of 'Simon Says' in front of the TV weren't the same. And the way his friends romped about, Nick assumed they felt the same, even though none of them would confess it. He didn't care anymore if something got broken, it would be worth it. Only when the ball hit the wrong spot on his head, he had to pause.

Pressing a hand against his head, he moaned. "Did I hurt you?", Brad was alerted. "Let me see." Nick reluctantly put his hand away and let his friend palpate the wound. "You have a real lump there, buddy." Nick jumped when he pressed against it. "Ow, be careful, it's painful enough as it is!" "That wasn't the ball", Brad stated and wiped Nick's hair aside to take a closer look at it. "No, I got it this morning", Nick admitted, shooing Brad's way too curious hands away and hiding the lump again with his own.

"Wait...during your therapy?", Morrie asked. Nick shrugged. "What are they doing with you?" "You also have bruises on your arm", Matt noticed. Nick's sleeve had moved up and revealed the spot where the headboy had grabbed him. Nick promptly shoved the sleeve back down. "It's nothing, okay? I'm alright." "Did they give you some healing balm?" Chris looked worried too. "Sure." "Doesn't look like it, though." "Since when are you a doctor?" Nick protested.

Of course, he hadn't patched himself up when he had been with Arthur. He hadn't mentioned the bruises again, so that Arthur wouldn't feel bad about them. In addition, he found they weren't too bad if no one touched them.

"You need that balm at least", Brad decided. "You have some at home, right? Come on, sit down." He shoved Nick to the next couch in sight. "If it makes you feel better", Nick moaned and did as he was told. "Just behave Nicky, that one time we're trying to help you". Chris patted his shoulder. Nick mused. "You should find some balm in my bathroom cabinet." "I found it yet", he heard Morrie shout from the upper floor. When he came back, Brad snatched the balm out of his hands and joined Nick on the couch.

Opening the lid, he said: "This won't take long. Just put out your little arm, my darling." Nick rolled his eyes and showed him the bruise. While Brad rubbed the balm in, he had to admit that it's cold was refreshing and he liked how his friends cared about him. "Something on the other arm?", Brad asked. Nick shook his head and pulled up his sleeve to prove it. The arm was unscathed, at least the lower part. But Brad didn't go so far as undressing him. He stroked his hair away and this time, Nick helped him. He jumped again and held his breath when his friend touched the wound.

"What kind of doctor would let you go without healing you?", Morrie said shaking his head. "I'm glad I could go", Nick promptly said. "And I didn't make a fuss about it, so they probably didn't notice - are you greasing my hair?" Brad chuckled. "I can't do anything about it. Just wait a bit before you wash it out." "Okay." "So, that's it." Brad eyed his work. "Or is there more?" Nick shook his head. "If it happens again, just tell us. It'll bother you more if you ignore it and you need to be fit for your next performance." "Oh, that's why", Nick said grinning. "And I thought it's about me." "It's not always about you, Nicky", Brad teased him, laughing and leaving to put the balm back. Nick acted disgusted. "And I let you live here, smashing my furniture." "Hey, we didn't break anything yet", Matt fought him off, tossing the ball to Chris. "How boring", Chris said catching it. "I guess we're getting old." "We're getting wise", Matt corrected him. Chris laughed and made a dumb face.

"So what, fancy another match?", Nick urged them. "If you can", Chris answered, more seriously than teasing. "Come on, I'm not an invalid." When Brad came back, Chris asked him: "Can Nicky play with us or should he go to bed?" "Hey", Nick protested. "I'll do what I want, If you like it or not." He stuck his tongue out. "Adorable as always, our little one", Brad said. "That's fine with me but don't cry later." "We'll see who's crying." They played on and Nick took care that he wouldn't hurt any of his bruises again. He indeed had more, but he wasn't keen on showing them all. He managed not to pause the game again and they played until they were dead beat and gathering around his bar to relax.

"I'm so hungry", Nick said eventually. "I haven't eaten anything since this morning. Why don't we go somewhere nice and stuff ourselves?" "Good idea", Chris agreed. "Do you remember the 'Swing A Leg'?" "Oh, sure, how could I forget that?" "I'm afraid I'm too tired to swing any legs", Morrie said. "And when I remember it right, they put more value to their dancing than their cooking." Matt chuckled. "That's true. I wouldn't go there if I was really hungry." "Did we ever try the Avalon before?", Brad asked. "Yeah, only for a hundred times already", Nick said. "Yeah, you, Nick, but us ordinary mortals haven't been as lucky." "That's true", Chris agreed. "We only had breakfast once. We should go for a real meal this time. I think we deserve it." "Alright, okay", Nick gave in. "We can even sleep in my suite so we don't have to leave before curfew." "Sounds like a great plan", Brad approved.

They put on the most unflashy clothes they had, so they could walk to the hotel without being bothered. It also helped that most of the Wellies were still at work. The band was cheerful. Nick changed glances with Morrie to make sure he had fun too. When Morrie's look couldn't be more loving, it made Nick's heart beat faster and he was smiling happier than everyone else on Joy. When they said goodbye to Constable Hunt, the man shouted: "But be back before curfew, will you?" "Don't worry Hunt, we'll stay overnight. Just take good care of my home." "Of course." Hunt seemed to be very duteous.

"What happened to him?", Nick wondered loudly. "He's so petty all of a sudden." Chris stepped in. "First of all he should be like this, if only you didn't have such priviledges..." Nick rolled his eyes. "And secondly, there's rumours again." Nick had a bad feeling. "What rumours?" "Uh well, when we had breakfast in this café..." "Café Luna", Matt helped him out. "Yeah that. People were talking...They said Foggy Jack sent another one on holiday last night..." Nick felt sick. "Then we should indeed be careful." "We are. We'll stay in the hotel." Chris shrugged. "Really, if Foggy Jack was real, don't you think we would know what he looks like? Think at all the bobbies that patrol here." He pointed at a Constable who just passed by them. They greeted each other and went their ways. "...and still nobody ever saw him", he continued. "Yeah...it's weird...", Nick said. "But who would make this up? And why?" "Doesn't the fog cause halluzinations if you stay in it for too long?", Matt asked. "But you know if someone is dead or not." "Guys, this is all very interesting, but if you don't plan on becoming Downers, you should probably change the topic", Brad commented their conversation. "If Nick's asking...", Chris defended himself. "He deserves to know after all."

Nick looked around to all the happy Wellies, walking by the colorfully patterned facades. It was hard to believe that something horrible had happened in here, only a few hours ago. He racked his brains but couldn't recall what he had done that night before he had woken up with Arthur. He had gone outside because he had wanted to be alone and think. And then what? Then he must've stayed somewhere, but his mind was all foggy. For all he knew, he could've actually been in therapy. Had he visited James? And he had brought him back to his tunnel as he had done it before, even though Nick had no clue how? He liked this version much more than this nagging suspense.

The band had long moved on to happier topics. Soon, they ascended the stairs to the Avalon Hotel and found his golden statue. "Look who's there?", Chris asked. "No idea, I've never seen this bloke before", Nick said dryly. "Are you their honorary guest or something?" Chris climbed the pedestal. "No, it's only for the convention...they don't like me much in here, actually", Nick admitted, watching him. Chris patted the metal. "How much did it cost to set this up?" "I don't know, Virgil took care of that. But don't worry, we could set up the entire band, so he won't be lonely anymore." Brad laughed. "That'd block the entrance for good." "We could make them bigger, so people can walk through under our legs", Matt suggested. "That would scare everyone off", Morrie stated. "Oh, come on, Morrie, don't you want to be cast in gold?", Chris asked from up above. "I like golden records more", the pianist said. They laughed, Chris left the statue and they went inside.

Nick was glad they laughed it away and didn't complain about how unfair it was. There were more statues of himself in the hotel, that caught Nick's eye just now that he wished they weren't there. His friends didn't mention them and he hoped it was because the luxurious furnishing distracted them. They didn't marvel as much as Arthur had since they were used to expensive hotels already. In the restaurant, he sat down next to Morrie, shortly touching his foot with his own. "Do you know that our record is a best seller?", his lover asked promptly. "Yeah? I had no idea! You have to tell me everything that happened today!" "Virgil told us", Brad explained. "He was quite busy and didn't give us the exact numbers, but he sounded quite pleased." "So, we made it". Nick beamed at him. The news raised his spirits. He looked forward to finally be popular and wanted again. Shortly after, they received the menu and began to leaf through it.

"Can you recommend anything?", Morrie asked him. "I suppose you tested this extensively." "I know what you would like", Nick answered and turned the page. Chris dropped the menu. "I can't decide. Why don't we take everything?" "Now come on", Brad said. "I'm serious. Just one big plate in the middle of the table, first the starters, then the main dish and lastly the desserts." "Okay, but can we take a pick? A few dishes per course or so? That should be enough", Morrie suggested. Chris grinned. "Nicky is hungry." "If it's not enough for Nicky he can place an extra order, right, Nicky?", Morrie asked. "It's gonna be okay, the helpings aren't too stinted."

Nick described the meals to them because he had tested most of them, also with Arthur, and so they took their picks. Then they started to talk about all the pubs and restaurants they had visited, the good and the bad ones, and happily exchanged memories. When the dishes were served, Nick thought about Arthur, who now had to do with his meagre supplies again. He considered to save something for him, if there were any leftovers. His friends were tucking in, just like him. Also Morrie, who tried to preserve his dignity, couldn't hide how hungry he was. Nick had always felt like only the Avalon's meals were satisfying, as if they treated them differently here.

"I guess I was right", he said to his lover who helped himself to a second portion. "Indeed", he said quietly, so that only Nick could hear it. "It's delicous. How come you never invited me for dinner?" "Uh...we've been busy with other things", Nick stuttered, developing a bad conscience. It had never occured to him how much Morrie had missed good food. "Also pleasant things", he added. Morrie smiled. "Never mind, Norrie. I'm just yanking your chain." Nick relaxed. "You're right though. We should have a dinner." "Surprise me", Morrie whispered, causing Nick's heart to beat faster. He loved that, their secret closeness, every little intimation, every seemingly random touch, all the whispering, exchanging looks, it made moments like this even more exciting.

Sometime, someone started with the colorful cocktails. Someone always started it and the others went along. Nick loved that stuff anyway. It reminded him of the pubs in their early days, where they had spent their hard-earned money. Sometimes they got free drinks, when the landlord liked them. Every pub had his own recipies. Of course, the Avalon had a larger choice and some of the old drinks he remembered fondly were out of fashion.

Brad seemed to have the same flashbacks because he said: "Do you remember 'Glowing Mojo'? You could light up the room with it, and it made your tongue and teeth all shiny. Now I wonder if there was Motilene in it." "They made all sorts of experiments with it when it was new", Chris added. "Why not for drinks?" "Oh, no, I don't think so. I know what Motilene tastes like", Nick said. They looked at him. "Long story", he waved them off. "The smell is better than the taste." They laughed. "I got something called 'Foggy Jack', that wasn't only puffing smoke but it also clouded my mind completely. I still can't recall what happened after one glass until two days later", Matt told them. "Or, you can't recall all the other drinks you had", Brad suggested. "Or it was the Joy", Chris said. "When it was new, it used to knock people out from time to time. Do you remember how they tried to make Joy drinkable? It was awful!" They enjoyed themselves and laughed a lot. The more drinks they had, the funnier it got. Nick found the courage to tell them stories about his solo-career and nobody did mind.

Suddenly they were approached by the hotel manager Murray Davis, who not too politely asked them to leave because of the noise they were making. "What do you mean, too loud?", Nick protested. "Mind you, we'll pay a massive bill for all this. You know what? If you don't let us stay, we won't pay for anything!" "I'll take you to court, how is that?", the manager fought back. "You'll lose anyway!" Morrie stepped in. He was the most sober. "Don't chance it, Nick", he said touching his lover's shoulders. "Why don't we go to your suite, where we are alone?" "If you want, Morrie, but I don't like to take that shit from him." "Come on, let's go", Matt assisted Morrie. "You've got liquids in your suite, right?" "Sure", Nick said. "But I'll pay you back", he hissed into Davis' direction. Morrie gently shoved him forward. "He really doesn't like you much", Chris stated. "Oh, he's always grumpy, even on Joy. He'll see where that gets him." They took the elevator to a very expensively decorated floor. The biggest door led to the Wonderland Suite. This room received more gaping because it outdid every hotel room they knew.

Nick quickly got busy at the bar, pouring drinks for everyone. He also had left some harmless party favors that he offered to them. Soon, they turned up the music to full blast and sang along. Nick, who was mellowed by alcohol and his party favors, fell into Morrie's arms. "Dance with me", he uttered. And then he span Morrie around. The band laughed and cheered him on. When they found the pool, they had other things to do. Nick blacked out into dream world eventually while dancing.

Wow, I can't believe this fanfic is now one year old! It's my life now and it's keeping me warm in these cold days. A big thank you to everyone who's still reading or just started to read, to everyone who liked, reblogged, everyone who left comments or even fanart <3<3<3 This fandom is wonderful and I'm happy to be here. Have a nice day, wherever you are and don't let these times get you down. You're a wonderful person!

[thosequeenboys]

Love Is Love Is Love - Chapter 4 (Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello)

Summary:  Ben, Joe and Alex prepare for Ben’s departure to film a movie in London, with all related emotions.

A/N: The next chapter will be cheerier, I promise, as the boys reunite - with some London surprises! Thanks to: @jessahmewren​ for your recent encouraging words that helped me reunite with my muse and work through this intense chapter!  You’re the Bee’s Knees! Thanks also to: @heybuddy-drabbles​ for ongoing support and listening to me kvetch while writing this chapter.  You’re the Cat’s Pajamas!

Warning:  This chapter has smut. I mean, the guys are about to be separated! It has an 18+ Only warning and a fire emoji on my Masterlist.  Some cursing too.

Tag List: @warriorteam1924​ @cardyandy​ @watercolouredreams​ @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​ @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​ @queensilveryrog​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @marianaletosnape​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @honeymazzello​ @igotsuckedintothevoid​ @oniriquex​ @roger-hardy-taylor​ @doctorqueensanatomy​ @chocolatekisses8​

June was the best month because summer was just starting, and it stretched out carefree before them. The spring perennials had dried into brown stalks and were now replaced with hearty hydrangeas in blue and pink hues.  The neighborhood’s evening rituals prolonged the seemingly endless days:  tonguing ice cream cones before they dripped from the evening heat, racing scooters on the sidewalk, chalk drawing on the pavement, telling jokes on the stoop.  The fragrant rose bushes arched over the iron fences that framed the small front-yard gardens.  The evening activities extended into the darkness.  Finally in bed, Alex found it hard to unwind despite Ben’s patient efforts.  Lots of chatter and three books later, he finally fell asleep.

This June would be remembered for preparations surrounding the inevitable separation. While Ben put Alex to bed, Joe ventured upstairs to the ‘extra room’ where infant clothes in plastic bins and baby paraphernalia were scattered among items they seldom used. Walking through the maze of random possessions, Joe found and hefted a large suitcase and duffle bag on wheels and carried them down the steps into their bedroom.

Ben was stretched on their bed reading a script, his long legs crossed at the ankles.  He raised his eyes at Joe’s entrance.

“I kept wishing these would magically appear, but….” Joe said, easing the luggage onto the racks he had set out.

Ben nodded and resumed reading.  

“Ben, Baby, you have to talk to him.  Start preparing him. It won’t really sink in until you’re close to leaving, but… You need to get him ready to separate from you.”  Joe said.

The phrase ‘get him ready to separate from you’ made Ben feel like he was punched in the stomach. Finally, Ben spoke. “I’ve been putting it off….I didn’t want to think about it. Just focusing on the script.  Compartmentalizing. I never thought the travel, being away, would have negative implications.  It seemed par for the course and even glamorous.  An Actor’s Life. I wasn’t thinking of a family. Now, it’s tearing me up to think of being away from him…and you.” Saying it made it real.   Images of his upcoming destiny started to come into focus: he pictured being on the outskirts of the city, working on set for grueling hours every day and then alone in his London flat at night, managing the basics-meals, laundry – under a fog of exhaustion.  It was as if he had to picture it to make himself accept it. Denial can only take you so far.

Joe climbed on the bed next to him. He could tell Ben was off in another place, anticipating the trip as he hadn’t until now. “Hey,” Joe said. “Don’t think about it tonight. Be here with me.”

Joe took the script tenderly, moving the Post-it stuck on the back to the open page.  He leaned over Ben and placed it on the side table, then opened the drawer to retrieve the lube. He kneeled in front of him, tossing the lube next to them.  He slid Ben’s t-shirt up, and with a combination of mouth and hands covered every inch starting at the waist band, pushing the garment upward to access more of that delicious, toned body.  Ben raised his arms and the t-shirt was removed and tossed as Joe straddled Ben, gliding his hands softly now over the smooth, bare chest.  “Joe…” Ben said, “Just…I want to feel you in me.” Joe pulled off his own t-shirt and removed his bottoms.  Next, Ben’s sweatpants and boxers were eased off and tossed.  Sitting back on his knees between Ben’s open legs, Joe’s strong torso arched back slightly.  It exuded a perfect combination of intensity and softness, confidence and vulnerability, as would their lovemaking.   The two naked partners eyed each other. Joe grazed Ben’s thighs, easing them apart, and the blonde closed his eyes, releasing an anticipatory moan, as Joe moved his hand to his husband’s hardening manhood. He worked it a bit as Ben gasped and thrusted to Joe’s rhythmic pulls.   Joe moved his other hand tenderly along Ben’s jawline which caused his lover’s eyes to flutter.  “Look at me, Baby.” Joe said. “I want to imprint your look – your passion and lust and love for me - into my brain.” He flipped the cap of the lube open, and Ben bent and spread his knees wider to allow full access. 

Joe rolled next to Ben and started to ease his dripping fingers into him, one at a time, feeling the resistance and grasp, followed by the release, allowing him to enter deeper.  Finally, Ben whispered, “Joe… God, feels so good.  I’m ready.”

Joe kneeled in front of Ben and pulled him toward his own hardness, which he lubricated generously.  He entered Ben slowly, propping himself on an arm, his other hand on Ben’s thigh easing it wider.  They moved so right, so easily as one, each advance joining them, sealing their love deeply.  Joe resumed stroking Ben, now fully erect, as their rhythmic thrusts quickened.  “I love you, Ben,” Joe panted.  “Love you,” Ben said.  They both moaned as they released, their smooth movements becoming jerky.  They disconnected, Joe rolling next to Ben, as they faced each other and kissed passionately.

The next morning, upon waking, Joe ran his fingers through his hair, last night a glimmer and reality looming harshly. “I need to get the apartment ready for Mariel. She’ll be here in a week.”  With Ben’s extended absence, single parenting would be challenging for Joe, especially with his Netflix consultation requiring monthly trips to LA.  The baby’s eventual arrival would add a layer of complexity. They hired Mariel, an au pair from Peru eager to come to NY, who planned to eventually study graphic design.  Her references boasted that she was a warm, loving and responsible caregiver.  While Ben knew this was a necessity, he was unsettled that their triad was vanishing. Sands would be shifting over the next year as a new normal emerged-a desired and exciting new normal, indeed. They would have to carve out a new family life with the arrival of the baby. The guys decided to hold off telling Alex about the baby until they reunited in London, figuring he could only process one big change at a time, the most imminent one needing to be addressed first.

After breakfast, Ben called Alex over and hoisted him onto his lap as Joe cleared the table, his eyes trained on the two of them.

“Hey, Buddy,  I’m going to be leaving for London in a few weeks for work.  I’ll be gone over the summer, but you and Papa will visit me in the middle, so it won’t seem like that long.  And we’ll FaceTime in between, so you can tell me all about your summer.  Alex listened.  “And, the exciting thing is you’ll have someone special to keep you company-a woman named Mariel.  She’s super nice and she can’t wait to meet you.  She’ll live in the apartment downstairs. She’ll take you to gymnastics and music, and she…”  

“ I don’t want ‘she.’” Alex said matter-of-factly.  Why would he? “I go to Lon-down. Papa too.”

“I know you don’t want someone else.  But, Papa has to work and go to LA sometimes.  I’ll be working so much and wouldn’t be able to spend time with you if you lived with me in London. So, Mariel will help take care of you.  It will take some getting used to, but I know you’ll like her.” Ben encouraged.   Alex had said his piece and didn’t see a need to prolong the discussion.  In his child-like fashion, he quickly scrambled to higher, more familiar ground. “Gymnastics.” he said, sliding off of Ben and proceeding to the foyer where he sat on the bench and waited for help with his sneakers.

“That went rather well,” Ben said eyeing Joe, not trying to cover his sarcasm. He knew this was the first of many discussions, and as the day of his departure approached, there would be more emotions all around.  For now, he packed a water bottle and some snacks and joined Alex to prepare to leave.  At the kids’ gym, Ben peered through the window in the parents’ waiting area. He gave himself permission to bask in Alex’s unrelenting joy as he raised and lowered the parachute with his mates, and ran into it when it was his turn, retreating to his spot before it fell upon him, his feet moving in time to his giggles.  Ben hoped the reality of their imminent family changes would land just as gently upon him as the parachute would have, had he not escaped its billowing descent in time.

So, it went like that leading up to the separation.  They’d mention it, Alex would listen and then deflect.  Joe, meanwhile, dealt with his own onslaught of emotions by pouring his energies into helping Mariel acclimate to their routines and home, the details of which he documented copiously.  She joined their excursions and began to get comfortable with them and dote on Alex.  Ben showed Alex images of London:  double decker buses, the London Eye, Big Ben (not named for Daddy), The Princess Diana Memorial Playground-hoping to build his enthusiasm for their reunion, while reinforcing that Ben would be in another place. Alex gradually registered the images and the impending reality.  He couldn’t ignore the clues that Ben’s departure was lurking: Ben’s sudden shopping trips to pick up last-minute items and Joe throwing items into the suitcase, packing and repacking.  Then there was the vocabulary associated with travel and separation.  The worst word, Alex decided, was ‘gone.’ It was concept he couldn’t fully wrap his head around, but it had a finality and a sadness.  He knew it meant that Daddy wouldn’t be with him.

Four days before Ben’s departure, Ben and Joe woke suddenly to loud wails. “OHMYGOD,” Ben bolted out of bed in his boxer briefs and tore down the hall to Alex’s room, where he found him sitting up in bed, tears falling off his face. “Alex, are you sick??”  Ben practically dove onto the bed and wrapped him in a hug.   Joe appeared at the doorway.  “You left and didn’t say bye-bye,” Alex said through tears.

“You had a bad dream! Of course, I’ll say good-bye and I’ll hug you…..I won’t leave without saying bye-bye. I promise,” Ben reassured.

The day before his departure, Ben brought Alex to the couch.  He took two small blue microfiber pouches from his backpack.  “I got us some things to help us look forward to seeing each other and remember our times together when we’re apart.  Want to see what I got?”  Alex nodded enthusiastically.  Ben handed him a pouch and helped him loosen the strings and open it.   Alex reached in and took out a puzzle piece.  Ben retrieved a puzzle piece from his own pouch, which he inserted into Alex’s, forming an octopus.  “When we see each other, our pieces will join.  But meanwhile, each piece is waiting for the other, just like we are waiting to see each other.”  Alex nodded. He reached into the pouch and took out a little whale statue.  Ben took out a sea turtle statue.  “We both have a sea animal.” Ben noted.  “When you come to London, we’ll go to the Aquarium!” Alex smiled.  Next up were a pair of small model airplanes. “When you visit me, you’ll get to fly on an airplane, and this one,” Ben said, retrieving his own, “will bring me home to you.”  Finally, Alex reached in and pulled out a glittery firm heart.  Ben took his out too.  “These hearts remind us that even though we’re not with each other walking or talking or laughing or playing or reading, we’re still together -- in each other’s hearts.”  Ben lined his red heart up on Alex’s chest, while he eased Alex’s hand that clutched his red heart against his own chest. They smiled.  Then, Ben put the items into their respective pouches. He leaned over and kissed Alex, who wrapped his slender arms tightly around Ben’s neck. That feeling was the most important thing he wished he could stuff into his pouch.

The final morning Joe’s eyes opened at 5:45.  They had 15 minutes before Alex usually woke up and a little over an hour until Ben’s departure. He rolled over and draped his arm over Ben, who was curled up on his side facing away from him.  Joe’s other hand stroked his blonde hair.  “Hey, pretty boy, how about a treat to start the day right,” Joe cooed in his ear.   Ben rolled toward Joe onto his back and Joe’s hands followed, draping one over his chest and the other on his forehead, fingering the blonde tresses.   He moved on top of Ben, letting his weight press into him.  Ben beamed up at him, wanting to take that feeling - the heaviness, the warmth, the familiar, perfect fit - with him.  They moved together urgently, clothed in boxer briefs, kissing as soft moans escaped.   Joe latched onto Ben’s neck, sucking him slowly, leaving fresh marks, the ones from the prior night had started to fade. Ben’s mouth found its way to Joe’s neck, leaving marks as well. Time of the essence, Joe slithered down Ben, taking Ben’s boxers with him.  

“Hey,” Ben crunched his abs with a raised head.

“Are you protesting?” Joe asked.  

“No, I mean, What time is it?? Alex will be getting up….” Ben glanced sideways at the clock.  

“I’ll make it quick. Lie back. I want you to leave you with a memory of me, showing you that I love you.”  Joe took in Ben eagerly, with focus and passion.

“Oh. God. Fuck. Joe.” Ben’s voice was low, and steady, his hips rising slightly in time to his quickening heartbeat.  “Yeah, like that. Fuck. Harder,” he directed. His clipped exhales were punctuated with a rhythmic chant, “Joe. God. Harder. Joe…” Ben felt himself so close to release, his hands tugging on Joe’s auburn locks, when the unmistakable voice called out.

“Daddy? Are you leaving?” It was a sad question, with a known answer.

Joe detached himself from a heavily panting and pink Ben, who held his breath to stop making any noise, his heart beating into his throat, his stomach in a tight curl. After a deep breath, Joe uttered firmly, “Alex, we need a few minutes to get up. Go downstairs and play.  We’ll meet you soon..”

“Ok,” the soft voice padded away.

Joe glanced at Ben eager to finish him.  “I can’t, he needs me….I won’t be able to…” Ben said breathlessly, his head raised.

“You can and you will, if I have anything to do with it.” Joe said.  He wanted to please Ben and have a few more moments of intimacy, delaying the inevitable. Joe knew it was time to pull out the big guns. “I want you to come for me, with my lips wrapped around you…sucking you hard, taking all of you in.  I’ll look up at you as you thrust into me, and release into me, looking so beautiful. Can you do that for me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Ben crashed his head into the pillow, aroused again, and Joe resumed his skillful pleasuring.  He added a gentle massage of Ben’s balls, causing Ben to resume his chant between moans. Ben came, Joe’s name on his tongue as the gestures slowed, and a final kiss was granted.

“Mission accomplished.” Joe smirked, easing next to his husband.

“God, you’re amazing.” Ben said panting. Then turning to Joe, he asked, “Do you think he heard? You know, when he was outside the door?”

“Heard you cursing?  Moaning? Telling me how to get you off? Chanting my name?  Probably. Look, he’s good in math.  Eventually he’ll figure out that you cursing PLUS you moaning my name over and over TIMES you sounding slightly bossy EQUALS you having an extra spring in your step.” Joe smiled, very proud of the audible results of his handiwork.

Ben looked horrified.

Joe winked. “Don’t worry-at this age, Nah.”  He switched gears.  “I’ll duck into the bathroom quickly and then go downstairs.”  

“Joe,”  Ben said.  “I can…”

“You don’t have to….I have last night as my go-to.” A vision of their prior evening’s passion that started in the shower and ended in bed flashed before Joe’s eyes. “I wanted to give you something special to remember me when you’re away.” Joe whispered.  

“You’re imprinted in me.  All of you.  I love you so mu…” Ben stopped, overcome with emotion.  He swallowed. “We better get moving. I’ll take a quick shower.”

Joe’s hand reached for Ben’s jaw and a kiss enveloped his beautiful full lips.

There wasn’t much talking over breakfast, each of them consumed by their own emotions.  Alex ran a small car back and forth on the table, the movement distracting and soothing him.  Ben kissed his head before he made a final trip upstairs to finish his ablutions and pack a few final things.  He returned with a backpack slung over his shoulder, maneuvering the heavy suitcase. “I better call the Uber,” he said, moving the luggage to join the full duffle bag, already by the door.  Joe wiped the counter with a sponge, yet again, trying to distract himself from his own emotional onslaught.

Ben went over to Alex and sat down.  “Hey, Buddy, come here.” he tapped his knee.  Alex came over and Ben picked him up under his arms. He brought him back against his chest and wrapped his arms around him.  “I have my blue pouch in my backpack, so I’ll always have it close by. You have yours on your bedside table, yeah?”  Alex nodded; his distress evident.  

“Good.  I’ll miss you and I’ll think of you every day.  We’ll FaceTime…”  Ben’s phone lit up.  The Uber was two minutes away.

Joe sidled behind Ben’s chair and rubbed his back as he stood up, easing Alex off his lap. They walked to the entry foyer and Joe took the suitcase down the stoop.  Ben grasped the backpack and duffle bag and Alex’s hand. The car pulled up just as they arrived on the sidewalk.  The driver loaded the luggage and opened the passenger door.  The three boys hugged.  

“Text me when you land,” Joe said.  

Ben nodded and then kneeled bringing Alex in for a final hug and “I love you.” Rising he brought Joe into a hug and kiss. They both uttered “I love you,” at the same time. They chuckled, and Ben peeled away.  He eased into the car and shut the door.  Joe and Alex waved to Ben who turned around and waved out the back window. 

Joe stood behind Alex and placed his arms on his shoulders. “C’mon, Babe. Let’s get ready for playgroup.  Now we’ll start counting the days until we see Dad again in London.”  Alex nodded.  He placed his hand on his chest, soothing the emotions that collected there, causing a metaphorical ache.  He didn’t need any words or pictures.  He now understood the meaning of ‘gone.’

[hms-chill]

Just a Dream

Summary: Henry wakes up to an empty bed, no sign of Alex, and a sinking knowledge that he's left for good.

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"Can you imagine if we were still dating? That would be wild, right?" Alex asks, grinning. Henry fakes a laugh as he feels the fissure in his heat grow into a canyon. He'd thought they were dating, but apparently they're not. Apparently they'd gone back to being friends, nothing more, and the massive hole in his heart is just something he'll have to live with. As he lets the darkness of his broken heart swallow him, he hears his grandmother's laugh echo in his ears.

He wakes up alone, his head pounding. This isn't right. Alex should be next to him; their breakup should have been a dream. But he's not there, and Henry's lying in the middle of the bed, David curled up happily where Alex should be. He looks toward what should be Alex's end table, and there's no phone, no glasses, no charger, not even the book he's working through. There's no sign of Alex anywhere.

A sinking feeling settles firmly into Henry's stomach. He knew it was too good to be true. He'd known it couldn't last, somehow; a person like him didn't get to be in love with someone like Alex. It just wouldn't work. His grandmother has been telling him that for ages; princes don't end up with first sons. It's impossible for more reasons than he can count, and they'd been stupid to even try to make things work in such an impossible world.

But no; it had worked. They'd built a life, and just because all signs of Alex seem to have disappeared from their bedroom doesn't mean he's gone. Henry fumbles for his phone, knocking a piece of paper that likely has a half-formed midnight revelation scribbled on it to the floor. He can't wait to read it later; last time it was "Horatio 'sweet' gay etymology". His phone reveals nothing but the fact that he's running late. With a pang, he realizes that he'd relied on Alex's alarm to wake him up, but Alex is gone now. He must be. Henry climbs out of bed in a rush, but as he does, his head spins and his stomach revolts. He barely makes it to the bathroom before he throws up, and he calls in sick from there, head resting on the cool porcelain of the toilet seat. He texts Bea their daily update from there, too; letting her know he loves her and that he's got the flu, but she shouldn't worry. She'll get it when she wakes up in a few hours. His phone buzzes after that, but he ignores it to get himself up and to the kitchen. He lets David outside and makes a cup of tea, trying not to be upset by the coffee maker that has clearly not been used this morning.

As the kettle heats, Henry tries to remember what happened between him and Alex. Something must have happened; he's clearly the only one still living in the house he'd picked for the two of them. But through the pounding in his head and the fog in his brain, he can't remember what. He just knows Alex should be here, and he's not. His favorite mug isn't out on the counter, and his contacts weren't in the bathroom, and his shoes aren't on the mat.

David is back at the door, so Henry lets him in, grabbing his tea and the emergency packet of Jaffa cakes he keeps in the cupboard. He knows he should sleep; he's decently sick and his sleep schedule has never been exactly steady. But he can't close his eyes without missing Alex. Alex's arms around him, Alex's breath on his neck, Alex's feet tangling with his under the blankets. He tries to read, but that causes the same difficulty. He can't stop expecting Alex's head on his shoulder, Alex's lips on his cheek, Alex's presence on the bed beside him, tapping his hand when he's found something interesting in his own book to share. Eventually, Henry gives up on it all and brings up Bake Off on his laptop, picking a different season from the one he's watching with Alex, and tries his best to disappear into biscuit land, David curled up beside him.

He sleeps intermittently, trying to doze between every episode and maybe getting in a solid few hours total. What he gets, though, is full of dreams of Alex. Alex packing his things and leaving. Alex calmly explaining that it isn't working. Alex leaving Henry alone with the queen, a defeated husk of himself finally ready to accept life in a tower.

Alex coming in quietly, carrying a bowl of soup and kissing Henry's forehead to wake him up.

"Hi, baby. Bea said you weren't feeling so great." Well. If this is a dream, it's one of the better ones. Alex looks like he's just gotten back from something fancy, and if Henry weren't so sick and this weren't a dream, he'd be ready to do absolutely filthy things to an Alex who looks this good.

As it is, all Henry can manage is a groan. Alex smiles, and Henry blesses his subconscious for holding onto that soft smile, the one that's so full of love Henry can barely stand it.

"Okay. I'm going to leave the soup here, and I'll be right back with a thermometer and meds, okay? I love you." He starts to go, but Henry grabs his hand. If Alex leaves, he'll wake up, and he doesn't want to go back to that world just yet. He wants to stay here, where everything is perfect.

"Don't go. I don't want this one to end."

"What do you mean, baby? I'll be right back."

"No; if... if you go, I'll wake up, and I don't want to. I know... I know I can't have this, not with who I am and have to be and all that, but I want to pretend. Just... just for a little bit longer, please? I don't want to be alone again."

"Hen, what are you talking about?"

"This is a dream, and real... real Alex is gone, and if you go then I have to wake up and go back to that, and I don't want to." He's started to cry, which is probably going to wake him up anyway, but Alex isn't leaving anymore. He's coming closer to sit on the bed and wrap Henry in his arms, holding him close as Henry finally lets the sobs start to tear him apart. "I just... I want to pretend... I want this to be real."

"Baby, this is real, I promise. Oh, Henry, baby, Love. Corazón. I would never leave you, I swear. I love you more than anything. Here; I'm... Henry, baby? Look at me?" Henry does, and he sees a few of his own tears reflected in Alex's eyes. Alex cups his face gently, wiping a few tears away with his thumb and looking at Henry with eyes so full of adoration and love that the tears threaten to come back immediately. "I'm going to pinch you, okay? If you can feel it and it hurts, you'll know this is real, and that I would never, ever leave you."

Henry nods, sniffling a bit. Alex pinches his arm, just enough to hurt, then presses a kiss to the same spot as Henry buries his face in his shoulder.

"It's okay, Sweetheart. It's okay. I'm here. I had meetings up in Albany starting early this morning, but I'm here now. I'm here. I love you; I'm sorry I ever had to leave."

"I... I had a dream we broke up, and then everything was gone..."

"But that's impossible. I kissed your forehead to chase out all the bad thoughts before I left."

Henry lets out a watery laugh, still trying to believe that all of this is real. Alex is here, holding him and promising over and over that he loves him. This is real, Alex says so. He got his fairy tale ending. When the tears fade, leaving him clinging to Alex like a tired koala, Henry says, "I'm sorry. I... after everything, it felt... I just... all of this, after my grandmother and Richards and everything? I still... it all just feels so impossible sometimes, still."

"I know, I know. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I had to go, and I'm sorry I didn't call over lunch or anything, and I just... I'm sorry. I should have done more than a note and a text, especially knowing you were sick. I didn't want to wake you, but I... I should have done more."

"A note?"

"I left it right next to your phone. Did you not see it?"

"I... I think it fell."

"Okay. Here's what we'll do, if it's okay with you. I'm going to pick up the note, and while you read it, I'm going to get some meds, a thermometer, and my dinner. Then I'll be back, and we can watch Bake Off and cuddle while we eat. Does that sound alright?"

"But you'll get sick."

"Nonsense. You're most contagious the day or two before the fever, so I'm already contaminated. Besides, you're always telling me to rest; if I get a fever I'll have to. Then you'll have to stay home and look after me, and I won't have to share you for a whole day."

Henry laughs again, and it sounds a bit more like it should. Alex kisses his forehead, bends to pick up the letter, then kisses his forehead again as he hands it over.

"I'll be back soon; no bad thoughts while I'm gone, okay?"

"Okay." One last forehead kiss and he's gone, but Henry can hear running footsteps in the hall outside. David hops off the bed, likely needing dinner and to be let out, but Henry doesn't mind. He turns to the letter in his hands, picturing Alex writing it early that morning, glasses on and hair barely tamed. It would have been still partly dark when he left, and Henry can picture him writing it in the half-light of an early morning through the window, just as the city started to come awake.

"Baby, Sorry I missed you this morning; I'm off early for meetings in Albany. You'd probably know what idiot made them the state capital instead of us, let's add them to our list of people to fight. I hate missing you wake up, but we both know you need your beauty sleep, so I'll have to imagine your bed head and morning breath and all the stunningly imperfect things about you that the world never gets to see. I'll pick up an early dinner on my way home, so no need to worry about that. I love you. I love your gorgeous sleeping face and your giant, beautiful heart, and I love that little smile you'll get reading this. I love how you love letters and all these sappy little things. I love you, Alex PS- I just kissed away the bad dreams, but your forehead felt hot. Please take the day off if you need to; you deserve to rest for a bit. I adore you."

He looks up from the letter to see Alex in the flesh, panting slightly but with a second bowl of soup, a cup of tea, some meds, and the thermometer. He comes to take Henry's temperature, frowning slightly before handing him a pill.

"Take this; it should help. But we should call off work tomorrow; you're not fever free yet, and you'll need someone to look after you."

"But you have the state senate meetings tomorrow, too, don't you?"

"Yeah, well, state senate can wait. They can send someone else; Albany blows anyway. Like ten of the top fifteen things to do are historic houses and buildings; it can wait until I can see it with you."

Henry smiles, swallowing the pill and starting on his soup while Alex emails his boss, then emails the shelter to let them know Henry won't be in tomorrow, either. When he's done, he gets them to Bake Off. David's arrived, curling up at their feet but clearly planning to move upward as soon as they'll let him.

"Thank you. You're... the best partner I can imagine. There's no one else I'd rather spend my life with, and I adore you, and I'm so thankful that I get to date and live with and love you. I'm sorry I don't tell you enough," Henry says softly, but Alex shakes his head.

"Nonsense. The not telling me enough bit, I mean, not the rest. Except the best partner bit, because you're the best partner I can imagine. I'm sorry I don't tell you enough how much I adore you, and how wonderful you are, and how amazed by you I am everyday. I could keep going, until you get sick of me and chase me out so you can sleep, but it looks like bread week, so. What do you say we disappear into bread land for an hour?"

Henry nods, resting his head on Alex's shoulder as Mel and Sue bring them into bread week. Alex is there; he's real. His shoulder is solid, moving slightly as he eats his soup and encourages Henry to do the same. He's there, real as anything, his arm pressed against Henry's and David curled up on their tangled legs.

On AO3

Notes:

Remember that funny thing where Alex slipped and hit his head and forgot they were dating? Inspired by a prompt from @stardustbooknerd? This is the angsty companion piece for that. I'd say I'm sorry, but that would be a lie. But hey. All’s well that ends in fluff, right? 

-

On an unrelated note, the etymology of "sweet" in 'Hamlet' is that it was very gay, but Horatio only uses it after Hamlet's dead ("goodnight, sweet prince"). So he only tells Hamlet he loves him after Hamlet is dead. Which is fine and not heartbreaking in the least.