#everyone is getting so much done so fast and I STILL can’t submit the second thing I did. I’m going to lose my head or cry or both or die or

[peapod20001]

Did sleeping help

No </3

[thefanficmonster]

Unlucky

Part 2: ‘Lucky Me’

Corpse Husband x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Corpse decides to email back a person who has sent him quite a few creepy stories. She never seems to run out of scary encounters of both sorts: paranormal and stranger-danger. He gets suspicious that the stories are all made up so she can grab his attention, but he’s in for a surprise.

U/N - username

Requested: No

Corpse’s POV

I’m looking through my most recent emails from fans. They are all of scary encounters they’ve allegedly experienced. By now, I’ve read so many, it’s easy to decipher which are real and which are just made up nonsense. Some, I must admit, give me chills. Big props to the people who write those, especially if they are made up. If you can make someone’s skin crawl with your twisted, frightening imagination, you have one, for lack of a better term and in the most positive way, fucked up mind.

My cursor lands on the familiar username I see almost every other week. U/N. They have been sending stories consistently for about three years now. They, and I’m saying they cause you can never be sure who’s hiding behind the username, are either the most unlucky person to walk the planet or the one with most twisted imagination and story telling skills. I’ll admit, sometimes I narrate a story just because it’s well written. Believability is not the only thing I go by, I also reward creativity. And this person, U/N, has had their spot in many of my videos in the last three years. I’m honestly hoping they are made up, or at least some of them, because not only are there too many of them, but none of them fail to give me that eerie paranoia after I read them or the chills while I read them.

Once again, they have submitted a downright terrifying story. It would be a shame if I didn’t narrate it.

It would be a shame if I....

If I never actually meet them.

This many run-ins with people with malicious intent, always getting away by some miracle, what if they one day don’t make it out alive to tell it.

My heart sinks a little at the thought. I feel like I know this person, like we’ve known each other for three years now. They know the things the whole internet knows about me, and I, along with my regular watchers, know their stories. That’s by no means enough, now that I think about it.

My next action is really out of character for me. I decide to reach out to them. My fingers fly over the buttons on my keyboard too fast for my rational side to try and stop them. Deep down, I know I’m doing the rightest wrong thing I’ve ever done. My previously sunk heart is now in its assigned spot again, beating quickly.

You don’t know what you’re doing

I maybe don’t, but knowing isn’t what’s important right now. I just wanna do it.

~ Hey, this is probably, what, your twentieth story so far. I’m just curious, how many of these are made up? By the way, your stories are amazing and I’ll probably keep narrating them even if they aren’t real. They’re just that good.

I send the email before I can talk myself out of it. I get up from my chair immediately afterwards, putting as much distance between me and the computer as possible, silently promising myself I won’t be checking my mail every five minutes.

Y/N’s POV

I anxiously refresh and refresh my email inbox, waiting for the dreaded email back from my professor. Being halfway through the college experience, I know how tough this professor’s class is and how much I suck at it. I sent him my completed assignment last night, barely making the deadline mind you, so now I’m sweating hardcore, staring my computer screen down.

After refreshing for the millionth time, I’m met with a new email which makes my heart stop for a second or two, my stomach dropping. Then I take the time to read the sender’s name, the subject and the first sentence of the email, and all the previous changes in me reverse. My heartbeat picks up speed, going faster than a galloping horse and my stomach turns, making me feel the sensation everyone calls ‘butterflies’.

Nah, man. This shit ain’t real. It can’t be.

But then again, what if it is. What if I’m about to full-on ignore my favorite youtuber because of my paranoia. Well, it’s not exactly unsupported. My life has been a shit show of unfortunate event and situations I’ve literally had to claw my way out of in order to stay alive. Now, when something of the sort happens, it’s just another weekday. However, I still wanna share these encounters. Not only because they are proof of the dangers girls have to deal with on a daily basis, but they also get narrated by one of my favorite people ever. What more can a girl ask for?

~ Listen, I’m really not looking forward to getting catfished. Please leave me alone

It’s short, not sweet, and to the point. It’s easy to understand, and it clearly states that I’m not falling for it if it’s a scam, but if it’s real....someone call 911 cause I think I’ll faint.

~ I get it, you have trust issues. But that’s understandable. From the creepy guy messaging you on all your social media. To the stalker you had from you high school, or even that teacher that turned out to not be a teacher at all and just a pedo, I see where the lack of trust is coming from. But I assure you, they only thing I wanna do is chat.

The shock and happiness overwhelm me when the reply arrives not even ten minutes later. 

Holy shit, this is him.

I start typing and then erase the typed half-sentence at least three times before receiving another email from him. From Corpse Husband. Corpse freaking Husband. How the fuck am I supposed to compose myself enough to reply to him, let alone sound cool and leave a good impression.

My hand shakes as I click the newly received email.

~ You probably don’t know what to say. Either that or you just don’t wanna talk to me. If you’re just baffled and surprised, reply with your name. If you want me to fuck off, ignore this email completely.

The smile I didn’t realize was there grows into a grin as small bursts of laughter escape me. Laughter caused by disbelief and shock. The type of laugh you let out when you score a good mark on the test you thought you completely fucked up.

~ Y/N. My name’s Y/N. 

PS: The stories are all 100% real. All happened. In the order I sent them too. And before you ask, I guess I’m just unlucky, but you are proving me wrong right now.

I don’t know where that confidence at the end came from, but I don’t care really. All that matters is that this might just actually be happening and it might be the best thing to ever happen to me.

~ Man, you’ve had it rough. Tell me, is there an easier way to access you than email. Like Insta DMs? I feel we have a lot to talk about and email is not the most convenient.

At this point, it feel so much like a fever dream that I decide to treat it as though it is. I just go with the flow.

~ Yeah, but first.....am I really not being catfished right now?

The email I receive as a reply to this message is empty of text but there’s a file attached. Not gonna lie, I am a bit hesitant to open it, but I decide that if this turns bad, I’ll just have to deal with it. In the meantime, I’ll believe it’s not a scam.

It’s an audio file: “No, Y/N, you are not being catfished.”

That voice. That god damn voice. It could convince me of anything. 

And now it’s convinced me into believing him. And finally letting out that squeal I was holding back before sending him my Instagram username.

[marlena-immortale]

NSFW Alphabet (Thomas)

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

A puddle. Thomas would be a puddle after sex. All fucked out and not able to form a complete sentence. He’d just wanna cuddle up to you and stay in your arms forever. You’d have to reassure him that you'll be right back when you go get a cloth to clean him up. And he’d be on top of you, so fucking clingy, the rest of the night. 

b = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part of his own body is his hands. He is so proud to be able to make you feel good with his long slender fingers. And he knows you have a thing for them so he makes sure to play with them and move them around when he catches you staring. You can’t blame him either because they are just so beautiful and you want them all over you all the time. His favorite body part of yours is your hips. His favorite thing is to grip on to them while you bounce up and down on his cock. Not guiding you or moving you, just letting you fuck yourself on him while using his hands on your hips as his only tether to reality while you fuck his brains out. 

c = cum (anything to do with cum basically… i’m a disgusting person)

He would spill sooo much cum when you finally let him let go of all his pent up release. There would be thick white ropes dripping all over his chest and stomach after you jerk him off. 

d = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This boy’s got plenty of dirty secrets, that he’s a little bit ashamed of, that he’ll slowly reveal, knowing that you’d never judge him for anything he’s into or wants to try. One thing that took him a while to let himself indulge in with you is his desire to be totally at your mercy and completely submit to you. He wants to be tied up, blindfolded, and told he’s your pretty little bitch. But once he does tell you, it’s become his second nature to get on his knees and bow his head everytime you give him a certain look. 

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He doesn’t have very much experience but don't worry, he gets off on you teaching him. You’d have to show how to properly make someone feel good and guide his tentative hands where you want them and tell him exactly what you want him to do and call him a good boy when he does it right. 

f = favourite position (this goes without saying.)

He loves it when you’re on top riding him, setting the pace and pinning him down to the bed. He likes to feel your weight on top of him, grounding him. Or, if he’s the one getting fucked, he likes you pounding into you in missionary so he can stare at your pretty face while he lays back and takes all the pleasure you’re willing to give him. 

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Most of the time, he’s too far gone to be cheeky but when you’re just getting started teasing or if you both are wanting something more vanilla for the night, he can be very cute and goofy, always messing around and making little jokes every once in a while. 

h = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s got cute little blond curls all over that you just can’t help but run your fingers through any chance you get. 

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Thomas is very intimate but still very submissive. He loves to have you closely pressed against him at all times to feel your love for him in your breaths against his skin and little kisses left on his face and neck and warm skin pressed against him. 

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He is constantly jacking off whenever he gets any alone time. Unless of course you punish him by not letting him touch himself because he's a good boy and he knows how to follow your commands even when he doesn’t want to. He knows that his domme knows best. 

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

Obviously he loves your d/s dynamic as well as bondage and pegging. But, something else he really enjoys is a little bit of pain. And not just as punishment, he likes the pain especially during sex. It drives him wild when you bite down hard on his neck or thighs, sometimes even drawing a little blood, or when you scratch your nails hard down his back, or when you fuck into him just a little too hard to overwhelm him a bit. 

l = location (favourite places to do the do)

He’d be down to fuck just about anywhere and any time you want. He loves to be pushed into the nearest lockable room. Or, maybe even a little mild public play with you softly running your fingertips along the exposed skin of his thighs or his chest or his palm and sensitive inner wrist. Or with you planting wet kisses on his neck while he shudders in your embrace, secretly hoping someone sees. 

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally anything you do. Seeing you lick a drop of ice cream that fell onto your hand; he’s instantly hard. You bend over to pick something up and a little more of your skin is showing

or reach up and your shirt rides up; he’s instantly hard. You innocently brush past him while walking, he’s instantly hard. This boy is obsessed with you and his body definitely makes that clear for you even if he tries to hide it. 

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t like to take charge but you don’t seem to have a problem with that. You love to have him under your control. 

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Always such a good boy, he’ll stay down there for as long as you like him to. And, he absolutely thrives off of being crushed between your thighs and you sitting on his face, grinding yourself on his pretty mouth and nose and using him just to reach your own orgasm. 

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fuck him hard and fast till his mind is turned to mush and he’ll be happy. In those rare times when he’s on top, bouncing up and down on your strap, he’ll be completely pliable in your hands guiding his hips on top of yours while his head rests on your chest letting out moans and whimpers and incoherent words that sound vaguely like your name.  

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Again, he’d be down ot fuck anywhere and any time and you know exactly how to make him cum so quickly. He’d be so blushy and subby afterwards too, all flustered and warm when someone tries to talk to him. He’d need you by his side the rest of the outing, clinging onto you all smiley and happy while everyone else gives you knowing looks. 

r = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s definitely game to experiment whenever you want to try something new and puts all his trust in you no matter what. Not to mention, Thomas is such an exhibitionist and doing things in public is his favorite risk to take. 

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Poor baby can never last very long when he has a pretty woman touching him. He’ll be ready to burst so quickly once you get your hands on him. 

t = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His favorite toy is of course your strap and the many ...ahem… attachments you have just for him. You prefer the big pink one that takes plenty of prep to fit inside him. He also loves your more painful toys too, as much as he begs and pleads for you to stop, he knows he has a safeword to use if he ever wants to and he secretly loves the punishment anyway. 

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

He would never last if he tried to tease you. You, on the other hand, love to tease him. Seeing him get all desperate and whiny is absolute heaven. You’d give him soft little touches and kisses all over his body except where he wants them most. He’d be so desperate you’d have to pin his hands down so he doesn’t touch himself in the meantime. 

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Thomas is so fucking loud. Such a whiny little bitch. You’d have to make sure to stuff or cover his mouth when you’re in a place where you could get caught. When you’re in private though, he would nuzzle his face in your neck and his little whimpers would reverberate through you. 

w = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Thomas loves when you check in on him during a scene. He knows it’s just to make sure he’s still ok, but it just feels so intimate and sweet to him. You always take a second and lean down to brush the hair out of his face and wipe his stray tears away and place little kisses on his cheeks and nose and ask how he’s feeling or if he wants to continue. It always brings a smile to his face, even in the middle of a punishment. 

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

His cock is quite large. Very long but not super thick. It would feel so good inside you and would look so pretty all red and leaky, dripping all over his stomach. It would get all twitchy at the slightest touch or the feel of your breath over it. 

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is so high. This boy’s gotta get off every day, sometimes multiple times a day. Whenever you’re not fucking him, he’s getting himself off. He’s ready to go at just about any moment. 

z = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Aw, poor boy is so tired afterwards. After his last orgasm of the night, he’s already half asleep and by the time you’re done cleaning him up, he’s snoring sweetly in your arms.

[vodkassassin]

Shen Qingqiu decides enough is enough! As is his right

If you see any typos in this, no you don’t 😌

—

The door flies open right on the midday hour mark, when the candle that he lit this morning is exactly half gone, and Shang Qinghua immediately dives underneath his desk and throws his arms over his hand.

“I’m almost done!” He calls out desperately. “Just give me a few more hours, I promise I’m almost done!”

Following this, a silence in his office, long and inspecting, takes place. Shang Qinghua, despite all his instincts screaming otherwise, peeks his head up over the edge of his desk and gulps. The person standing in his door, who is surveying his admittedly very messy office (it’s not his fault! Paperwork breeds like multiplying cells! Why doesn’t anyone understand that?!), and looking very, very unamused.

“Ha, um,” he scrambles back to sit on the chair again, trying to get his thundering heart under control. “H-Hello, Shen-shixiong! This — I — I wasn’t expecting….”

Shen Qingqiu finishes his examination of his workspace and locks his gaze upon Shang Qinghua. He steps smoothly into the office, and shuts the door behind him with sure but quiet movements. A cold sweat breaks out down Shang Qinghua’s spine.

He swallows. He reaches forward and grabs up the paperwork he’d been pouring over before this interruption and holds it feebly before himself like a shield.

“A-Acruelly, shixiong…. If shixiong has something he wants from this shidi, I-I’m afraid it will have to wait. Wei-shixiong demanded these requisition forms be looked over and approved before tomorrow a-and there… there are a lot of them to go through…. I think he waited until the last minute — Oh! And Liu-shidi, he — um, he sent in his audit reports late again, so I have to go through those too and I’m really really sorry but whatever you have for me I can’t —!”

“Stop your babbling.” Shen Qingqiu snaps. Shang Qinghua’s jaw clicks shut so fast his teeth hurt a little. Ow.

He watches with wide eyes as his shixiong — who is now scowling heavily, nooo — begins to flip through the various stacks of parchment and scrolls that sit heavy upon Shang Qinghua’s desk. Too terrified to tell him that, actually, only the sect leader should be looking through those ones, Shang Qinghua remains quiet.

Really, nobody tells Shen Qingqiu what he can or can’t do. Those who have tried before are —

Well. They’ve all seen their sect leader.

“These.” Shen Qingqiu slips a smaller stack of documents out from the middle of one of the piles and holds it up. “The supply logs from the previous joint peak night hunting expedition. They have yet to be filed?”

“Shixiong,” Shang Qinghua’s eyes water in frustration, and he holds up his sleeve to cover them. “I meant to, I did! But — but when I was going to get to them, Qi-shimei came in with a cart full of delegated peak maintenance reports! She said if they weren’t done before noon she’d — Ah.” He shudders, peeks over his arm, and goes pale at the way Shen Qingqiu’s eyes have narrowed viciously. He hurries on, voice growing smaller. “I’d just finished them when Wei-shixiong brought me his backlog requisitions….”

He trails off, because the expression on his shixiong face has gone colder and colder the longer he spoke.

“Why haven’t you chosen to delegate?” The man demands from between his locked teeth. “All these disciples that you have, and you’re telling me you can’t delegate a single task to them?”

“Shixiong,” Shang Qinghua’s eyes water again and he shiffles pathetically into his sleeve. “Shixiong, I do delegate. This stuff in my office here, this is all the work only peak lords have the security clearance for. Everything else I delegate to my disciples, because I can’t… I can’t….”

Shen Qingqiu stares down his nose at him, and Shang Qinghua stops talking. He drops his gaze and listens as the man silently turns on his heel and stalks out of his office, closing the door with a solid thump.

He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and drops his arm defeatedly into his lap, frowning down at the water stains his stupid tears have left in the fabric. Silk is so fucking dumb, you can’t walk through without it picking up dirt somehow. It’s why he changed his peak robes to darker colors, because at least black doesn’t show where you’ve been all day.

And seriously, it’s just so much easier to scrub blood out of clothes that aren’t white or beige or pastel.

He shoves his paperwork to the side and folds his arms before him, letting his head thunk down on them with an exhausted sigh. The door opens slightly again and a head peaks in.

“Shizun?”

“A-Kao,” he mumbles into his arms. “I’m gonna die.”

His head disciple gives a polite sound of acknowledgement. “I’ll have someone prepare some of the spiced tea imported from that Eastern desert oasis, then.”

“I love you,” Shang Qinghua says fervently, and listens as his favorite disciple huffs a quiet laugh.

“Will return shortly.”

The door closes again, and with it, Shang Qinghua closes his eyes.

Jin Kao is true to his word, as always, and in fact brings a light snack of fruit and a pastry along with the tea. Shang Qinghua plows through it at record pace and is energized! He’s halfway through the requisition forms for Wei Qingwei when his door is slammed open once again.

He flinches. Taking a fortifying breath, Shang Qinghua glances up and immediately loses all color.

“Shen-shixiong is back!” He shakes, voice wobbling. “With — with Z-Zhangmen-shixiong, ah…!”

Shen Qingqiu stalks into the room, side stepping Jin Kao whose arms are laden with the empty tea set. The head disciple wisely flees into the corner, watching with a narrow gaze as the Qing Jing peak lord all but drags their venerated Sect Leader across the office to stand before Shang Qinghua’s desk.

Shang Qinghua trembles as they both loom over him. What did he do?! Shixiong, what he’s said before was completely reasonable! There was no need to go and fetch your overbearing ge!

Shen Qingqiu points a finger at Shang Qingh— oh wait, not him. At his desk. At the mountains of papers littering his desk.

“If you have time to relax and drink tea in your spotless office,” the second in command sneers at his superior, “then you have time to pick up the slack so that our shidi can do the same!”

Shang Qinghua gapes. He stares up at them with round, round eyes, uncertain as to what’s going on.

Yue Qingyuan, for his part, quails under Shen Qingqiu’s steely and unrelenting gaze. His shoulders are tense, and the way in which he looks around Shang Qinghua’s office with a startled look, only to then turn it upon Shang Qinghua himself, just screams ‘bro, you live like this?’

Not by choice! Shang Qinghua never asked for this, Yue-shixiong! The paperwork just never stops!

Shen Qingqiu pivots sharply, glaring down at him instead. Ah!

“What are you doing?” The man says. “Get up.”

“Ah?” Completely bewildered, Shang Qinghua only stares up at the man in confusion.

“Honestly.” Shen Qingqiu sighs under his breath — a sharp and stilted sound of frustration.

He rounds the desk himself and grabs Shang Qinghua by the upper arm, hauling him up from his chair and dragging him away from the desk.

“Th-This—?!”

“Sect Leader,” Shen Qingqiu nods at the desk. Yue Qingyuan only stares blankly at him, and so he sneers. “These forms must be finished. And the next stack. All by a peak lord — I’m taking Shang-shidi for a well deserved break, so I can’t do it, and Wei-shidi was the one to submit them in the first place. Of the four foremost peak lords of the sect, only you have time and clearance to do it.”

Shang Qinghua sways, shocked. If Shen Qingqiu didn’t still have such a bone-crushing grip on him, he might have even fallen. The other man steadies him immediately, and the sour look on his face sours even further.

Yue Qingyuan’s face is pale. “Qingqiu-shidi….”

“It isn’t as if you were busy with anything else.” Shen Qingqiu plows on past whatever refuting the sect leader was trying to pull. He shakes Shang Qinghua roughly by the arm, and Shang Qinghua rapidly blinks away the spots from his vision. “Look at our shidi, he’s nearly dead on his feet. Are you telling me that you would make him work more, when it’s already clear that he’s overworked?”

Yue Qingyuan pauses. He glances around the office another time, shoulders lowering in slow increments. His resolve is crumbling visibly to everyone in the office.

Shang Qinghua silently mouths ‘overworked’ to himself, stunned.

Finally, the sect leader sighs. “No, Qingqiu-shidi is right.”

Shen Qingqiu snorts. As if to say ‘of course I am.’

Yue Qingyuan steps around the desk and slowly takes the seat that Shang Qinghua had just been forcably vacated from. He eyes the stack of paperwork that are piled high, not just on the desk but on the floor and the shelves surrounding the desk, and an expression of regret eclipses his face.

“This shixiong had not realized Shang-shidi’s workload was quite so…” he trails off, trying to fish for the right word, and finally lands on, “heavy.”

“It’s the Sect Leader’s duty to ascertain that all those under his sect’s banner are taken care of. Those directly under his command even more so.” Shen Qingqiu sniffs disdainfully. “You have no excuse.”

Yue Shixiong bows his head. “No, this one does not.”

“I’m taking Shang Qinghua to Qing Jing to recuperate.”

“Yes.”

Shang Qinghua pales even further. He ducks his head down and glances over to the corner into which his head disciple had squirreled himself away for help.

Jin Kao stares back, an expression of smug victory on his face, and doesn’t say a single word.

This traitor! Unfilial disciple! Shang Qinghua takes back what he said about Jin Kao being his favorite. He’s replacing that brat as soon as he’s able to escape Shen Qingqiu’s clutches.

Shen Qingqiu yanks on his arms, dragging him out of the office. He cranes his neck around, and the last scene he sees before the door slams shut is Jin Kao setting down the empty tea set, picking up a large stack of papers from one of the various spots on the floor, which he then ferries over to the desk at which Yue Qingyuan has picked up the half-finished requisition, looking it over with a frown.

Huh. He’s never seen his head disciple look quite so intimidating before. The boy is practically looming over their sect leader with a dark expression.

That’s a little strange.

He doesn’t see beyond that, though, because Shen Qingqiu slams the doors shut again and drags him off his own damn peak.

—

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/32312410

[concentrateandpush]

How about going in labor in a very inconvenient situation let's say in traffic, an event you've been preparing for and cant miss, stuck in an important exam, etc.? And the baby is big, and somehow progressing down fast~

Hmm the traffic one sounds good.

I’d been working overtime to try and get some extra money in. Since Finn left, I’ve been trying to get as much money behind me before I go on maternity leave. I’ve decided to work right up until forty weeks, I can’t legally work after that anyway. So it’s rush hour, I need to pee so bad and I’m stuck in traffic, in the boiling hot summer heat. All of a sudden, a motorcycle decides to zoom between the cars right past mine and I jump out of my skin, immediately gripping my underbelly and noticing a puddle underneath me “fucks sake..” I mutter as I grab some tissues to try and wipe it up. Something just feels off and I start to feel a cramping sensation in my lower abdomen, my hand presses on my lower stomach and it intensifies “shit” I whisper to myself “oh baby.. not now” I shake my head before letting out a small groan, taking some deep breaths through the contraction. Once it’s over I call my Mom, who doesn’t answer, my Dad, who doesn’t answer and then the last choice, Finn.

“Lena, what?” He snaps and I let out a small whimper “can you come and help me? Please?” I ask. “What do you mean?” He asks and I find myself unbuckling my belt and pushing the seat back. “I’m stuck on the motorway, my waters have just broken, please, I need help” I cry. “I.. I thought I told you we were through” he snaps and I groan out a roar of frustration as I hang up. “Just you and me baby” I whisper before another contraction takes over, I knew I’d been having them all day but I needed the money. “You’re not holding up are you monkey” I laugh a little as I roll the seat back and slip my sandals off. I didn’t want this to happen here, I really didn’t but I couldn’t speed up traffic.

The next hour or so goes by and I’m still stuck in a stuffy car, in this puddle of my broken waters, moving maybe one or two cars lengths at a time and that’s when I feel a shift. I’m really going to push my baby out in the car, in traffic. “Okay, okay, okay baby” I whisper before slipping my underwear off. The intense pressure was growing by the second and I look at both cars on my side, one, a car of teen stoners, the other, a truck with an older chubby guy driving it. I spread my legs, laying one foot on one side of the dashboard, one on the other side.

I slip a finger between my legs to see how it felt and I turn the mirror to face myself, just to track progress. My eyes widen as I feel the top of baby’s head trying to push through my cervix. That’s when my phone starts to ring, it’s my Mom. I reach over to press the button and her voice lights the car up “Lena Sweetheart, You okay?” She asks and I shake my head even though she can’t see. “I’m in labor” I pant as I try to stretch myself like I’ve seen in the YouTube videos:. “You’re sure? Where are you? Are you alone? How far apart are they?” She questions

Usually I’d laugh at her curiosity but I’m so close to a contraction and I’m saving all my energy to push. But before I can even answer, I let out a loud, earthy roar “nnnngaaaahhh!” I cry, breathlessly searching for words once I stop. “Okay, okay you’re pushing, Lena, tell me where you are” she demands. “T-traffic” is all I can muster. “Okay, Lena listen to me, make it easier on your self and squat the best you can, get in the back if you have to” she tells me and I look around “I can’t move” I shake my head and she assures me “I know it feels like that, but as long as baby’s head is still up inside you, yes you can” she says calmly.

I don’t know how I do it, but I look around and pull myself into the back of my car, using the two headrests to hold onto. I’m sweating, I’m hot, I’m exhausted, I’m so exhausted. “Mom, mom help Me” I beg. “I will, just, let me help you yeah, I need you to check yourself, make sure its safe for you to push” she says calmly and I nod, feeling around “I’m ready, baby is low, I’m ready” I assure her. “Okay, squatting will do some of the work for you, just stay where you are and when a contraction comes, dig deep and let it out” she says softly.

Everyone is going past at this point, glaring in, some people even pointing as I scream my way through trying to birth my baby. An hour of pushing goes by and I can tell my mom is getting stressed at this point, not even a head, nothing. “Okay, Lena, you need someone else to help you, get out of the car or flag someone down” she demands and I cry, wiping my tears and rubbing my eyes “I can’t”. “Yes you can, of course you can, just wave for help” she says softly. I listen, she’s my mom, of course I listen. I wave my hand out of the car door, just trying to get some help. My knees and back are so sore from squatting. “Please?!” I cry out in pain.

Until someone stops, a Middle Aged man in a small RV. “Oh my..” he mutters “okay, let’s get you on the bed” he says as he opens his van and scoops me up in his arms. Once I get in there, his whole family are sat around, his wife, two teens a kid and a baby. It settles me because they’ve clearly done this before. “Okay, honey, you take one leg and you take the other” the Mom demands of the twins. I just submit to it all, letting them pull my legs apart on this tiny bed. “Okay, this is a big head” the mom laughs as she kneels down and I feel the Dad hold me up from behind. I feel a contraction coming and I take a deep breath, pushing as hard as I can, gritting my teeth and my face turning red. “Good, good job, keep it coming momma” she says calmly as I feel her fingers stretch me out “pull, kids” she tells them as they tug my legs

“Mmm please I can’t take it, I can’t take it anymore!” I cry as I feel my body split in two. “I know but it’ll all be over soon, it will be so worth it I promise” she assures me and I nod, pressing my chin to my chest and bearing down hard. “Okay, okay, that’s it” she nods and then looks to her partner “up, she needs to be upright” she says softly and I feel him pull me up into a squatting position but the two boys, I can only guess around 18 or 19 are terrified, they keep my legs wide open, I barley have control of my body at this point as these three strange men hold me open.

All of a sudden I feel a shift inside me and it hurts, so freaking bad. “What happened?” I panic and the mom nods “baby’s ready for you” she smiles. I don’t take a second before I grit my teeth and push with all of my might, wriggling as the family hold my whole body, the poor fourteen year old girl just watches. “Oh, oh that’s it! That’s it!” The mom smiles massively as I feel myself stretch and a gush of fluids pour out of me. I reach down and cup the head immediately “no cord?” I check and she reassures me it’s okay.

“Last push now okay? Boys, really pull her legs open for me” she tells them and they nod, the guy to my right takes his hand and moves some hair from my face for me and tucks it behind my ear. “I’m Erik” he smiles and I nod “Lena” I whisper breathlessly. I take a small moment before they pull my legs and I scream, I howl and I groan trying to get the shoulders out and I just can’t. “Get her on her hands and knees” she demands and I’m there in a second. Erik comes to my face side and holds me “you’re doing so well” he whispers and I just wrap my arms around his neck before pushing, feeling like I’m tearing as I cry louder than I ever have into his neck “nnhaaaahhhhhhhhh!” I pour until I feel the baby slide out into her arms.

I frantically throw myself back and lift my leg up to take baby onto my chest, laying back and holding them as they cry the sweetest cry ever. “It’s a girl” she smiles and I laugh a little “Hi mommy’s girl” I whisper before kissing her head. “Thank you so much..” I sigh breathlessly and Erik looks to me “let’s get you checked out and seen to” he smiles. I nod and rub baby’s back as someone lifts my dress over my head so I can feed her. “So.. is there a Mr Lena?” Erik smiles with a twinkle in his eye

[hamsterboos]

here’s a fact. hating someone is exhausting.

Again, another one I speed wrote between finishing up homework and playing genshin lmao I really need to work on that but oh well. Seeing the prompt immediately reminded me of The Hating Game and this is kind of based on that, so do with that information what you will :D Title is also a quote from the book!

Word Count: 1495 Read on AO3 Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Day 18 of Rowaelin Month Prompt: You're my work rival and we're stuck in an elevator

~~~~~~

It was a race, and they were tied for first place.

Then again, it’s not like there were any other competitors except for the two of them.

Aelin glanced at the clock and silently cursed, realizing that there wasn't much time left until the working day was done, and she desperately needed to finish this data analysis report for her boss to be able to look over the first thing Monday morning. The only caveat to this was that Rowan Whitethorn was also there until the last possible minute finishing his analysis report on a different department’s data collection.

If he wasn’t sitting directly across from her and constantly in her direct line of sight, it wouldn’t have been such a problem, but when she looked up to see his annoyingly handsome face with his gorgeous eyes and infuriatingly beautiful tattoo creeping out of his shirt’s collar, Aelin was just pissed off that he was such a dick.

Ever since Rowan had joined the company, his insane work ethic (that rivaled hers, honestly) and the fact that he had immediately begun to compete with her for the same manager promotion had Aelin understandably frustrated, and it seems that Rowan was frustrated as well. However, Aelin was nothing but professional, so she never acted on her annoyance with him until the small passive-aggressive and sarcastic comments shared between them turned the silent feud not-so-silent, or secret. Soon enough, the entire office was aware of the fact that Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn hated each other and could not work together.

Of course, that just forced their boss to work together more often than not on data analysis projects, but they got their shit down. Somehow.

And now here they were, both working till the last possible second of the working day to show off their dedication to their jobs in order to somehow get the upper hand compared to the other. Everyone else had slowly begun to leave already, the office emptying out early especially with it being a Friday afternoon (even their boss had left), but this was an important report. With being promoted to a manager role, that would mean that they were the other’s boss, and Aelin wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle Rowan as her boss. He would definitely somehow make her working life hell, and she liked her job; she enjoyed working with the numbers and making graphs and analyzing these numbers.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, and with every glance at the clock and at Rowan, her fingers worked faster, slowly beginning to cramp as she desperately tried to get that last sentence in so she could proofread it over quickly.

“How are you still writing, Galanthynius?” she heard Rowan taunt, and she rolled her eyes as she finished typing out her last thought. “You seem to be losing your touch.”

“Screw off, Whitethorn,” she growled, hitting enter and then saving the document — four times but who’s counting — before turning to look at his smug face. “Maybe you finished earlier because you didn’t have nearly as much detail as I do. It’s always quality over how fast something can get done, anyway.”

“Hmm, that wouldn’t make a difference if Maeve can’t look at the document bright and early on Monday, now would it?”

“Who said anything about her not having it done by Monday morning?” she asked, her eyes scanning the document over for any typos and coherency issues.

“Such arrogance.”

“It’s called confidence, Rowan. Maybe you’d attract more girls if you had any of that,” she replied sweetly. It was a blatant lie, though. He had enough confidence in himself that she was attracted to him. Not that she’d ever, ever, make that obvious to him.

“Not like you go out on many dates, either.” Aelin saved the file yet again after another read through, and she sent it to the printer, and she stood up, moving to the printer. Rowan followed her.

“How do you know I don’t have one tonight?”

“I think you’d be bragging about it much more if you did.”

Aelin leaned against the printer as it worked, and she ran her eyes over him. It was unfair how hot he looked in a white button-up collared shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, and gray slacks, but it wasn’t like she was unaware that she looked hot today as well. It was a navy long sleeved dress with a gold belt cinching around her waist and a v-neck that went deep enough to barely be considered professional.

“I don’t need to brag about my dates,” she said, turning to pick up her papers and stapling them. “I think my clothes are enough.”

Aelin saw his eyes roam over her, lingering on the v-neck, before snapping back to her face. “I suppose so. I’ve seen you look like a nun, so this is definitely something special.”

“Aw,” she cooed. “You like it. Now, if you’d kindly get out of my way, I have something to submit before I leave.”

She walked away from him and set the report on Maeve’s desk before picking up all of her belongings and packing it away and moving to leave the office. Waiting for the elevator took a bit, and by that time Rowan had joined her, silently standing next to her. The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, and they both got on, still in utter silence until there was a loud clanging sound as the elevator jerked. Aelin lost her balance as she let out a cry of surprise, tumbling into Rowan’s side. He grabbed onto her waist to steady her with one hand braced on the side of the elevator, and the lights within had turned off before turning to a soft blinking red.

“What’s going on?” she asked, pushing herself away from him. Rowan moved to press a button on the elevator before they both realized that the building had lost power, effectively trapping them in the elevator.

“Shit,” he cursed, “we’re stuck.”

Aelin pressed the emergency speaking button, “Hello? Is anyone there? We’re stuck in the elevator.”

The speaker crackled to life immediately afterwards, with someone asking if they were okay and how many people were in the elevator before saying that the firefighters were on their way, but it would take at least half an hour.

“Well this is fantastic,” Aelin sighed, leaning against the wall.

“Too bad you’re missing out on your date,” Rowan said.

“Yeah, well at least you get to grace yourself in my presence for a bit longer.”

“As if I need more of you in my life.”

Aelin scoffed. “People could always use more of me in their lives. You wouldn’t be having nearly as much fun at work without me.”

“WIthout you? You can’t deal with half the tech problems we get if it weren’t for me. How did you make do without me?”

“Perfectly fine, Rowan, trust me.” In their heated conversation, she hadn’t realized when she’d moved away from the wall and instead was so close to Rowan that she could feel his body heat. His hand snaked around her waist and pulled him snug against her body, and her hands landed on his firm chest.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered.

Aelin smiled, “I don’t care.”

She wasn’t sure if she had moved first or he had, but the next thing she knew, her arms were around his neck and both his hands were on her waist as their lips moved in tandem.

He was intoxicating as his lips devoured hers, and her brain spun as her body heated up in his hold.

Holy shit, Rowan was an amazing kisser.

She leaned up on her toes to get better access to his lips, and he leaned down even further. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. Who needed air when he was kissing her like that? It wasn’t possible for her to want to keep doing this with a man she hated, but her body didn’t care about that. Her body wanted Rowan’s hands all over her. Her body wanted him to slam her against the wall, hard enough that all she could feel was his body against hers.

Fortunately (or unfortunately?), her brain restarted, and Aelin pushed away from him, her chest heaving as she took gulps of air.

As the two looked at each other in silence, there wasn’t anything for them to say. She knew Rowan felt the same as she did. This was a mistake. An insanely amazing mistake, but a mistake regardless.

“This was a one time thing,” she breathed, and he nodded, his eyes still burning into her.

Thankfully, the elevator jerked slightly yet again as the speaker turned on again. “Good news, the power’s back, so everything’s fine.

“Great, thanks,” Rowan responded, and once they had arrived at the ground floor, Aelin resisted the urge to grab him again.

That could not happen again.

[blossom-hwa]

Well in that case: Wooyoung + Yellow

wooyoung yellow supremacy LET'S GO the man is LITERAL SUNSHINE !!!!!!!!!!!! thank you so much for this request!!!!!!

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

This is set in the same universe as the model!Wooyoung I wrote after his studio choom aotm was released, You're the Only One Who Matters - you can read it here!

~

Title: Golden Hour

Pairing: Wooyoung x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Triggers: suggestive towards the end (NOTHING GRAPHIC)

~

The photoshoot finishes in the late afternoon, golden sunshine streaming down Wooyoung's slim figure and bathing him in warm light. With the ocean in the background shimmering in alternating shades of blue green and pinkish orange, he looks like a heaven-sent angel, touched down on earth to grace humanity with a piece of unearthly beauty.

It's perfect, you think as Mingi flips through the pictures on his camera, showing you each outfit, each pose Wooyoung held that day. The fitted suit, the coiffed hair, the light but prominent golden jewelry slung around his neck and arms... You allow yourself a moment of pride as you smile at Mingi. "These are great," you say, patting his shoulder. "Run them over by Hongjoong for a second opinion, but if he likes them, I think we're good to submit."

Mingi beams, flashing you a quick farewell before going off to find Hongjoong. You turn your attention to Wooyoung, who's thanking a group of staff on their way off the beach. "Wooyoung!" you call, stepping carefully over the sand.

At the sound of his name, a wide smile splashes across Wooyoung's face like the small waves breaking on the ocean, throwing bits of golden light into the air. "Y/N!" He bounds over, that smile radiating even more light than the sun. "How did I look?"

You smile at that, a variant of the question he's asked every shoot since that night so many months ago when he leaned in close, all silver jewelry and silk clothes and that alluring face, and asked you, "How do I look?" Unlike that time, though, you no longer have any issue answering the question Wooyoung so loves to ask.

"Gorgeous," you answer honestly. "If the magazine tells us to re-shoot these, I'm going to have to sue them or something. I think the photos we got this time are some of the best you've ever modeled." Reaching up, you rearrange the thin golden necklace around his throat. The metal is warm from the heat of his skin, and it sparkles in the sun. "So tell me, Woo, what's it like being the god of the sun at golden hour?"

He laughs at that, loud and cackling and with such genuine cheer that even though everyone here is used to his antics and giggles, they turn around anyway to watch him laugh with a smile. "It feels amazing," he replies, opening his arms with a dramatic flair. The thin material of his flowing sleeves ripples in the ocean breeze, making him look almost like a butterfly spreading its wings. "All these mortals gazing upon me, staring at me, taking pictures of me..."

"Alright alright, that's enough," you laugh, pushing him lightly. "We get it, you're beautiful."

"You didn't let me finish." Wooyoung pouts, his hands dropping back to his side. "I was about to say there was only one mortal who mattered."

You raise an eyebrow, even as your heart thuds a little faster. "And who might that be?"

"You." Wooyoung leans in and kisses you playfully. "Who else?"

"You sap." You shake your head, not even bothering to hide your smile anymore. "Let's get back to the hotel room. I think everyone's pretty much done here, and you need to get changed. I don't want these clothes ruined."

. . .

Face washed bare of makeup and hair still damp from the shower, Wooyoung walks out of the bathroom as you finish putting the clothes back where they belong. His footsteps pad softly on the floor and before you know it, he's hugging you from behind, chin hooked over your shoulder. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself." You turn your head back as much as you can to catch a glimpse of his face, eyes closed and lips smiling in seeming peace. "Tired?"

"No more than usual." He yawns, slightly, pulling away from your back to sit on the bed. "Are we still going to dinner?"

"As long as you're up for it." You take in his outfit - silk shirt with gold accents done by your hand, black pants, a thin golden pendant hung around his neck. "Judging by what you're wearing, I'm assuming that's a yes?"

"Yeah!" Wooyoung grins, bouncing slightly on the mattress. You break into a smile - looking at him like this, it's so hard to believe he was the same shining Adonis from several hours ago on the beach, basking in the golden sun like a god from the heavens. Wooyoung is no less beautiful in any situation, but as he beams up at you, you can't help but admire the duality he possess on a daily basis. It's fascinating. "You like the outfit? You made it."

You laugh. "I made the shirt," you correct, sitting next to him on the bed to adjust the collar. "Still playing up the sun god angle, aren't you?"

His grin turns slightly devilish. "Do you like it?"

This time you purposely withhold an answer, even though the smile on your face growing wider by the second spells everything out as clear as day. "What do you think?" you ask.

Wooyoung's eyes narrow. He tilts his head to one side, letting the collar you just adjusted slip down again to reveal a smooth expanse of skin. Internally, one part of you snorts at the obvious accidentally-on-purpose display, but the other part of you keeps feeling warmer by the second. He was giggling just minutes ago - how does he change so fast?

"I think..." He pauses, and instinctively you know that the tables have turned. Whatever hold you once had over him disappears as Wooyoung leans in, placing a warm hand on your thigh. "I think you like it very much," he says, breath ghosting over your skin.

Involuntarily, you shiver slightly. The sun outside the window streams over Wooyoung's body, shimmering on the silk with its gold accents, bathing him in the warmth of a god sending a blessing on their chosen ones. "You're right," you whisper, almost afraid that if you speak too loudly, you'll break this blissful golden spell Wooyoung has cast on you, bathing you in his warm light. "I do."

The hand on your thigh presses a little more. "Want to show me how much?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Didn't you say you wanted dinner?"

"Dinner can wait." Wooyoung gently pushes you into the mattress with a grin somewhere between a laugh and a smirk. You really want to kiss it. "We still have a bit of golden hour left, don't we?"

[maddieinwonder]

A Lesson In Romance #7: False Start

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Just a lot of awkward vibes hahaha

Word Count: 1.7k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they try to confess their feelings.

A/N: I didn’t actually manage to include the definition of a False Start in the chapter itself, so I’ll add it at the end. No spoilers for now!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

-----------

It took you 24 hours to decide that you were going to do something about your feelings for the good doctor. Pretty quick, considering you were a living, breathing rom-com cynic. But as ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, once said: "The only constant in life is change".

Specifically, change happened after you woke up in your cute co-worker and dear friend's arms and you wanted nothing more than to get back into them as fast as possible.

But by the universal laws of working in the BAU, catching a break seemed to be the hardest when you actually wanted one.

Firstly, it was like every serial killer in the country decided to cancel their vacations simultaneously, swamping the team with urgent case after case. At this point, you were more familiar with the couch on the jet than your bed at home, and everyone was feeling the strain.

Secondly, if you weren't sleeping, you were usually out in the field chasing unsubs with Derek or Rossi. You had stopped holding out hope for being paired with Spencer — on account of your areas of specialty overlapping too much, and Hotch not being the type of leader to waste his resources — and as a result:

Thirdly, getting even ten minutes alone with the genius became an impossible task, and not for lack of trying either. At the start of the month, the two of you had tried to adapt your breakfast ritual to the road, but it always got interrupted mid-coffee order or even at the ding of the lift. Not that you and Spencer stopped trying, no, but your patience was wearing thin.

So you did something you hadn't done since you submitted your application to join the BAU — you prayed for a chance.

Because every day that you didn't admit your feelings to the doctor was another day fighting the compulsion to tell somebody else about them, and god only knows what a room full of profilers (and one nosy tech analyst) would do with that kind of information.

Then, out of the blue, the door of opportunity opened.

After two weeks of straight travel, the team had earned a well-deserved one night’s rest in your own beds before dealing with a local case, bright and early tomorrow morning. And since your flight landed at 2am and all the trains had stopped by then, this gave you the perfect shot to execute your plan.

Unfortunately, you forgot to take into account the most important factor — your nerves.

It didn't help that Derek had wolf-whistled in the carpark as the two of you walked off in the same direction, nor that Spencer immediately put your favourite album into the CD player out of instinct; an overly domestic action that made your heart beat even faster.

But it was when you arrived in front of his apartment building that you felt the worst of it. As you tried to summon the right words to your lips, your heart hammered in your chest and your thoughts jumbled themselves into nonsense.

"Are you ok?" Spencer asked, snapping you out of your anxious spiral instantly. "You don't look so well."

"I-I'm fine." Your fingers twitched nervously.

"Doesn't seem like it." He looked down at your hands, and you cursed your subconscious brain for giving you away. Then, he placed a hand over yours and your heart stopped.

"You're not alright, that's for sure, but it seems like it's just sleep deprivation." He assessed, bending slightly to look at your face. "You can't drive in this state. Do you want to come in?”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, ready to protest, but Spencer beat you to it. "Let’s go. You wanted to talk about something, right?" He called out, already one foot out of the car.

Before you could realise what was happening, you found yourself sitting on Spencer's couch holding a warm cup of tea.

This was the first time you were in his apartment. Yet, it was exactly what you thought it'd be like. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, filled to max capacity with books of every topic imaginable from neuroscience to philosophy. Those that didn't make it to the shelves were found in random stacks around his apartment, standing out against his forest green walls.

"Did you know that chamomile tea is a natural remedy for insomnia? In fact, it is commonly regarded as a mild tranquilizer. It's calming effects may be attributed to the antioxidant apigenin, which binds to specific receptors in your brain that initiate sleep and reduce anxiety." He explained, walking over with his own mug.

"I actually did know that." You smiled. The tea seemed to work its magic because you did feel relaxed, and you must have looked it too, because the worried frown disappeared off Spencer's face.

"Didn't know you were a tea person." You commented lightly, blowing the steam from your mug.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me." He replied mysteriously, and you raised your eyebrows.

Spencer's apartment was too quiet, no rumbling fridge or quiet radio playing in the background to make your awkward silence any less pronounced. It was then that you noticed he didn't have a TV. Somehow this fact didn't surprise you very much.

"You... you wanted to talk to me about something?" He broke the silence, looking down at the hot tea swirling in his mug.

Right. You were here to talk about your feelings. Your face flushed as you tried to summon your willpower, again.

"I wanted to tell you something—" You began shakily. "But before that, I just want to preface, we can ignore this entire thing if you don't agree. I mean, I really enjoy our friendship as it is, and I wouldn't want to do anything to affect tha—"

"Wait." Spencer interrupted urgently, before catching himself. "Sorry, um, before that, can I say something?"

"Um, ok, shoot." You replied meekly, trying to hide your relief behind a long sip of tea. There was a pause as he gathered his thoughts, and you might have been seeing things, but he looked almost... nervous? 

"The day we met, I calculated the probability of meeting somebody that shared my exact coffee order and the result was almost one in a million.” He finally spoke, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “That probability decreased when I factored in working together, sharing the same interests, and... and how I enjoyed spending time with you more than with anybody else."

Spencer cleared his throat, a blush coming onto his cheeks.

"Ever since then... my life just started making sense. I know I’m a scientist, not a poet, and I could tell you all the statistics about relationships in the world, but when it comes to you...”

His cheeks were crimson now, as he ran his fingers through his hair. You had a feeling yours looked the same.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that I think you're beautiful and smart, and I have no idea what you see in me, but I'd really—"

Suddenly, both your phones buzzed violently against his coffee table, jolting you out of the moment. You leaned over in a trained motion, only to see exactly what you expected:

Garcia: No rest for the wicked, crime fighters. Conference room in 30.

Penny: No rest for the wicked, crime fighters. Conference room in 30.

You let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding, and Spencer looked over at you, doe-eyed and nervous.

“The case?" He asked quietly.

There was a silence filled with words unsaid. "We should go." He said finally. "If we leave now, we can still make it on time."

You only nodded in response, more out of duty than desire, and gulped down the rest of your tea. The thought of what he was about to say burned down your throat.

Driving away from Spencer’s apartment was torturous. The doctor hadn’t said anything to you since he entered the car, only fiddling with his bag as he looked out the window. It was too dark to read his expression, but you wondered if he could still hear the way he called you “beautiful”, or whether the moment had already dissolved into the space between you.

Luckily, you didn’t need to wait long for an answer, as Spencer tugged on your sleeve before you exited the carpark, his face scrunched in worry.

"I really didn't mean for that to be so... weird. Can we talk about this again after the case?" He asked softly, and despite every semblance of logic left in your brain, you couldn’t stop the hope from blooming in your chest and you smiled.

That was when Spencer did something completely uncharacteristic. (You didn't know this at the time, but it was something that you would tease him about for a long time after.)

In one fluid movement, the doctor pulled you into a tight hug that elicited a squeak from you, but it only took a second for the initial shock to wear off before you relaxed completely into his warm touch. He took that as a sign to continue, burying his head into your shoulder and letting out a content sigh.

Unlike waking up to your bodies intertwined, nothing about this was a mistake. Not the way his fingers stroked your back peacefully, nor the way his curly hair tickled your cheek. You felt the stress of the past two weeks melt away in his embrace, and so did any coherent thought, except one: normal friends didn't hug each other like this.

Later when the two of you finally entered the conference room, miraculously still on time, nobody commented on the smiles plastered on your faces but everybody could tell. They were profilers after all.

But for the first time in awhile, you were just too happy to care.

-----------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @mellowalieneggsknight || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

Definition of a False Start here

[amysteriousmessenger]

have you ever done rfa headcanons with a stressed out mc? because of like deadlines and stuff? cause that's the state I'm in rn and I need comfort ;-;

this is my second time writing this because my laptop deleted it ;-; I hope this is okay and I added V and Saeran because I’m a saeran simp <3 

RFA + Saeran and V with a Stressed Out Reader Headcanons

Yoosung Kim with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Yoosung’s in the exact same camp as you, screaming. He spent the entire semester in front of his PC playing LOLOL and getting bullied by Seven, so now his deadline has creeped up on him. Yoosung absolutely understands the stress of a deadline coming at you fast and not being sure as to whether you can complete it in time.

The best thing that Yoosung can do for you is to do his own work. The two of you spend a straight 48 hours in the library, only taking breaks to go home and sleep and get food. You book out a private room and just mutually get your heads down. 

 Yoosung’s actually really smart, he just doesn’t apply himself. If you’re stuck on anything, he’ll try to help you even if he doesn’t know anything about your course. He’ll also run around the library finding you specific textbooks you need if he needs a walk or if he’s on his way back from getting you both a coffee. 

The life of a student is a hard one, but the two of you just keep reminding each other than you just gotta get through this one deadline and then you can sleep and play to your hearts content once again!

Zen/Hyun Ryu with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

It’s times like this that Zen thinks maybe he should have applied himself more in school, or at least got his qualifications, because he feels a little deflated at the fact that he can’t really help you with your work when you need it. He just looks at your laptop and textbooks and draws a blank. He hates seeing you so stressed, and he hates that he’s useless to help even more.

He figured that, if he can’t help you work, the next best thing would be to help you relax afterwards. He tries to keep out of your way, the best he can, but he gets a little sad and feels neglected, so he’s a bit like a puppy when he can sense you’re close to finishing up for the day.

 Zen thinks a nice, hot bubble bath would help you relax best. He’ll run you one when you close your laptop, leading you to the bathroom where he’s already sprinkled some rose petals and sweetly scented body oils into the steamy water. 

He’ll help you in, and then sit on the side of the bath and give your shoulders a rub, commenting on how they must ache after sitting at your desk for so long. It’s no secret that Zen has ~Magic Fingers~ and he massages away the tension in your neck as you melt into the soothing water. 

He’ll hum and sing little songs to you as he does this, finally happy that he can help you in his own special way. Ignore his comments about stress ageing you quicker, he’s just saying it as a pre-emptive measure rather than implying you have stress lines.

Jaehee Kang with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Jaehee exists in a permanent state of stress, so she entirely understands what it’s like to have to meet deadline after deadline after deadline. If you tell her that you want to sit with her so you can share her concentration and get work done, she’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee. She’s also ready with the eye drops and painkillers for when your eyes get strained, but she’d really rather you not get to the point of needing them. 

Jaehee reminds you that you need to look after yourself, make sure you’re taking breaks and eating enough. She doesn’t want you to follow in her steps of pulling an all-nighter, so she doesn’t disturb you so you can get as much of your work done as possible. If you want her to, she’ll also gently reprimand you when you’re getting distracted or off task. She doesn’t like telling you what you can and can’t do, but she knows it’s going to help you in the long run. 

She’ll aim to get all of her work done at the same time as you, so the two of you can at least have some time to unwind together afterwards. She’ll put your favourite musical (of Zen’s) into the DVD player and you cuddle up with one another in recovery. She’ll also try to pull you in for an early night of sleep since you’ve been staring at a screen all day and doesn’t want you to get a headache. 

Jumin Han with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Jumin never really gets stressed out over anything. In fact, the only things you’ve ever seen him get stressed about are you and Elizabeth the Third. He doesn’t really have the need or see the point in getting stressed over things, especially deadlines. Jumin will absolutely go off on a speech about correct time management and planning before you have to interrupt him and tell him that that’s not the problem. 

Having a Mensa-level IQ, Jumin’s probably already decently knowledge on your area of study, or offers to pay for you to have a tutor. Jumin’s honestly not the best person to be around when you’re stressed by deadlines because he really can’t relate to the panic, he’s too good at being a businessman that he gets everything done on time or, most usually, early. 

You do have to remind Jumin that not everyone can function and organise themselves as well as he can. 

However, it displeases him to see you stressed so he’ll at least try to help with that since you won’t let him help you academically. He’ll share a bottle of wine with you in the evening after you’ve finished for the day to help take your mind off of your deadline for a bit and will plan a small weekend getaway for the week after your assignment due date to reward you for getting your work done in time and to help you relax. He’ll also book you a spa day in one of C&R’s own establishments so he can guarantee you’re getting the best treatment. 

Saeyoung Choi with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

This man lives with more existential fear than anyone. He knows what it’s like to be Stressed TM. Seven’s an absolute genius with an IQ that could rival Jumin’s if he cared enough, so he’s never had to worry about academic worries, even when he was in University. 

If you ask him to, and maybe even if you didn’t, he’d be willing to hack your college or University’s database in order to either get the essay questions in advance so you know what to revise, or just straight up get the answers. He knows what frightening deadlines are like and he doesn’t want to see you suffer.

If you say that you don’t want him to hack your university because that’s, y’know, illegal, he’ll earnestly take a look at your paper and try to help. Seven has such a weird widespread collection of information in his head that he can just straight up tell you the essay or directly get the research essay that best fits your argument online. You said he can’t hack your university database, you didn’t say he can’t hack other databases for information. 

If you passed out asleep at your desk, you’d absolutely wake up to find your work finished and submitted. Seven will deny doing it, claiming that the alien mothership must have taken your laptop and completed your work, but he has a shit-eating grin plasters on his face and he’s oh-so-innocently fluttering his eyelashes. 

Saeran Choi with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Saeran never really went to school, so he doesn’t have much experience with academic work but he picks it up very quickly when it comes to helping you!

He brings you hot chocolate and snacks and gives you a kiss on the side of the head every now and then to spur you on. He’ll also try to help you with reading through documents and essays for important information and anything that might be relevant to your course. From his time at Magenta, he’s very good at skimming through large quantities of work and compiling it into shorter documents so he’s absolutely a great person to have helping you. He has a similar IQ to Seven and is a genius in his own right, but he has to apply himself more to knowing about different topics because he’s never really had the opportunity to, but he’s always very interested to know about what you’re studying!

He’s very good at not disturbing you if you need peace and quiet, so he’ll busy himself with cleaning, cooking or going out in the garden so he can leave you without a distraction whilst occasionally dropping in to see how you’re doing and make sure you’re not getting too stressed out.

When you’re done for the day, Saeran will arrange the time to give you a little comfort evening with movies and a snack to make you feel better and help you unwind. 

Ray would absolutely just do your work for you, if you’d let him. He just wants to please you and see you happy, not swallowed up in stress in the same way that he has to be. He’d go without sleeping or eating if it meant helping you. Of course, you’re not going to let him do that, since you want him to rest properly, but he still wants to help. Ray would send you documents and essays when he’s supposed to be working and then exit the tab whenever anyone walks passed his room so he didn’t get caught. He just wants to ease your burden!

V/Jihyun Kim with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

He’s also incredibly smart, but probably wouldn’t have any major knowledge on what is it that you study but he’d help the best way he can. He’s the kinda person that would encourage you to read through the questions several times before you start answering and to not write anything down until you’re fully sure that you understand the source material and what is being asked of you.

He doesn’t like seeing you stressed and he’s helpful by nature so he’d ask if you needed help, and if you say no, he’ll give you space to get on with your work without interruption. V will make you food and bring your lunch with a coffee when it’s time to eat.

Like Jumin, he’d offer to share a bottle of wine to help you unwind when you’re getting too stressed in the evening, and if you can afford to take a break, he’d encourage you to do something creative like painting with him in his studio in order to take your mind off the analytical stuff. It doesn’t have to be good, it just had to help you relax and vent your frustrations!

V gets stiff shoulders when he’s been in the same position for long periods of time painting or waiting to capture a particular image, so he understands the usefulness of a good back rub and he’ll offer you one to loosen up the pressure in the back of your neck when you’re sitting at your desk. He’ll massage his thumbs into your shoulders and plant a little kiss on your lips when you lean your head back to look at him.

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Auxilium (College!Xiao x College!Reader)

TW: mentions blood, depression, anxiety

note: it's my first time writing and posting something on tumblr so im sorry if it's bad!! reader is gn hehe.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick. Humans make decisions that eventually shape their personalities. What does a new year have anything to do with that? Does a change in the year automatically make you a good person? Does it make you less of an asshole than you might already be? He never really understood.

He found it rather silly, actually. Whenever a new year rolls around, Xiao would mutter silent curses to himself because he'd write the wrong year on his papers. Other than that, there wasn't any significant changes he made in his daily routine. He was still the same Xiao; The same anxious, mildly depressed, and coffee-high art major Xiao.

Now, Xiao was a respected figure in their college (or at least, that's what he was told). He was one of the most talented artists at Tokyo University, and professors have been eyeing him for a scholarship overseas (he, along with his brooding and mysterious senior, Diluc). His keen eye for details always produce great results as most of his portraits are featured in the university's gallery of students' greatest works. Not to mention, one of his larger canvas works were displayed at the Tokyo Museum, making him one of the youngest artists to have their art showcased there.

Admittedly, Xiao was aware of how people admired his talent. Unfortunately, due to a rough childhood where his parents barely showed him any love and affection, he had trouble reflecting his true emotions onto other people. That's why other art majors often labelled him as a self-absorbed, egotistical prick.

Xiao was the last person you'd want to compliment. It's not that he'd be a dick about it or that he'd scowl at you and act as if he was better than you in every way possible. It wasn't like that at all. It's simply because Xiao doesn't know how to handle compliments. He'll still keep his stoic face, lips pressed in a straight line, but deep inside, he'd be flustered to bits. He'd try to internalize his reply, stitching together the right words to express his gratitude, but it would always take him a few minutes. The person who complimented him would've already left after he finally constructed the sentence in his head. Not that he wasn't used to it

This led to Xiao earning his current reputation, as stated earlier. He was already expecting the rest of his college years to be spent alone in his studio, working on his artworks during the wee hours of the night, high on the fumes of his paint palette and his exhausted coffee machine.

Until you came.

Kaoru was... eccentric. You were loud, you were moody. He felt like you'd be the type of person he'd hate dealing with just because you was unpredictable. You were like the rain, and Xiao hated the rain.

He must have an Archon's cursed tongue, because he got paired up with you during the first semester of their second year in college. You were a familiar name to him, as you were in the same course since the first year, but he barely knew anything about you since you were in different classes.

"Hey, Xiao! I'm _____. I hope we can be good friends by the end of the semester!" His memory of your bright smile still remains vivid in his head. He wasn't really a brooding type like Diluc, but Xiao liked to believed that he presented himself as a silent person who had no intentions of interacting with other people. So, how were you so bubbly around him? Because she was forced to do so? You were to be his partner for the whole semester, after all. Maybe it was all formalities. Yeah, that's probably it.

"Hm." Xiao gave a nod in her direction, acknowledging your existence. you heard from your friends that the young artist didn't have a pleasing personality, but you weren't expecting to be shutdown from the get-go.

"Mind if I sit beside you?"

Again, a light nod.

You felt the awkward tension between you and Xiao, and you hated it. You were a person who hated it when people are uncomfortable in your presence. You didn't want to be a bother, and you did your best to make everyone like you. Not that you were a people pleaser, nor an attention hog, but you just wanted to get along with everyone.

The lecture was going to begin in twenty minutes, so the lecture hall was yet to be filled with people. You took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the amber eyed man beside you, who was typing away on his laptop. Something about color theory and how it affects the perspective of people on different art types? You couldn't really see that well. He was a fast typer.

"So, Xiao, I heard that your painting was displayed in the Tokyo Museum last year. It must have been an honor. I was at the unveiling last year and I saw it up-close." You started off, testing the waters.

"And what did you think of it?" Xiao cringed internally. He meant to genuinely ask for your feedback regarding his art, but it sounded so harsh that he wanted to punch himself when he saw you wince (or maybe you shuddered because it was cold and you were wearing a sleeveless top? His nerves were getting the better of him at this point).

"Well, a lot of my friends told me that it wasn't anything special,"

Ouch.

"It was a large canvas. I can still remember how it looks. But, maybe that's because I'm at the museum every two weeks," You laughed. You noticed how Xiao's breathing noticeably changed after you started your sentence, and you have to admit that it sounded a bit too mean.

"You know, Xiao. My friends told me that your art was simple. Anyone could have done it. But honestly, they couldn't be more wrong. I love how your piece was painted. Auxilium. I'll never forget what you called it. That's... Help, right?"

At first, Xiao didn't want to listen to this person ramble about an art piece he made during one of the lowest points of his life.

His anti-depressants had run out during that one Christmas. It was 2:47 in the morning. He had morning classes the following day. He had a project to submit, but he was unable to continue working because of the unbearable pain in his chest. His head was throbbing. Voices were invading his mind. Flashbacks of his parents' negligence taunted him. He rushed to grab a glass of water, chugging it down in almost three chugs. He slammed the glass back onto the counter, smashing it into tiny little splinters and cutting himself in the process. His hand was bleeding, there were bits of glass on his counter and on his floor, but he couldn't care less. He was heaving, his breathing was unsteady, he wanted to die right then and there. His vision became blurry, but he rushed back to his studio.

With a bleeding hand, he picked up his brush and began to tear into his canvas. Not literally, but he started to create strokes onto the blank canvas. Different colors, different textures (he swore some of his blood got blended in with the area where he painted the sunrise, but it's fine. No one was going to notice, right?). He screamed and cried, wanting to throw the entire easel out his window.

It was Christmas. He was alone in his apartment. His anti-depressants ran out. He was having a panic attack.

That night led him to having one of the worst breakdowns he could remember, but he also ended up with a gorgeous painting that nabbed him a place in the Tokyo Museum.

"Help," Your voice echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his trance.

"People can tell me that it's nothing more than a simple painting, but the way that the sunrise was only showing in a segmented part of the canvas? The way that there were hints of red? It kind of reminded me how a new day can resemble hope but still contain hurt. Like, the promise of a fresh start isn't guaranteed a good one, right?"

Your words rang in his ears like a gong being hit continuously. He wanted to cry. People always complimented him and congratulated him about being recognized by art critics and national museums, but none of them ever really stopped to talk to him about his art. They were there for his recognition- not his work.

"I mean, you could begin with a fresh start, but wouldn't the remnants of yesterday still take a toll on your tomorrow?"

"Hm. Interesting take. To be honest, those specks could have been my blood." Xiao spoke up, to your surprise. A small smile formed on your face. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

"My hand was cut up when I was painting that," He added quietly, not mentioning why his hand was in that state. "I think I accidentally added too much concentrated red. I couldn't blend it out the way I originally planned."

"Oh? But that makes it all the more great, though!" You beamed, "Maybe it was an Archon guiding you? I don't really believe in that stuff, but acknowledging some divine intervention once in a while can't be all bad, no?" You laughed.

"I guess you're right." For the first time in a while, Xiao actually gave someone else a small smile. It wasn't really a smile per se, but his lips curved even the slightest bit upward, and you decided that it was a win for you.

-

Fast forward to the second semester of their third year.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick.

It had been years since he was clinically-diagnosed with mild depression. So, why was he still that way? Shouldn't new years help him be a better person? Or something like that. Why was he still like this?

Late February meant the end of one semester, and the start of another.

What else did that mean?

His semestral feedback report (he refused to call it a report card. What was he, high school?).

"Xiao? Are you here? I bought almond tofu from Xiangling's place. Sorry for barging in, you weren't answering my calls." He heard your voice from the kitchen and he glanced at the clock on his studio's wall.

1:37 AM.

You were at Xiangling's place because you were working on a report about the history of acrylic paints or whatever it was. You were supposed to go home, but you still dropped by his apartment. He checked his phone.

[ 14 missed calls. ]

Yikes.

"I'm here." He answered meekly, but loud enough for you to hear. He felt tired. Defeated, maybe. He was blankly staring at the canvas in front of him. He has sketched the base of your face and upper body. He was planning on painting a portrait of his beloved to decorate his room with, but he couldn't find the energy to continue.

He could hear the soft "thud"s of your feet walking from the kitchen towards the studio, but he tuned it out with an annoying static he could only hear in his head.

Fuck. Where are they?

He rushed to the drawer next to his easels and rummaged around in a panic.

Where the fuck are they?

He kept a few anti-depressants in his studio because he spends most of his time here and he didn't have time to rush to the kitchen to get them if he ever got a panic attack.

"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, throwing the contents of his desk onto the floor. Some of his paintbrushes scattered on the wooden floor of his studio, marking the wood various colors. Maybe they're going to stain, but he didn't really care.

Xiao heard the footsteps retreating until he couldn't hear anything else except the constant ringing in his ears. It was annoying. It was loud. It started to make him want to split his head open.

"_____," He whispered, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten. The passageways helping him breathe seemed to close themselves, giving him a hard time and mocking him. It was coming back again.

Tears started to flood his vision, and they rolled down his red cheeks. He took the ponytail out of his hair and used two hands to tug at his locks starting from the roots. His breathing patterns became more erratic, but he tried his best to stay calm.

His knees and legs felt like jelly. He had to lean against the desk to avoid from toppling over.

Why? Why again? Why now? Why when you were here?

He screamed. It was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but his care for any external entities was out the window the moment his eyes became blurry with tears.

Even though he was leaning against the desk, his legs still couldn't hold the weight of his entire body. His knees dropped to the floor, and he swore he must've dented the wood below, but he paid no mind to it. His knees were also aching, but he could deal with that later. He bent down and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"_____," He whispered again, longing for his partner. "Auxilium."

"Xiao?" The voice was muffled. His eyes were glued to the floor in front of him, but he knew it was you.

"Xiao, stay with me, honey." There was a hint of panic evident in your voice, but he was glad that you didn't let that get the best of you. You was still somewhat calm.

You kneeled down beside him, helping him back to an upright position.

"Honey, you left these on the counter outside." You handed him two tablets of his anti-depressants, and he gladly placed them in his mouth. You also gave him a glass of water, and he downed it in two swift gulps. Afraid that he might underestimate his strength, he returned the glass back to you instead of setting it down himself, nodding at you in the process.

You got into a more comfortable position where you rested your back against the wall, and you guided Xiao to follow you. It was a difficult task; He was very sensitive during his panic attacks.

His semestral feedback reports always made him anxious. He didn't have to please his parents anymore since he moved out years ago, but Xiao had this nagging feeling inside of him to do better with his academics. Nobody was really pressuring him to be a straight-A student, but did he feel like he needed to be? Who was he trying to prove himself to anyway? You knew about his sever panic attacks and how they were more active if he had a big event coming up. The first time you had to deal with it, you were still stiff and trying to learn how you could help. Now, you takes pride in yourself for being able to handle him in the ways you know would help him the most.

"Here you go, I've got you." You cooed, assisting him with moving. You laid his head flat on her lap and she began stroking his beautiful, tousled forest green locks. The highlights he had under the first layer of his hair started to fade, and you made a mental note to take him to a salon so they could get their highlights redone.

"You know, I've been listening to a lot of Coldplay lately," You started speaking, as if Xiao wasn't about to have a full-on panic attack. "Yellow would have to be one of my favorite songs. I guess it's kinda cheesy, but can you blame me?"

You used your free hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you." You began singing, voice just above a whisper.

"And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow."

Xiao was a reserved person who had a hard time dealing with other people because of his inferiority complex that sprouted when he was young.

"I came along, I wrote a song for you."

He didn't have love and affection growing up. He didn't know how to be the best person to talk to. He had poor communication skills. He was a mess, to be honest.

"And all the things you do. And it was called yellow."

You were the first person who looked past his rough and tough exterior. You were the person who showed interest not just in his name- but in him as a whole.

"So when I took my turn, what a thing to've done."

"Thank you," He murmured silently, noticing that the ringing in his ears vanished. His throat was beginning to open again, and he could finally feel the steady heartbeat he had in his chest.

"And it was all yellow."

Xiao curled himself into a ball, burying his face in your clothed stomach. You smelled a bit like smoke (maybe you ate yakiniku at Xiangling's?) and your faded cologne. It smelled like home. It washed a sense of relief over his entire being. He felt safe. He felt secure. He was being held like a child, but he didn't really mind. Maybe he needed this.

"Your skin. Oh yeah, your skin and bones,"

You craned your neck downwards to look at Xiao's figure. He finally looked peaceful. You knew about his rough past. You knew about the trauma he had to go through, but you chose to look past it because you knew that he was just afraid and... alone. He needed someone to be there for him, and you would rather the world die than leave him alone ever again.

"Turn into something beautiful."

You noticed how his chest started a rhythmic pattern of ups and downs. His breathing was finally steady. He looked at peace. He looked like he was right at home.

"Do you know? You know I love you so."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched him sleep in your lap. How could anyone think that this softie was an asshole?

"You know I love you so."

You barely whispered the last part of the song, but it was loud enough for his heart to hear it. Xiao hated when things were unpredictable; that's why he hated the rain. But now, maybe the idea of rain wasn't so bad. Especially since you were his rain.

"I love you, Xiao."

At that moment, you knew that the involuntary smile on Xiao's face was a response that contained more emotions than his words could ever bear.

"I love you too."

[retro-scorpio]

The Arcana Meets The Devildom (Part Seven)

The Evolution of MC’s Relationship With The Residents of The House of Lamentation

Author’s Note: Even though the MC described in the following post will be based on myself, I will not be using my actual name, a fictional name, or gendered pronouns for MC at this time. I still want it to be accessible to people, and I feel like giving a name/gendered pronouns to my version of MC will remove a layer of that accessibility. Plus, it will (hopefully) allow people to insert themselves, their version of MC, and/or their OC into this if they so choose. Also, this is going to end up being a long post that uses explicit language, so if that’s not your thing, you can just scroll past this.

Fictional Backstory: Upon dying from the Red Plague, MC finds themselves not in the afterworld that they had familiarized themselves with, but plopped down in the student council room of the Royal Academy of Diavolo with only the memories of the faces they left behind in Vesuvia and the knowledge of the magic they learned while they were still ‘”alive”. Once MC passes through the portal to return to the human world after their second stint in the Devildom, they find themselves back in Vesuvia due to Asra raising them from the “dead”. Neither the residents of Vesuvia nor the Devildom know that they’ve dealt with the same MC until after Julian, Asra, and Lucio’s arrival to the Devildom. Let’s just say everyone was in for a treat when their beloved MC strolled into the residence they were visiting and said hello to the Vesuvian person in the room.

Julian: MC’s main lover in Vesuvia. MC actually developed a crush on the plague doctor when they were his apprentice, but due to the relationship they had with Asra at the time, they kept their feelings to themselves. What MC likes the most about Julian (besides his good looks) is his sense of humor, because it shows the full range of his personality: intelligent and witty yet goofy and a little stupid. When it comes to bedroom activities, MC and Julian keep things fresh and exciting. There are times where they’ll do the good ol’ missionary sex, times where Julian will fuck MC silly (usually after an evening show at the community theater in Goldgrave when Julian just has so much adrenaline from acting on stage that he can’t sit still), and times where MC will edge Julian and make him beg for his orgasm. 

Out of the three Vesuvian men, Julian is the most understanding and accepting of MC pursuing other people romantically during their stay in the Devildom. To paraphrase Julian, MC was considered dead in Vesuvia for the three years MC spent in this other world, and his relationship with MC didn’t start until after MC rose from the dead/returned from the Devildom, so he considers it a part of MC’s past that they should not feel ashamed of. MC enjoys the fact that Julian gets on with her Devildom friends/lovers as well as he does for a variety of reasons (as you, the reader, will see unfold in this post and in others).

Lucifer: MC’s main lover in the Devildom. MC developed a crush on the eldest demon brother pretty much the moment they set eyes on him, but unfortunately for MC, Lucifer initially saw them as a weak human exchange student that he was forced to take care of. Lucifer’s impression of MC only worsened when they went up the stairs to the attic, and MC was incredibly heartbroken and pissed when they found out that Lucifer was the one responsible for locking Belphie up in the attic and deceiving the other brothers about Belphie’s whereabouts. These feelings culminate in the underground tomb. MC, incredibly angry at Lucifer and yet (somehow) wanting to gain his approval, wraps Lucifer’s hands around their neck and dares him/gives him permission to kill them as punishment for allowing Luke access to the House of Lamentation and dragging Beel in their shenanigans. 

Initially after this incident, Lucifer and MC wanted very little to do with each other, but as time wore on, they slowly grew closer to one another. MC’s crush on Lucifer resumed, albeit cautiously, and Lucifer started developing feelings of his own towards MC, although he would have never admitted that to himself or anyone else, not even Asmo (who sensed Lucifer’s crush on MC perhaps even before Lucifer himself did). Perhaps Asmo was on to something, because why would Lucifer feel as betrayed as he did when MC told him that they had met Belphegor? Sure, he felt that MC had just put his entire family at risk of experiencing Diavolo’s wrath, which is a decent enough reason to become irate at someone, but there was something else that was feeding into his anger as well, something that was related to love. MC, in a fit of passion and after Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, and Beel entered the room and tried to stop Lucifer from annihilating MC, grabbed a nearby knife and chopped two of their fingers off, staring Lucifer dead in the face and not shedding a single tear (due to adrenaline numbing the pain). 

Once the situation with Belphegor was resolved and the youngest brother was allowed to live with the rest of his family again, Lucifer calls MC into his study and put their fingers back on with some sewing and a bit of magic. Just as MC is about to leave, Lucifer tells MC that he’s sorry. MC, understand that it takes a lot for the Avatar of Pride to apologize, forgives him, and Lucifer thanks them for their forgiveness. This interaction would be the catalyst for their romantic relationship, and they would eventually repeat this exchange when MC is about to kill Lucifer with the Night Dagger.

Lucifer and MC’s romantic relationship is one built on admiration for each other. Get Lucifer drunk on Demonus, and he’ll blab all about how much he adores everything about MC. The pair can usually be found in one of four places at the House: Lucifer’s study, the library, the music room, and Lucifer’s bedroom. The library and music room are safe places for the couple to be discovered in, for they’re either reading (library) or listening to the other play music (music room). Lucifer’s study is a bit of a gamble, for they could either be working on paperwork/schoolwork in each other’s company, or Lucifer could have MC bent over his desk and ramming his dick in and out of them.

As for Lucifer’s bedroom, it’s best for everyone involved if no one disturbs Lucifer and MC. Most of the time, Lucifer uses his bedroom to explore MC’s kinks. About half the time, it gets sexual; the other half is mere discovery of what MC likes and what MC deems as limits. Sometimes, when Lucifer just wants to be close to MC, they will do the good ol’ missionary. MC is one of two people that can get Lucifer to submit to them, and that happens only when the eldest demon brother wants a break from being in charge of everything.

Lucifer was pleased to find out that not only did MC and Julian know each other, but that they started a romantic relationship when MC returned to Vesuvia. Since Julian is (sort of) the Vesuvian version of him, it raises his pride (and ego) to discover that they both fit MC’s type. If MC doesn’t bring the idea up first, he might just suggest bringing Julian into some of their bedroom activities.

Mammon: One of MC’s fuck buddies in the Devildom. Initially, Mammon and MC vehemently hated each other. Mammon thought that MC was a pretentious snob, and MC believed Mammon to be a complete and utter asshole. Whenever they were near each other, they would inevitably butt heads and argue loudly, to the annoyance and shock of everyone else.

One of these arguments occurs in Mammon’s room. Lucifer had sent MC in there to help tutor Mammon, since they were doing well in the classes that Mammon was failing. MC gets frustrated that Mammon isn’t even trying to get the material, and Mammon accuses MC of only helping him in order to stay on Lucifer’s good side. MC lets a compliment slip when they yell at Mammon, “If I didn’t think there was a way for you to wrap your brain around this, I wouldn’t still be here!” Mammon stares at MC as MC processes what they just said, and the pair are so still and quiet that someone could hear a pin drop. Then, as if someone hit the fast forward button, Mammon pounces on MC, and they aggressively make out. Thirty minutes later, both are a naked, sweaty mess on Mammon’s couch, and the room reeks of what they’ve just done. Thank goodness demons can only impregnate when it’s mating season...

When Mammon isn’t fucking the shit out of MC (which is what usually happens when MC and Mammon get together sexually, despite popular belief), the pair is seen tinkering around with Mammon’s car. While MC does still tutor Mammon at times, Mammon’s (finally) at a point where he’s at least passing all of his classes. Mammon sometimes takes MC out with him to his modeling gigs, which has resulted in MC ending up on the cover of a couple magazines.

When Mammon found out about MC’s other life in Vesuvia, he initially got really jealous of Julian, but that feeling quickly got replaced with something else when he found out about the nature of MC and Lucio’s relationship. In his ongoing attempt of earning all the Grimm in the world, Mammon gets the “brilliant” idea to film a really filthy porno starring him, Lucio, and MC (with MC’s consent, of course). Mammon also likes taking naps with MC and Julian for some reason that he still doesn’t quite understand.

Levi: One of MC’s friends in the Devildom that they hooked up with once. Levi hated MC long after the TSL trivia showdown, and MC had no idea why. At first, MC chalked up Levi’s hatred towards them to his feelings about losing to someone he deemed inferior to him, but as time went on and Levi still was acting cold towards them, MC felt that there was something else that was upsetting Levi. As it turns out, it all boiled down to Levi’s sin: envy. Levi was jealous of MC on a multitude of levels. He saw how MC was acing the subjects that he struggled in; he saw how well MC got along with everyone; and he even saw how easy it was for MC to express their feelings for someone. Long story short, Levi felt inadequate against and unworthy of spending time with MC, and he hated both himself and MC for it.

All it took for him to change his mind was an impromptu family gaming night in Levi’s room. The game? DarioKart (the Devildom equivalent of MarioKart). Levi was winning every single race he was in, even against decent racers like MC, Beel, and Lucifer. Asmo, being the Avatar of Lust, was the first to discover that Levi’s skills at DarioKart was causing MC to, shall we say, look at the third-eldest demon brother in a new light. At Asmo’s advice, MC whispered in Levi’s ear that if he won the next race he competed in, they would make this a night to remember. MC gave him a kiss on the cheek, and that was enough motivation for him to destroy his opponents in his next race. With Lucifer (who was in the loop due to Asmo having a quiet conversation with him during the race) and Asmo’s help, Levi and MC were able to have some privacy.

Once everyone’s out of the room, MC moves from their spot on the floor and straddles Levi’s lap, which causes Levi to turn red and begin stuttering. MC moves Levi’s fringe out of his eyes and tells him how hot Levi was, winning so many times. Before Levi can reply, MC leans in and kisses him. Unsurprisingly, Levi’s shy at first, because he’s scared that MC’s going to pull away in disgust or that he’s going to wake up and find out that all of this was a dream; however, when neither one of those things happens, Levi gets more bold as he gains confidence. This slow, sensuous make-out session eventually leads to MC blowing him in his gaming chair, and after that evening Levi starts treating MC nicely (for some totally unknown reason (ha ha)). There is not a second sexual encounter, but Levi’s perfectly content with the one. All he needs MC to do is to hang out with him and watch anime and/or play video games.

Levi was excited when he found out that MC knew Julian and Asra, because that meant that he could invite the three of them to his room and know that they genuinely wanted to be there. Sure, Henry 2.0 is a nice enough friend, but Levi comes to discover that having human friends is just as good as having an animal companion.

Satan: MC’s (kind of) ex-turned-best-friend. MC first had their eyes on Satan when they entered his room for the first time and saw the sheer volume of books he had in his possession. MC’s crush on Satan grew when he was a guest speaker in their curses and hexes class. To put it simply, MC found Satan’s intelligence incredibly sexy. Similarly, when Satan was tasked with proofreading MC’s Devildom Literature essay, he discovered that the quality of writing was as good as his, that the points MC made in the essay were intelligent and pertinent to the topic of their essay, and that they had no grammatical, spelling, or formatting mistakes, he nearly busted a nut right there in the classroom.

MC and Satan’s romantic relationship blossomed after the incident that occurred between MC and Lucifer in the underground tomb, and the pairing was (surprisingly) a healthy one. Satan looked out for MC and defended them whenever Lucifer was criticizing them (both in front of MC and behind their back), and MC helped Satan to not only discover his own identity outside of being Lucifer’s spawn and the Avatar of Wrath, but to accept the parts of him that didn’t fit into either one of those titles. While the sex wasn’t the type to be described in erotica, it was definitely full of love from both parties.

Satan and MC broke up on good terms a couple days after Lucifer mended MC’s hand. Due to the fourth demon brother’s relationship with Asmo, he knew that, even though MC did love Satan and enjoyed being in a romantic relationship with him, their heart truly belonged to Lucifer. While the old Satan would have hated MC (for falling for Lucifer) and Lucifer (for taking MC away from him), the ‘new’ Satan was at peace with the whole thing. If there was anyone that he would want to see MC happy with (that wasn’t him), it was Lucifer. Satan knew that, once the foundation was laid, Lucifer would care for MC just as deeply as he did. Plus, it would be weird for MC to continue dating him when they’re trying to start a relationship with someone who’s technically his dad.

Satan and MC can usually be found in a quiet corner of RAD or the House, studying, reading, writing, and/or debating (depending on the day). They enjoy each other’s company, and they’re able to bond over their love of learning and books. When the demon brothers were under the influence of the Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup and MC had to give each of them an order in order to them to snap out of it, MC had Satan kiss them on the cheek, figuring that it was intimate enough to break the spell the syrup had caused without creating an emotional mess.

Satan’s one of the few people in the Devildom that gets along with all three of the Vesuvian men, which is a huge relief for MC. MC finds the notebooks Satan has that document tales that he’s heard Julian, Asra, and Lucio told, and after skimming through the notes that the Avatar of Wrath has written in the margins, MC concludes that Satan has a crush on the three men. With Satan’s permission (for MC would have kept their mouth shut about the whole thing if Satan didn’t want the Vesuvian men to know that he has a crush on them), MC tells Asra, Lucio, and Julian about Satan’s feelings. 

Bonus: Lucio’s the most surprised out of the three of them, for he had no idea that the most quiet demon brother felt that way about him. Unfortunately for Satan, Lucio does not feel the same. Julian’s flattered by Satan’s crush, and unlike Lucio, the plague doctor allows Satan to kiss him. However, once Julian and Satan pull away, Satan realizes that he has more feelings towards the idea of Julian and what Julian represents than Julian himself. And then there’s Asra. If Solomon and Lucio were the first Devildom/Vesuvia pairing to hook up, Asra and Satan are the second (although they might just become the first Devildom/Vesuvian couple). It’s almost like they needed MC’s permission in order to do anything sexual with each other...

Asmo: MC’s friend and the only brother they have not hooked up with. It always amazes people to find out that the Avatar of Lust hasn’t made any actual sexual advances towards MC, but it is indeed the truth. Sure, Asmo may say dirty things to MC, and he has given them a kiss or two on the lips, but he doesn’t feel the need to go further than that. Asmo’s perhaps the most sensitive when it comes to picking up his sin in other people, and so whenever MC feels turned on by something or someone, the fifth-eldest demon brother takes note. 

The main thing that Asmo does for MC, besides inviting them to spa days and fancy events/parties/networking opportunities, is give them advice on their love life. Since MC is so nice to him throughout their Devildom stay, Asmo wants to return the favor, and he loves helping people, especially when it comes to romance. He was the one that got MC and Satan to sit down together and reveal their feelings for each other after the underground tomb incident, and he also acted like a mediator for Lucifer and MC, ultimately encouraging them to get over their nervousness and start going out with each other (once the situation with Belphie was resolved).

Upon finding out that MC knew the Vesuvian men, Asmo had a lot of questions. Is Julian straight? (no) Am I Julian’s type? (I don’t know) Could MC please ask Julian if I’m his type? (couldn’t you ask him yourself?) How about Asra? (he’s definitely not straight) Has MC witnessed the way Asra acts around me? (very flirty) Is he like that with everyone? (no) Does MC think that Asra’s trying to fuck me? (again, why don’t you ask him?) Is Lucio gay? (no, but he isn’t straight, either; not a whole lot of people in Vesuvia are) Does that mean that MC isn’t straight? (that would be correct) What’s the deal between Asra and Julian? (I believe they were lovers while I was here in the Devildom and they thought that I was dead) How was their relationship? (Toxic; Asra took advantage of Julian) Would Asra do that to me? (I don’t think so; he’s in a healthier place mentally) What about Asra and Lucio? (Lucio took Asra’s parents away from him during his dealings with the Devil) Diavolo?! (No, not Diavolo; a Major Arcana called the Devil)

Beel: MC’s friend with eventual benefits. Contrary to the popular belief that Beel is a giant meathead, he’s actually quite smart. Sure, he may not get the best grades in school, but if someone starts a philosophical conversation with him, he’s not only able to follow along but offer intelligent insights of his own. Some of this knowledge is due to the amount of time he spends with Belphie and (by proxy) Satan, but a lot of it is thanks to research he’s managed to do between eating, doing homework, and playing sports/working out. Philosophy interests the Avatar of Gluttony, particularly when it comes to that practiced in the human world. This is what ultimately piques MC’s interest in Beel, although his looks and offers of sharing and trying new food certainly doesn’t ruin things.

For a while, MC and Beel were perfectly content with being friends. But then the second aphrodisiac incident happened. The first was when the brothers ingested the Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup; the second (which is this writer’s headcanon) is when MC accidentally drinks one of Asmo’s beverages that happened to have an ingredient that made the average human consumer very, very horny (it was an honest mistake, really; how was MC supposed to know that a Devildom version of their favorite smoothie would have that kind of an effect on them?) Beel was the only one home with MC when the aphrodisiac started to affect them, and so he was the one they had to go to in order to get some kind of relief. And he did exactly that.

You see, another not-so-well-known fact about Beel (unless one happens to asks Asmo about it) is that he loves the taste of cum. It doesn’t matter where it comes from (both from an anatomical and racial (angel/demon/human) standpoint); the moment it hits his tongue, Beel’s going to consume as much of it as he possibly can. To put it simply, the Avatar of Gluttony’s ability to suck dick and eat pussy rivals Asmo (because of his sin) and Lucifer’s (because he’s the eldest). He can go for hours if one allows him to do so. For this reason, MC and Beel’s relationship turns sexual, although there’s a bit of a mental hang up for Beel when it comes to MC reciprocating. It’s not that MC’s not willing to return the favor; Beel just feels like the point of that part of their relationship is for him to give them pleasure.

Outside of the sexual context, Beel and MC can often be found in the twins’ room, the attic, the kitchen, the roof of the House, or RAD’s gym. The roof and gym are the only two places where the two of them can get some alone time, because Belphie frequently tags along when they hang out in the other places; the roof is where a lot of Beel and MC’s conversations about philosophy happen, and the gym is where they work out together (or at least at the same time, as a human is far too weak to do Beel’s workout). They’re not the closest pairing, but both of them like each other nevertheless.

The fact that MC knew the Vesuvian men didn’t quite register in Beel’s brain. Mainly, it didn’t make that much of a difference to him whether MC led two lives or not; he was just happy to be connected with MC. That is, until Julian starts telling him that he should let MC give him a blowjob at least once. The plague doctor doesn’t completely understand that Beel doesn’t feel the need to have MC do that for him. The sixth-born gets plenty of pleasure from MC’s pleasure, and that’s enough for him.

Belphie: MC’s side man. MC was initially hesitant to get close to Belphie after the incident in which he killed (an alternate version of) them, but when they saw that everyone else (minus Beel) was ignoring Belphie’s existence, their pity drove them to have at least one conversation with the Avatar of Sloth. Belphie caught on to MC’s pity pretty quickly during that conversation, but he liked the fact that someone besides his twin gave a shit about him, even if it’s the last person he would have expected to care.

One conversation turned into two, which eventually turned to them meeting in the planetarium at least once a week to look at the stars and talk about all kinds of things. The longer they meet, the more chemistry develops between them; this chemistry culminates one evening when, as MC was talking about an annoying demon in one of their classes, Belphie leans in and kisses them. This leads to a slow, sensuous make-out session that leaves both of them out of breath and a bit dizzy (but in a good way).

Belphie’s sexual nature is subdued but full of passion, and he knows exactly how to make MC melt under his touch pretty much from the get-go. If the walls of the planetarium could talk, it would reveal that MC and Belphie have fucked in just about every corner of the room. Sure, they still talk about life, but a good chuck of their time spent is devoted to sexual activities. One could say that their relationship evolves similarly to that depicted in “Beauty and the Beast”.

Belphie really doesn’t give a shit about MC having another life in Vesuvia, because sometimes it means having extra company (that isn’t Beel). Julian and Asra sometimes join MC and the Avatar of Sloth in the planetarium (99% of the time, it’s to simply talk, but there was an incident when Belphie, Julian, and Asra all took turns making out with MC, which made for a very interesting evening), and Lucio and Belphie’s occasional nap pile finds itself a third member in MC. 

[luvteez]

bassists do it deeper

pairing: yunho x genderneutral!reader genre + tags: smut, band au | kink discovery, exhibitionism, a brief segment of semi-public sex, hand kink, size kink, yunho monster cock bc this deserves a tag, power play, switch dynamics (i think??), dom!yunho pulls through in the end, unprotected sex wc: 6.3k

note: big thanks to my fav babie @lustjoong​ for motivating me to combine the two ideas i had for the prompt into one and motivating me to finish this!! here’s my take on the unspoken obligatory yunho size kink fic every ateez smut writer should have written once but make him a bassist. also, the band au to this pwp is literally just there as an excuse to make yeosang the lead singer of the band bc if kq won’t give yeosang lines, i will 

A lot can happen throughout a single weekend, as your English professor suddenly quitting her job, your brother Yeosang almost burning down the kitchen from deep frying an egg, an influx of voicemails in your inbox all sent from Wooyoung, as well as Yeosang’s punk rock band losing a member. It’s a lot to process when all you’ve done is stay the night at Yuqi’s, even harder so when Wooyoung keeps repeating every five seconds that Seonghwa quit the band. (”Why did it have to be Seonghwa who left Stereowave? He was the hottest one!”)

That being said, you expected to come home to a beyond grumpy Yeosang who was trying to find a replacement asap. A band without a bassist sounds empty, and while Stereowave has garnered a big enough fanbase over the years that wouldn’t mind the band continuing as a trio, it just feels wrong. Besides, branding a group consisting of Yeosang the frontman, San the guitarist, Mingi the drummer, and nobody covering the bassist position a band doesn’t sit right.

You were prepared for the worst; a messy kitchen, Yeosang walking around in clothes he wore for five days straight, possibly the outbreak of World War III depending on how shitty he’s feeling. But instead, you find the kitchen exceptionally clean and Yeosang acting as if nothing ever happened.

“Can you help set up the camera? The guys and I wanna film a new song.”

“Uh, sure,” you answer irritatedly. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about finding a replacement for Seonghwa though?”

“Oh, we already have a new bassist,” he waves off casually, “What are you gaping at? Shut that jaw of yours before flies fly into your nasty mouth.”

“First of all, rude.” Yeosang rolls his eyes at that comment. For a split second, you’re contemplating letting him figure out on his own how to use the camera because he’s the walking embodiment of a technology illiterate, but your curiosity about the new band member is bigger. “But how did you manage to find a new replacement so fast? It’s been like, what, a day since Seonghwa left?”

Yeosang sighs. “He’s been thinking of quitting for weeks now, so I had enough time to look for a new bassist. It’s not that big of a deal anyway.”

And this is exactly why you should never get dicked down by your bandmate several times in a month, you think to yourself. Seonghwa and Yeosang thought they were slick, but everyone figured they were more than friends. Needless to say, it was only a matter of time until the strain of their relationship wreaked havoc within the band.

“So,” you say as you two walk to the makeshift studio in the basement, “Is the new guy good? What’s his name?”

The change of topic makes Yeosang relax visibly. There’s a sheepish smile on his face and he replies, “You’ll see.”

You arch a brow. For some reason, that doesn’t settle comfortably in your gut. Then there’s the fact that Yeosang is slightly skipping, and that makes you more concerned than relieved. Because Yeosang barely skips, only when he’s being petty and is planning on pranking somebody. (Most of the time, it’s San.)

The faint vibrations of drums and guitars ring in your ears before you step a foot into the basement. Mingi is the first to acknowledge your presence, immediately dampening the cymbals before waving at you. That causes the other two guys to stop playing their instruments and turn their heads around. You greet San like you normally do, and when your eyes flit to the new addition, all brightness drops from your face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Yunho cocks his head to the side almost tauntingly, eyes challenging. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, though more with the intention of saying hah you thought you’d never see me again. “Hello to you too, honey. Looks like fate brought us together once more, eh?”

You blink multiple times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. To your dismay, they sure aren’t. It really is Yunho standing right next to an utterly confused San, and the bass in his hands just confirms it furthermore.

“Since when do you play an instrument?” you gawk. There’s no fucking way he could’ve had time to pick up music, not when his schedule was already jammed with basketball training and student council activities. Then again, that was his schedule in middle school.

“Since I was fifteen,” he drawls, unaffected by your outburst. “Any other questions, honey? Preferably something along the lines of how have you been? I expected a warmer welcome from you, not gonna lie.”

“What does Yeosang even see in you?” you splutter instead, disgust prevalent in your voice.

“Talent. Believe it or not.”

“Guys, no fighting,” Yeosang warns, but you’re too busy sending Yunho daggers and every pg rated curse under the sun your brain can wrack up.

Meanwhile, San shifts his weight on one leg awkwardly and asks in the background as your verbal dispute continues, “Are they exes or something?”

“Nah, just childhood enemies,” Mingi mumbles, clearly used to your interactions to the point where he’s becoming bored of it. He’s heard all the profanities too many times coming out from the same mouth, hence why he isn’t as disturbed as San is.

“Listen up, you piec—“ 

“(y/n), the camera. Help your older brother out, will ya?” Yeosang cuts you off urgently, the warning tone in his words hard to miss.

“Yeah, help your brother out, shorty,” Yunho snickers. Appalled by his blatant shamelessness, you scowl.

“I’m not that short—!”

“Still shorter than I am, shorty. Or do you prefer honey?”

World War III would’ve broken out right then and there if it weren’t for Yeosang’s death glare — you know, the look he has etched on his face whenever he means business and is willing to go so far and expose all of the nasty mishaps you’ve done in middle school, which is definitely something that should never see the light of day.

“I prefer neither,” you mutter after weighing the gravity of Yeosang’s wrath, avoiding any eyes before you set up the camera. Luckily, nobody further comments on that and eventually, everybody resumes practicing their parts of the songs.

Just in time as Mingi takes another short break to chug his water down, you stumble across a problem. “Uh, Yeosang? You should buy a new camera. This is still usable, but you might have to reset every ten minutes or so.”

A groan leaves him, followed by a shrill guitar riff, and you can see that he’d prefer death over spending money for a new one. “Can’t you just stay here during practice and reset it? You also get to hear some new tracks of the upcoming EP!” That fucker, he’s just too lazy to run forward and press a button every few minutes.

“I have to be on standby for the Block B ticket sale,” you lie. Technically, it’s not really a lie because you do plan on going to the Block B concert with Wooyoung, but 1) the ticket sale isn’t even today and 2) it’s always Wooyoung who buys the tickets. Yeosang doesn’t need to know that though. Any excuse is better than having to sit through practice and see if Yunho is as good as he claims.

Seems like Yeosang desperately doesn’t want to keep running back and forth to reset the camera as he suddenly says, “You can do it here too.” You would argue that the garage has its separate WiFi and only the band members have access to it, but then: “You can use my laptop instead.”

And letting you use his laptop is something he never does. You failed to submit an assignment in time because your own laptop broke down and he didn’t let you borrow his computer for even that.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. Yeosang thanks you with a smile so obnoxiously sweet it makes you gag. When all he gets in return from you is the middle finger, his demeanor drops and he mutters something inaudible under his breath, pointing to the small table at the side where all their phones and laptops are lying before he goes back to the others.

Once all four of them are in position and ready to play, you press the record button before flipping yourself onto the old patchwork couch Yeosang bought at a garage sale for only thirty quid a few years back. To your surprise, Yeosang’s MacBook is already unlocked, the default wallpaper of mountains and northern lights quite jarring to your eyes.

When given the rare chance to have unlimited access to your sibling’s devices, it’s self-explanatory what to do. You either a) go through all of their accounts and find as much dirt as possible about them that serves as good material for future blackmail purposes or b) sign them up to as many online subscriptions as possible that will make them go crazy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on Yeosang because 1) he doesn’t mind online subscriptions, and 2) he never checks his email account, hence why his inbox is filled with over 2000 mails, a third of them most likely unopened. On top of that, his MacBook is strictly meant for work, so if you really wanted to find out his most embarrassing secrets, your only shot is his phone.

That being said, you’re left with option c) which is checking out Block B’s concert merch since that’s the only sensible thing you can do right now. Forget productivity; that isn’t doable when Yeosang’s deep timbre is blaring in your ears along with the instruments. To be honest, you really enjoy Stereowave’s music and that’s on their music, not because your brother is the lead singer. You’ve enjoyed each of their performances and perhaps you’ve been indulging in the privilege of hearing their new songs first.

But now that Yunho’s involved, suddenly the prospect of having a new favorite band sounds tempting. What was Yuqi’s favorite band again? Day6? You should take a closer look at their discography.

As much as you want to mute the sound, from San’s riffs to Mingi’s drum solo, you fail to do so. One moment you’re opening the search browser, and in the next, your eyes are set on the group. They’re practicing like they usually do; fun etched on their faces as they lose themselves in the music. Yeosang is singing as if he was performing in front of a million viewers while San improvises a solo on a whim. Mingi messes up the beat for a split second after failing to catch his stick and somehow, your eyes have zoomed in on Yunho. It doesn’t take you five seconds to realize:

Yunho is good.

While he might not seem as fired up as the other three, he’s visibly relaxed. Just like Seonghwa, he plays smoothly and isn’t overpowered by the others, but he seems to have an easier time gliding his fingers across the fingerboard. The bassline is easy to filter out, not the generic pattern you can find in every second pop song, yet still compliments the other instruments.

He can play, fair game. However, that’s the least of your worries. You’re more attentive to the ratio of his hands to the bass. His hands are larger than Seonghwa’s by far, no doubt. That makes sense given his height, maybe an inch taller than Mingi. But Mingi doesn’t have that big hands. Doesn’t that mean that Yunho’s body is disproportional?

Before you know it, you drag your gaze from his shoes up to his legs and stop at his hands briefly, only to proceed upwards until you see the cocky smirk and amused eyes directed at you. All clogs in your brain come to a stillstand and despite that, that’s when you realize you’ve been 1) enjoying his music, 2) checking him out, and 3) checking him out and caught red-handed.

It feels as if you were living on the sun instead of on Earth as you burn up in embarrassment. Knowing there’s no way you can deflect what you just did, you quickly turn back to the laptop, the Google search bar staring back at you.

You’re about to type in something when the search history pops up, catching your eyes. A gasp leaves you but it goes under the music, everyone too immersed in their own thing to notice the prevalent horror settling on your face.

exhibitionism

getting off in public

best crowded places to have sex and get away with it

You blink, thinking that your sleep deprivation got the worst out of you and that you’ve finally reached the stage where you start hallucinating. Except, you know you’re not hallucinating. After going through the words again and again, you know that you’re really not fucking hallucinating and that your nonexistent sleep cycle isn’t as bad as Yuqi makes it out to be.

When you said you wanted to dig up dirt on your brother, you didn’t mean it in the form of his kinks. Money can’t buy everything, but how you wish it could so you could unsee that shocking discovery.

Since this is Yeosang’s work computer and he’s signed into his Google account, he must make use of the drive to save a copy of his ideas. It probably won’t amount to anything since he’s the walking embodiment of staying unbothered, but writing him a note on his docs about how he’s made your life worse by not clearing his search history is better than staying silent.

You click on the little icon on the top right corner, expecting to see Yeosang’s name right above the email address. But then you see Yunho’s name instead, and suddenly everything makes much more sense.

This was never Yeosang’s laptop to begin with.

To say you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. There’s no way someone could have as little self-awareness and leave their laptop unlocked, let alone Yunho out of all people. Then again, the last thing you expected from him was to play the bass and blend well with the rest of the band as if he’s always been the bassist of Stereowave and not the newly found replacement.

This is absolutely bonkers. But:

You could have fun with it. Maybe it’s for the better that money can’t buy everything.

Besides dozens of articles about semi-public sex and even a blogpost titled Shagging in Broad Daylight for Dummies, his search history of the last 24 hours consists of many forum links discussing the morality of exhibitionism, conspiracy theories, and hand care guides. You wheeze when you see the private playlist he saved on his YouTube account; a collection of videos about filing your nails properly and the best hand cream brands for dry skin.

Yeosang calls in for a break, and everyone’s grateful for it. San lets out a relieved noise as he places his guitar on the stand before catching the water bottle Mingi chucks at him.

“My arms are beat,” Mingi complains.

San sends him an incredulous look and snorts, “All you do is bang! crash! ppang! while my throat is fucked! And so are my legs!”

“Not my fault if you keep doing your high pitched oows! while jumping around like a— like a cricket!”

“A cricket? Are you serious?”

“I’m tired, okay!”

“Then that means we should call it a day and go home and rest, right?”

“Choi San, I think you’re onto something.”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang deadpans, causing the bickering duo to pout in sync. “We have lots to do especially since Yunho’s now part of the band.” When all he’s met with is an attempt of cute puppy eyes that rather looks like a bad rendition of any horror movie featuring creepy dolls, Yeosang sighs, “I ordered chicken for dinner and yes, it’s on me.”

In an instant, Mingi and San’s faces brighten up and they’re celebrating as if they won a free cruise to the Bahamas. They don’t hesitate to envelop Yeosang in a bear hug, crushing the life out of him. A chuckle escapes you at the sight of your brother wringing for his sanity. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth those three guys are the same three guys who perform in abandoned warehouses, jamming out their punk rock songs while looking all edgy (in a cool way that has at least half of their fans thirsting after them).

Meanwhile, Yunho drops himself on the other end of the couch. Propping his right leg on the coffee table in front, he digs around in his pockets before pulling something out.

“Since when do you file your nails?” You pointedly raise a brow at him. Although your extensive research on his browser history already answered that question, you ask him just for the sake of it.

“Hand care is important, shorty,” Yunho replies, keeping his eyes trained on his fingers as he works the file around a nail. “If Kageyama Tobio files his nails, I can too. But enough with the small talk, what do you want?”

“I didn’t peg you as an exhibitionist.”

His hand stops moving. Yunho looks up at you, irritation written all over his features. “Because I file my nails...? A bold assumption, honey.”

There’s a reason why Yunho has always gotten away with pretty much everything. He’s a good actor who’s able to feign innocence at any time. His posture is relaxed, voice genuinely sounding flabbergasted that not even your shit-eating grin can throw him off guard.

You can’t, but your proof will do the job.

“I never said it’s because of your hand fixation.” You turn the laptop screen his way and once his eyes flicker on it and decipher the words, his face falls. Gone is the faux-confusion; as all color drains from him, his eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Is it really a bold assumption now, honey?”

Yunho inhales sharply when you scoot closer to him and put a firm hand on his left leg, his laptop now closed and long forgotten. Your fingers are placed too high for it to be friendly, skimming lightly on the inside of his thigh. Yeosang and the others are busy minding their own business but the chance of getting caught in the act is still there. The simple realization has adrenaline running a hundred miles an hour in your veins, and with the way Yunho clenches his jaw — a desperate attempt to fight the groan that’s threatening in the back of his throat — you’re not the only one who’s aroused by the setup.

Slowly, your hand inches closer to his growing bulge. Before you can dare yet another experimental squeeze, Yunho’s hand surges forward and holds your wrist in a vice grip.

“Don’t,” he snarls through gritted teeth, but it sounds sadder than it is intimidating when he’s sporting a boner right in front of your eyes.

You cock your head to the side, almost in a mocking demeanor. “You sure? Think about it, it’s a win-win situation. You get to live out your exhibitionist right here in front of your new bandmates, and I get the confirmation that you’re into it. But if you really don’t want to…” you try to retreat your hand but Yunho doesn’t let you budge, hand still enclosed around yours. That won’t do as an answer.

“Which one is it? Say it, Yunho,” you assert, narrowing your eyes. Yunho looks distraught, feverishly biting his lip while he’s internally fighting with himself, but he eventually chokes out a response.

“As long as nobody notices—”

“You either say you want me to touch you or not. I don’t want any roundabout stories.”

“Touch me,” he whispers defeatedly and the grip on your hand disappears completely. “But I swear to God if anyone realizes what you’re doing— hhnh—!” he cuts himself off with a low moan when you cup him over the material of his jeans.

“Yes yes, I get it. I don’t need Yeosang to know about this,” you dismiss. “And oh wow, you’re getting hard fast when I’m just touching you over your pants.”

“Just get to it.”

The snappish attitude causes you to stop dead in your tracks. “You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do? I can be mean too, y’know,” you start nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the way your heart is shaking in your ribcage. The power you suddenly hold is exhilarating. “I could just leave you like this, and then you’d have to try to cover your situation down there while practice goes on. How would the others react if they only knew your dick is hard? Probably won’t take them too long to find out since standing for a long time can be tiring, hm?”

Yunho’s head lolls back in response as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing is uneven and the resulting moan that follows suit makes you smirk. You lightly smack the inside of his thigh, causing another wave of arousal to rupture in him. He chokes out a hushed ‘f-fuck’ and at this point, the constriction around his cock must be bordering painful.

“Who would’ve thought that the big bad Jeong Yunho is actually a submissive bitch who’s hungry for attention?” you ask gleefully, delivering another slap before stroking the area. “Who would’ve fucking thought you were a sub?”

“I-I’m not— shit, s-stop that, hngh— a fucking sub.”

“Yeah yeah, say that to yourself.” You rip your gaze away from Yunho’s flushed face to check if the coast is clear before targeting his fisted hands. He stiffens when you pry his hand open and bring three digits to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give kitten licks to his fingertips before pushing them into your mouth. You hum, suck, swirl your tongue around his fingers, giggling when all he does is stare at you wordlessly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “See? Not even once have you put up a fight.”

That seems to snap him out of his daze. In an instant, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

“Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You snicker, seeing through his bluff. “Wow, I’m so scared. What do you wanna do? Leave practice right now? Drag me to my room and pound me into the mattress?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You could never, sub.”

Whatever strands of self-control were still residing in Yunho have turned to dust by now. One moment he’s towering over you in full height, looking down on your sitting form in bitter distaste, and in the next, he’s dragging you out of the basement, unaffected by the sudden silence and Yeosang, Mingi and San’s confused expressions.

Once you’re in the living room, Yunho wastes no time crowding you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongues, but it leaves you hot and lightheaded and aching for more. Yunho knows no limits and snakes one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, the other hand fisting your hair. He tugs harshly and the sharp sting sends all your nerves into a frenzy.

“Bedroom. Now.” The sudden huskiness in his tone catches you off guard and you wonder when his voice has ever sounded so rough. You moan into the kiss, fisting his shirt as you stumble your way to your bedroom.

Yunho pins you against the door once you’re in your bedroom. His lips are addictive, just like the groans he slips in kisses and his hands roaming your body. He gets rid of your clothes until you’re left in your underwear, then forces a knee between your legs to keep them from closing. Your eyes roll back at the friction, growing needier and hotter when he presses his thigh against you harder. 

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. There’s no trace of inhibitions left in him as he watches you like a predator. With horror, you realize that the tables have turned, and when he easily locks both of your wrists above your head with one hand only, that’s when you know you’re undisputedly powerless against him.

“Who’s the sub now?” he pants, eyes sparkling with glee.

“Still y-you.” The response sounds pathetic to your own ears, but you have too big of an ego to admit it out loud. Yunho doesn’t buy it either if his quirked brow wasn’t telling enough.

“Still in denial, honey? I see. Guess I’ll have to do more then.” His free hand reaches down to tug on the waistband of your underwear, only to let it snap against your skin. The slight sting is enough to render your knees into mush and set fog into your vision. He does it again, and then he actually tugs the fabric down and you finally grab his motives.

“You’re bluffing— y-you wouldn’t put y-your fingers,” you ramble, hyperaware about how dangerously close his fingers are. Just when you think he’s about to shove a digit in, he pulls away completely.

“You know, you keep talking about my hands. It’s always my hands this, my hands that,” Yunho says casually, giving his nails a quick glance before meeting your eyes. “Rather than me having a hand fixation, it’s you who has a thing for hands. My hands specifically.”

You don’t like how every word is true. You don’t want to acknowledge that he’s correct. Verbally, because your body is moving on its own and has betrayed you long ago.

Yunho taps on your bottom lip and you comply reluctantly, letting him shove the same three fingers you sucked before. Mumbling unintelligible words under his breath, he watches intently as you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut when he slowly moves them in and out of your mouth. A whine escapes you when he pulls them out for good, soaked wet with your spit.

“Tell me.” Yunho grins, “Tell me what you like about them. Or else I’ll leave you hanging.” He’s not lying and you know it. The look he sends you is enough proof that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you high and dry.

You don’t like how he’s stringing you on like a rag doll. You don’t like how he’s stripping you off your dignity step by step. Strangely enough, you feel yourself leaking and wanting nothing but his pretty long fingers inside of you.

“I like how they, agh I— I l-like how—” you stutter, losing all levels of rationality when he suddenly circles around your entrance. Yunho urges you to continue and it takes up all of your brainpower to pick up where you left off, “—they’re so long and big and pretty—”

“So you have a size kink.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Now that, that’s something he shouldn’t have deduced. “W-wha— I don’t!”

“Seems to me that you have one though. You kept stressing how big and bad and tall I was after all.” You stiffen. Did you? Did you really? You don’t recall saying it that many times but it's hard to think straight when Yunho still has your wrists above your head and is looking down at you in a downright patronizing way. It leaves you trembling pitifully, feeling called out and feeling so, so small.

He really wants you to hit your lowest peak because he doesn’t stop there. “Who’s the real sub here? Is it really me? Or is it you who likes feeling so short, small, tiny.” His smirk widens when your breath hitches ever so slightly. “I fucking knew it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you bark back, but to no avail. Your credibility has diminished the moment he caught up to your kinks.

“Say whatever you want but that won’t change the fact that you’re tiny baby,” he pauses, takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he’s giving you a thorough once-over and then enunciates the next syllables with such clarity that forces time to stop, “My tiny, helpless baby.”

The pet name breaks you. It’s the final trigger that takes all your inhibitions away and the pathetic size of an ego that was left in your stubborn head.

“Please,” your voice cracks but that’s the least of your worries. You can’t move, can’t talk back, and won’t get anything in return. Yunho is right in front of you, finding satisfaction in your internal destruction and yet, after all of the things he’s slaughtered you to, he won’t give you anything in return.

“Just a little bit more, baby. I’ll give you what you want if you repeat after me; I’m your—”

“I’m your tiny, helpless baby who desperately wants you to fuck me.” Yunho is mildly taken aback that you were still able to think and get it right before he even finished his sentence. “Now get on to it, Yunho. Please.”

You’re sniffling at this point, begging for any kind of stimulation that shoots you to the stars. You’re fucking sniffling, and that’s all it takes for Yunho to manhandle you on the bed. A gasp escapes you, not expecting this turn of events at all. It all happens in a flash and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, face buried in the pillow.

“Yunho, I t-thought y-you’d fuck me,” you complain, glancing behind to see what’s taking him so long. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Patience, baby,” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. You rub your legs together to ease the tension, but you can’t really say you’re not enjoying the show. Yunho’s lean, slightly defined, and once he’s only left in his underwear, you swallow heavily. There’s a large, dark patch on the fabric and the bulge seems more prominent than before.

If your mouth was only watering, you’re drooling by now. Yunho takes off his boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, tip red and oozing precum. Just like the rest of him, he’s abnormally huge.

You have two thoughts. One: Fuck, you want him. Now. Two:

“That’s never going to fit inside of me.”

“Oh it will,” he says with such confidence it gives you shivers. “I’ll pound you into the mattress and you’ll take it all.”

He grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him before positioning himself right behind you. “W-wait!” you cry, heart suddenly feeling heavy in your chest, “D-don’t just put it in without prep— o-oh, hnngh—” your body feels like jelly when Yunho presses two spit-coated fingers past your entrance, stretching you out with finesse.

“I’m not that heartless,” he chuckles amusedly, right at the same time he curls his digits right against your sweet spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. “You’re so small you wouldn’t be able to take an inch without prep.”

You only whine into the pillow, arching your back as he continues his ministrations. Once Yunho deems you stretched out enough, he retreats his fingers and replaces them immediately with his cock.

The difference is like night and day. It’s like his fingers didn’t amount to anything compared to this. The high-pitched cry that escapes you is loud as you grasp onto the pillow for dear life.

“How can you be so big?” you pant. There’s no way he’s past four inches deep inside of you. You’re far from being filled, but your walls are already clenching hard around him.

“Bassists do it deeper for a reason.” The innuendo is tacky but in your current headspace, it sounds like the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Yunho stills his hips, letting you get used to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh—” he chuckles at your inability to form coherent words, let alone thoughts. “So big.”

“You’ll get used to it, honey.” He leans forward to pet your hair. “Tell me when I can move,” he adds gently, and you swear you could melt right then.

It takes you a moment to get your breathing steady, and then he pushes more of his length inside. Whimpering, you writhe beneath him, feeling as if you’re being torn apart. Meanwhile, he’s breathing hard through his nose, trying his damn hardest to go as slow as possible. At a certain point, Yunho stops pressing for more and pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back forward. It starts out slowly, but he gradually picks up the pace and you lose yourself into him.

“Faster,” you moan, bending your back for an even deeper angle. “Hnngh, so full. Want m-more.”

“You were right, you can’t take me to the hilt.” Yunho readjusts his grip on his hips and you know that bruises are going to last until the end of the week. “God, you’re so fucking small that you can’t take me to the fucking hilt.”

Your vision turns foggy once the meaning gets through you. Now that he’s saying it, how much of his cock is inside of you? Half of it? A third? He’s stretching you out so well, filling you up so impossibly deep and that wasn’t even his everything?

“That’s not— want more of you, all of you,” you stammer, not realizing what you’re even saying. “Baby wants all of you.” God, you’re so drunk and desperate for his cock that you can’t refer yourself in the first person anymore.

Yunho reacts just as perplexed, eyes widening. His hips still once more, and though you’d want to shout at him to keep on moving, you don’t find the energy to move your head, or even lift a finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he growls, pulling out of you completely. Not even a second later, he flips you around on your back so that you’re facing him dead in the eye, and then he pushes back in. The new position has you gurgling on broken words as your arms flail around for dear life.

Yunho throws a leg over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle. You don’t know if he’s actually giving you more if he’s managed to force more of him into you. All you register is the messy squelch of liquids and your moans bouncing off the walls. You can’t even see properly, everything a blur and a mix of different colors.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, sensing your demise nearing closer and closer.

“Then cum,” Yunho orders in between groans, then adds in a louder voice, “You hear that baby? Cum and make a mess out of yourself.”

Your orgasm crashes onto you in a big singular wave as you tremble under his frame, walls clenching around him tightly. His name leaves your mouth like a mantra as you continue to convulse. Yunho pulls out moments later, just to spurt white on your abdomen. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead while he jerks himself dry.

It’s a miracle that Yunho hasn’t toppled on you once he slowly comes down from his high. The fog in your vision clears up gradually, but your limbs are as good as worthless. You won’t be able to move freely for a good day or two.

As you continue to blink at the ceiling, only finding the energy to breathe, Yunho grabs the box of tissues from your nightstand and wipes himself off before doing the same to you. His touch is gentle unlike before, and you’d thank him if your vocal cords were still functioning.

You’re about to drift to sleep until he suddenly leans down and pecks your lips. In an instant, you narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What was that for?”

“You had some cum on your lip. I wanted to taste too.” Yunho smiles cheekily and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, then grimaces. “It tastes... yikes.”

He cleans you up in silence before plopping onto the bed right next to you. No words are exchanged up until you say, “Yeosang is going to kill you.”

“He can’t afford to kill me. He needs me for the band,” he muses.

“He’ll still kill you.”

“I appreciate the concern, honey.”

“Just scram back to practice.”

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom first?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Oh really?”

“... Yunho, help me on my legs and then scram back to practice.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, the guys are waiting for their bandmate to come back so they can finally finish practice and then eat chicken.

“You sure (y/n) and Yunho are only childhood enemies? They’ve been going at it like rabbits if he isn’t back here yet!” San exclaims, throwing his arms up for dramatic effect.

Mingi can’t counter that because San has a point, so he whips his head to Yeosang. “Dude, you sure they’re not in a relationship? They have to be at least fuckbuddies! Or fuckrivals? Fuckenemies? Or…”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Yeosang says blankly, looking like he’s about to bang his head against the wall because he sure won’t walk into your room and curse his eyes for the rest of his life. Damnit, all he wants is to practice and get the band together; their next gig is only a few weeks away. “In fact, I want to unsee what I just saw and unhear what you just said.”

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Smith & Smith

There are a few things everyone knows at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc.

The coffee bagels are inedible, Adler will fake-fire someone on your first day, and you do not hit on Dean Smith, Senior VP.

(Not that Sam wants to - gross. But apparently it's salient information, because it's the third ever text message Gabriel Milton (HR) sends him. Maybe because he'd just joined as Smith's intern, Sam reasons. Well, to hell with stereotypes. Smith is going to be nothing more than a boss - or mentor, if he'd so be willing; Sam's heard of him, and he's kind of a genius after all. That's it.

Plus, Sam's in love with, and engaged to a nurse thankyouverymuch.)

And in any case, it's not like he'd needed a memo.

Smith is obvious enough.

Obvious, with his packed lunches and secretive screensavers. Obvious, in the way he unfailingly redoes his hair before leaving, cause he's "picking Cas up first" - and with his bright smile on Mondays, because "Cas only has Sundays off".

He grins non-stop, the half hour before lunch, and then spends it holed up in his office entirely - and if Sam returns early from his own break, he can't not catch the unicorn laughs emerging from there, glass walls be damned.

Once, in fact, a package got misdelivered, and Sam returned from lunch to a bouquet on his desk, labelled on a recycled paper card with a pickup line so ridiculous - wordplay on 'honey', in fact - that it almost verified the domesticity singlehandedly.

Dean Smith is married.

There can be absolutely no other explanation.

*

As days pass, Sam's workload increases, but he's learning what he's here to learn and is grateful for it.

He also notices him and Dean grow into a friendship of sorts - finding common ground in football, not liking pineapples on pizza, and having a Navy dad - and just like that, mentions of the latter's wife start coming up more casually.

Nothing unprofessional, or overshared - just a, "you know who eats burgers like no one's business? Cas." When he brings Sam a couple of burgers back after an assignment runs late into his lunch break - or even a, "Cas's brothers are dicks," when Sam goes into his office to submit a report from Sales, and finds him, as he rarely does, texting.

As long as Dean isn't dismissive of the work Sam puts in, and he never is, Sam's fine with it. To be honest, it's kind of refreshing to see a guy be a total goner for his wife. And he is - Sam can tell from his heart eyes, if not the fondness that envelopes his voice whenever he speaks of her.

It makes him happy as well, cause he's worked here about five weeks now, and it's enough to see that Dean deserves to be as happy as 'Cas' makes him.

All things considered, Sam's definitely getting used to it.

Until one friday, when Dean shows up at nine am and declares that Cas will be picking him up today.

"There's a strike at the library."

"I see." Sam returns, eyebrows raised.

"Isn't that ridiculous? Libraries going on a strike?" Dean grins. "It's like, you know, a book-march."

Sam fights the whelming urge to bitchface.

"Stop that." Dean swats at the air. Sam hasn't said anything, so he bites his cheek. "You're basically dying to roll your eyes. Friggin' take my jokes for granted." Sam shakes his head, suppressing a smile. "No, seriously. Go on, do it. Didn't stop Cas either."

At that, Sam breaks.

Mirrors Dean's grin from before he'd put on the mock-offended glare, and Dean soon joins in.

"I'll just save my fantastic sense of humor for later."

"For Cas?"

"Nah, someone who can appreciate it -" Dean cuts himself short. "Hell, who am I kidding? Yeah, for Cas."

Sam grins wider.

"I'll be leaving at five today." Dean informs him, before disappearing into his office. Seeing as the office hours are nine to five in the first place, that isn't off the norm, but since Dean finishes late almost regularly, it's probably worth pointing out.

This way or that - Sam knows he's going to be waiting for it to be five almost as eagerly as Dean.

He's heard so much about this woman. There's almost an air of mystery surrounding her at this point. All the facts Dean's ever dropped are cloaked with something close to fictional, because Sam doesn't know her at all.

And now he's finally going to meet her.

It's not like all he does, the entire day, is think about it. But it does make writing the reports for, and inputting April 2020's data into the server that much more of a fast process - since time flies until it's five.

And then, relatively, decides to stop.

Sam stares at the elevator.

He's done with his day - prepared to leave after Dean does, though definitely not before.

Waiting, he realizes, that he's formed something of a mental image. She's blonde in his imagination - probably a generic 5'5 or 6. Blue-eyed, cause Dean's mentioned that at least twice. And not to be creepy, but he assumes she'd be pretty too, cause his boss isn't exactly what he'd describe ugly.

So without meaning to, Sam's got an eye out for someone who fits the mold.

First man in, at two past five, is short and stocky. Second is Mrs. D'souza, a receptionist on the seventh floor.

Third and fourth are interns.

Fifth is a trenchcoated guy, squarer than Sam, with a wonky tie.

Sam sighs.

It's almost ten past five - and tardiness really isn’t his thing. Or Dean’s, for that matter. Staring intently in the direction of his elevator, he’s about to start getting righteously annoyed on Dean’s behalf when there’s a tap on his shoulder.

Sam swivels in his chair, taken by surprise - and slowly, his eyes widen.

Dean’s arm is slung about the fifth guy’s shoulders, grin directed entirely towards him. And he - Jesus, he - is six feet tall, trenchcoated, and wearing a tentative smile as he looks down at Sam.

Blue eyes complete the picture - plus a five o’clock shadow which never came up - and Sam’s head reels as he finally pieces everything together.

“Dean!” He exclaims, and it must count as a greeting, because it can’t really count as oh-my-god-Cas-is-a-man.

“Hey!” Dean beams. “Figured you should meet Cas.” And turning to Cas, “That’s Sam. My prodigy, basically.”

The heart-eyes have never been more obvious. 

Sam’s an idiot.

He can’t even grin like he’s supposed to - earning himself half an eyeroll form Dean - because he’s trying to figure out how he hadn’t figured it out yet.

“It’s good to meet you, Sam.” Cas says - and the fact that it’s the lowest he’s ever heard a voice go, makes him refocus enough that he can respond.

“You too, Cas.”

Dean’s still beaming, and finally, finally caught up with himself, Sam grins back.

He’s an idiot.

Cas just smiles wider.

(Well, one thing he got right. He’s definitely pretty. But measured against a scale of everything else he got wrong - there’s a long way to go.)

“Okay so,” Dean declares, far more chipper than usual. Someone could just’ve painted smitten across his face, really. “We should go. You probably guessed this but Cas isn’t the biggest fan of where I work.”

“You have a treadmill desk, Dean.”

“And I don't see you complaining about my stamina.” Dean throws back, and their eyes lock in a silent stare - heavy enough, that neither notices Sam looking away as subtly as he can. He’s not really supposed to witness them flirting - misdelivered packages asides.

Thankfully, the stare-off breaks when Cas points out that they were leaving.

And to the backdrop of Dean grumbling about Cas’s hatred for his job, Dean puts on his overcoat - well, he hands Cas his briefcase so he can properly do so, and then Cas just holds onto it - and they say their goodbyes to Sam and take off, walking close enough to brush arms all the way to the elevator.

Once they’re out of sight, Sam slumps in his chair, scrubbing his face with an incredulous laugh. 

Of course Dean Smith is married. And of course, Cas is his husband.

[amaregamesdb]

Jun - July Update

Hello Folks!

I hope you have all been keeping well.

I’ve decided to move to a more Monthly update style as I find I’m spending a lot of time tweaking small things on the site all the time. So It’s harder to do those updates on Tumblr.

I have taken to updating a bit more on Twitter as it’s much easier for me to add a quick photo/comment.

Site Work

Continue working on the submission forms.

Started work on a Developer User Profile - This will allow developers to update their data securely.

Started taking Developer Submissions and Basic Game Submissions.

Migrated the site to a new server so it’s faster!! GOTTA GO FAST.

Continued to clear up old code and make it neater and better.

Got the logged in user to save to the developer taxonomy. It’s still not perfect but it works for now.

DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME! - Because no I can’t just make the developers a post, no they have to be their own terms so they are clickable. I’m still not super happy with it as it currently shows up on the improved Dev form so right now I’m like Hey Dev’s don’t touch this haha. 

Personal

Worked full time (I’m a retail store manager).

Passed my Intro to Programming Course.

Submitted my first assessment for my Front End Developer course and PASSED.

Went into lockdown again - Twice.

Had a minor foot procedure.(I’m fine)

Was in a small car accident. (I’m also fine haha)

Currently working on my second assessment.

Cuddled my cat Melody a lot because she's adorable and it's cold.

Future Site Goals

The big ones that may take longer

Get the search function created and to work how I like.

Create my own User Profile Page that’s user friendly.

Smallish Goals

Have all the forms updated and submit data correctly.

Have developer info and game info only editable by admin team or creator(Dev)

Clean up the Trello Board to get a sense of what is left to do to get the site into a basic launchable model.

Rewrite shortcodes for the site as now I understand them better.

Start putting the site through some load tests and reaching out to more developers when the Dev user is done to add more info to the site before launch. 

Personal Goals

Finish assessment 2 and hopefully 3 in August with the goal of finishing the whole course by the end of October. I will then be taking a break from study over the Christmas period because that is when my work is the busiest.

Sleep, Survive, Kitty Cuddles

ENJOY SPOOKYTIME!!!

Round Up

So yea its been a hectic few months. I’ve been slowly plugging away on the site as much as possible.  As I said I’m doing more random updates on the Twitter as it’s so much easier to be like hey look at this thing I did rather than write out a longer post each time for Tumblr. So if you are keen to see those smaller updates you can follow me there.  Thanks everyone and I hope you are staying safe.

[wiyodreamz]

𝑽𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 [04]

⌜Nari is a college student at Seokhye University. One day she got off on the wrong foot with Seonghwa, throws her coffee on him and curses him out. Later that day she learns about the internship she signed with Hwa Corp. That same day, she learns that the same guy she threw her coffee at, is the CEO of that company! How will things go for Nari if she has a target on her back from that encounter? ⌟ Office AU

01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Contains: fluff, angst, smut, alcohol drinking, cursing, and more as the story goes on.

Tag list: @seonghwaskitten @reeateez

Warnings: another make out session, dani being sort of annoying, yunho interrupting an almost smut scene (yeah these r the warnings)

A/N: it’s been 84 fucking years. And I’m finally back writing this. Also Nari and Seonghwa are in a established relationship in this chapter :)

Things between Nari and Seonghwa have been going smoothly. They’ve been talking to each other more and a relationship has started to spark between them. Nari has managed to even get into the Top 3, since Seonghwa isn’t making it very difficult for her. They even found a new secretary for him to replace Ms.Lee. But Nari is kind of supiscious of her.

Nari was finishing making herself a cup of coffee in the break room, when someone walked in.

“Do you mind making me some tea?” She looked up and saw Seonghwa with a reusable cup.

“Yeah sure” she said as she smiled and made more hot water. “So how are you liking your new assistant?”

“She’s not as fast with her tasks as Ms.Lee, but she gets them done on time at least” he sighed as he crossed his arms.

“Maybe she has to get used to this place first. It may be different from her different job. Give her a month or two and she’ll get the hang of it” she said as she grabbed a tea bag and poured the hot water into his reusable cup. “Anyways here’s your tea.”

“Thank you” he said as he grabbed the cup from her hands, their fingers grazing a little. They stared at each other and Seonghwa started leaning in closer and closer until she felt his breath on her lips, but someone walked in before he could get a chance to kiss her.

“I didn’t expect you two to be in here” Dani said as she walked by the coffee maker to make her a cup of coffee. She then raise en eyebrow at their flushed expressions. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No! I’ll see you around Mr.Park!” Nari said as she bowed at him and left the break room while sipping her coffee.

Seonghwa then bowed towards Dani and left the break room to go back to his office to finish some paperwork.

“There’s something off about them....” Dani said quietly as she looked at the two of them.

Nari was finishing the last of her report that was due this week. She was typing away with her headphones in and someone suddenly pulled them out.

“What the...” she trailed off and turned behind her and saw Yunho.

“After you finish your report, do you want to go get lunch together?” He asked and she nodded.

“Sure, I just need to finish this last sentence and I’m free to go.”

Nari pressed the ‘submit’ button on her report and then grabbed her bag. “Let’s go. I know this really good place we can go eat at.”

The two were now seated in front of each other with a plate of pizza in front of them.

“How’d you get off of Mr.Park’s bad side?” He asked curiously as he took a bite of his pizza.

“I don’t know. I got lucky I guess” she lied as she stared down at her plate.

“I heard this weird wacky rumor is that you guys are in a relationship” he said and that made her choke on her cola, which made him scared. “Are you okay Nari-ah?”

“Uhm...yeah” she said and took a bite out of her pizza. “Where exactly did you hear that?”

“From Dani. But you really can’t believe what she says without proof, so she’s pretty much telling a tale” he answered.

Nari then sighed in relief and looked up to her friend. “If something was going on between us, I’ll tell you first then Yunho.”

Yunho smiled and continued eating his food. Nari felt bad for lying to him, but it wasn’t a good time to tell him, especially since Dani is highly suspicious of them. She then shook out the thoughts from her head and went along eating with Yunho.

It was now 4 in the afternoon and Nari came home from work. The full paid internships will be announced next week and she was nervous. Even though she was dating Seonghwa, she still wants to prove that she can work better.

Nari heard a knock at her front door and went to open it. She turned the knob and there stood Seonghwa with a bag of ingredients.

“I remembered from a few days ago you were craving stirred udon, so I came to fix it for you” he said with a smile. He was changed out of his suit and now was wearing a white buttoned shirt tucked into some black pants. “Can I come in?”

Nari cleared the way of her front door and he went into the kitchen and put the bags on the counter. Nari sat on one of her bar stools as she watched Seonghwa rummage around her kitchen for a pot to boil water in.

“You need to invest in some cookware” he said as he found a pot to boil water in.

“I would but I burn water” she joked as he chuckled lightly as he put the pot on the stove.

“Since it’ll take a while for the water to bowl, how about we do something to pass the time?” He asked as he walked over towards her and biting his lip.

He grabbed her waist and leaned in. The kiss started out slow and gentle, and then it went to heated in a second. Nari wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up on the island. His lips then went down towards her neck and leaving red marks along her neck. She whimpered as he found her sweet spot.

“Found it” he whispered as he went back to leaving marks on her. Nari’s hands traveled down towards his shirt and unbuttoned some of his buttons, as Seonghwa was in the process of trying to remove her pants.

Before he could successfully take of her pants, a knock interrupted them. They jumped at the knock and waited for the person to say something.

“Nari-ah! I have the notes you let me borrowed last week! Are you in there or are you sleep?”

It was Yunho. Nari quickly jumped off the counter and fixed her pants that Seonghwa almost took off.

“It’s Yunho! You have to hide!” She whispered as Seonghwa hurriedly buttoned back up his shirt. Nari pushed him in the closet in her living room, where she usually keeps her old coats and jackets and other things.

As she closed the door, she heard the code being entered and Yunho entering. “Were you sleep?”

Nari shook her head and then hid her neck after she saw it in the mirror in the living room. “I wasn’t sleep, I was just busy putting something in the closet.”

He put the notes down on her coffee table and walked towards her. “Why are you holding your neck? Did you strain it?”

“No. It just hurts from me overworking” she said. “You should go. We have exams and you should be studying really hard.”

“Yeah, but I’m also excited to see who gets the paid internships. I hope me and you get it” he said.

“Same” she agreed. Yunho bid a goodbye and closed the door. Nari looked out her window to make sure he was gone from view and then Seonghwa stepped out and looked over at the stove and the water was now boiling.

“Looks like it’s time for me to cook and after we finish eating, we can continue what we were doing before Yunho interrupted.”

It was now the week of the paid internships. People have been working hard over the weeks to get it, but Dani kept pushing the objective that Seonghwa and Nari are indeed dating, but people just called her crazy.

Hongjoong came by her desk and gave her a coffee. “I know about you and Seonghwa.”

Nari choked on her coffee and looked up at him with wide eyes. “H-how’d you know?”

“Did you forget we’re friends? He told me about it a few nights ago over a drink” he said. “Make sure to keep it a secret if you get the internship, the women here love to talk.”

Nari thanked him and continued to drink her coffee. Sunji and Dani came back from a meeting they were in and sat down at their desks.

“Sunji-ah, didn’t you see Seonghwa and Nari eating dinner together a few days ago?” Dani asked as she whispered towards Sunji. Sunji looked nervous as she looked over to Nari.

“Dani, I don’t know about this...” Sunji trailed off and then was cut by Dani saying something rude to her.

“Why is so crazy to find out stuff about me?” Nari asked as she bit her lip nervously.

Now it was 4 P.M. everyone huddled around Seonghwa to found out who got the paid internship. Nari held her hands nervously as he looked over the paper.

“You guys worked hard over the months, but like I said in the beginning, I’m choosing half of you. So if your name is called, you got the internship.”

“Choi San, Jeong Yunho, Kang Sunji, Moon Nari, and Lee Dowoon. Those 5 worked harder than anyone I’ve ever seen and it was only fair to choose them” he said.

Nari was happy that she was chosen. She looked over towards Dani who looked angrily.

“Yah! Mr.Park! How could you choose Nari over me? I worked harder than her in all the things. I did every task I was supposed to do!”

“If you call spreading rumors, talking bad about your other peers, plus my employees I hired. Then I guess that’s your definitions of tasks” he said as he crossed his arms. “My decisions are final.”

Nari smiled at Seonghwa and then Mr.Park and grabbed her things. When she was on the first floor of the office, she felt a shove behind her and an angry Dani.

“Did you really sleep with Mr.Park just so you could get the internship?” She asked angrily. “I never knew the Moon Nari is that kind of girl.”

“Dani just admit it. You’re just angry you couldn’t get what you want this time. And besides, you barely did any of the work, Sunji did your work” Nari said and walked out of the building.

“You’re going to regret saying that Nari.”

“You’ve done well these past months” Seonghwa said as he took a sip of his wine.

Nari had an identical glass and took a sip of hers as well. She was too distracted on what Dani said to her to even hear what Seonghwa was saying to her.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he caressed her cheek worriedly.

“Hmm. Yeah, just thinking about some things” she said.

“What were you thinking about?” He asked.

“Nothing. It’s just what Dani said to me.”

“What did she say?”

“Oh it wasn’t important. Just her talking nonsense.”

“How about I go run the two of us a nice, warm bath and fall asleep for the night. How does that sound?” He asked and she nodded.

“That sounds nice.”

[barzzal]

hi! would you be willing to do a part 3 to the angsty dad! mat fic? i need a happy ending 🥺

read part one and part two here. also, i listened to gone gone gone by honne while writing 💞

theo’s laughter was all that you can hear as soon as you got out of your mom’s guest room.

it was over a week since you left mat. pretty much the same amount of time you have been dodging his calls. he tried coming over your workplace a couple of times but you managed to make your assistant turn him away. you were quite amazed that he’d even put an effort but you still needed time to think things through and so, you were thankful that your mom was kind enough to tell him you and theo weren’t in her house the first time he came over.

“good morning, mommy!” theo greets you enthusiastically with his mouth still full from taking a bite off his waffles. he effortlessly earns a smile from you as you bent down to kiss the top of his head.

“no talking while you’re chewing your food, young man.” you tell him, your little boy willingly submits to what was asked of him. you kiss your mom on the cheeks who was already sipping her morning coffee across from your son on the breakfast table.

“good morning, sweetheart.” she says, greeting you with a smile.

“guess who has called me thrice so early in the morning?” your mother suggestively looks at you whilst she reads her morning paper.

you didn’t want to assume that it was who you were thinking of so you just shortly give her a shrug before grabbing the pot to transfer coffee into your work tumbler.

“if running away worked with your dad, i wouldn’t have ended up marrying him, y/n.” your mom subtly reminds you, carefully choosing the right words so the little one wouldn’t pick up on what the two of you were talking about.

theo has been asking a lot about mat since the first morning you’ve spent at your mom’s. he wasn’t really used to not seeing his dad everytime he wakes up or goes to sleep. and you know, that as a child yearning for his father, theo’s bound to realize what happened between the two of you any time soon.

“ma, dad’s different. he’s a good father.” you remind her. knowing your mom, however, you should have known that she’ll just be throwing the same rock at you.

“and so is yours. that man just needs a little nudge.” she says, giving theo a glass of water when he was done savoring his first meal for the day.

“theo, baby, could you get your school bag now? we’ll be going in a bit.” you politely ask him. your son eagerly nods as he zooms off towards the guest room where the two of you have been staying for the time being.

when theo was far enough from hearing the two most important women in his life (exactly how your son worded it last night), you sit across from your mom and took the shot of listening on what she has to say.

“you’re supposed to be partners, darling. i really don’t get why you choose to team up against each other when everyone knows you’re far better off together.”

“mom, it doesn’t work like that.” you tell her.

your mother was quick to raise a brow at what you’d just said, “tell me how it works then.”

you scratch your temple at the growing uneasiness beginning to creep up your spine under your mom’s heavy gaze.

“he’s... he’s no longer the man i married. he wasn’t like this. and i–” your mom immediately cuts you off with a scoff, “and you think you’re still the woman he married? sweetie, the reason why there’s an awful lot of failed marriages out there is because they fail to remember one salient thing about keeping one.”

you were quiet for a while. admittedly wanting to hear the rest of what your mom was going to say.

“and what is it?”

“it’s not gonna be easy.” she says, eyes darting on yours.

“it’s gonna be a mess. but you and mat? i know you’ll be able to make it work. anyway, if you really think you’re gonna end up on that road, then by all means, do it. if you can picture yourself raising theo without him, i’ll be with you every step of the way.” she stands when the doorbell rings, starting to make her way towards where your son was currently at.

“could you get that for me, sweetheart?” she says motioning towards the front door, already receding into the hallway.

you stand and head towards the door. you didn’t bother to look through the peep hole for you thought your mom was just getting her parcel.

but as soon as you opened the door, what you saw was an anxious mat, running his hands through his hair, the other fidgeting on his waist, and his back turned against you, desperately wishing to see his wife and his son.

you were stunned to see him. even though he was wearing decent clothes, you could already tell just by how deranged he looked, with heavy circles present underneath his eyes, and the fact that he looks tired, you realize that this whole thing might be taking a toll on him worse than you could even imagine.

“y/n.” a quiet whisper escapes his lips. obviously surprised you were the one to greet him by the door when he was actually hoping to talk to your mom.

“what are you doing here?” you ask him, voice dead and cold.

“y/n, please.” he pleads, contesting with himself because he didn’t want to push you further over the edge. he knew that you didn’t want to see him, and even if it kills him, knowing that his son was inside that house kills him a million times more.

“please talk to me.” you avert his gaze and shake your head no but just as you were about to close the door, your son walks out the room and sees mat at the end of the hallway.

as he meets his father’s eyes, a gleeful look was all that’s painted on his little face, “daddy!!!” he squeals, running past you and straight into mathew’s arms.

mat was already over the moon at the sight of his young man. your grip on the knob tightens as you try to keep yourself together upon the sight unravelling before you.

“daddy, where were you?” theo begins to cry, his arms almost choking mat for clinging onto him a little too tight.

mat looks at you for a moment, silently asking for your approval. when you only break off from his gaze, he takes it as a yes.

“i... i’m sorry but daddy had to sort out some things, buddy.” he says once theo’s small and tiny arms lets go of his hold.

“hey, don’t cry.” mathew hushes, wiping theo’s cheeks with the back of his hand. evidently shattered for having to see his son this way.

“are you going to leave again?” theo sniffs and innocently asks, unconciously hitting a sensitive nerve between you and mat.

mat looks at you for a moment for he didn’t know if he still has to leave nor was he still welcome to come back. he didn’t want to step in so abruptly because he knows it’ll just be all too overwhelming for you. and he couldn’t let himself cause you much pain than he already has. but he also couldn’t let theo hang by a thread just because the two of you couldn’t work things out together.

“no.” he finally says. “not anymore.”

he wishes that you caught on what he really meant. he was going to make up for all the shit you had to put up with him. you have given him a glimpse of what his life would be like without you in it. he just couldn’t stand a day without you and theo, and he knew that if he’d continue being short of the man you married, it wouldn’t take long before you finally realize that you and theo are better off without him in the picture.

you take your son’s hands away from him, reminding him that he still had a lot to go through.

“sweetie, come on, we’ll be late for school.” you say in a tone that even sounded differently in theo’s ears.

“can daddy come with us?” he asks you, shyly tugging onto your skirt.

you only give him a forced smile, ruffling his hair as you hold his hand firmly, “no, baby, he still has some things to work out.”

theo’s face drops at what you said, but even then he was quick to plaster a smile and look back at his father. “daddy, will you come to my play on saturday?” he asks, arms already clinging onto mat’s neck as fast as he broke off from your hold.

“you’re in a play?” mat’s eyes widen at the thought of seeing theo on a stage, making you roll your eyes, something that’s definitely reminded you of why you were in this situation in the first place.

theo wildly nods, making mat smile from one ear to the other. “i’ll be there.”

once theo lets go of mat’s arms, you take him by the hand and begin treading your way towards your car, leaving mat alone as he watch his life walk away from him for the second time.

𖥸

you were already running late for theo’s play and you still haven’t got a hold of mathew. it was bad enough that you actually hoped he’d try to at least make an effort but now you’ll have to put up with another disappointment when you tell your son his own father couldn’t be bothered to come for his play. 

did you honestly think he’d give a damn?

you have never walked this fast all your life. the only thing that was going on in your mind was the image of your son, alone and scared as he peek through the curtains, only to find neither of his parents present for his event. you can’t possibly do that to a three-year-old. 

but frankly, mathew can. 

“mrs. barzal!” theo’s teacher came running towards you, wearing her warm smile as usual. 

“hi. i’m sorry i’m a bit late, where is theo?” you ask her, still panting and catching for breath.

“oh, don’t worry! theo’s already at the backstage with your husband.” she says, motioning towards the wide doors.

you thought you just misheard her so you ask just to make sure, “excuse me? what do you mean—” 

“theo came in with his dad an hour ago, ma’am.” she says, the two of you making your way towards the backstage. 

once you’ve set foot in the dressing room, you see your boys too immersed as they go over theo’s lines. mat was practicing along, mouthing every line theo utters. 

“show’s in about five minutes.” theo’s teacher excuses herself and goes on to do a final check on the kid’s routine. 

as you take in the scene before you, you can’t help but stumble in your steps, overwhelmed that mat finally kept his word this time.

you clutched your purse close to your chest when theo caught a glimpse of you, enough to make mat turn his head towards where you were standing. 

“mommy! you’re late!” theo reprimands, making you laugh a little. 

you make your way towards them, crouching to meet your son at eye level, “i’m sorry.” you coo, admittedly in awe of your son’s attire and costume. you pepper theo’s cheeks with kisses as an attempt to make up for the time you’ve spent working away from him. mat quietly smiles as he watches you and theo so close, yet still so far before his eyes.

you watched mat go over theo’s lines for the last time before theo’s teacher called the kids to huddle them up to get the show started. soon, all the parents were ushered down the stage and into your respective seats. 

“hey.” mat takes your hand for a moment before following the rest of the parents exiting the backstage.

he sighs, a little uncertain and afraid of what you might tell him afterwards but he just couldn’t take another day without you or theo in his life. 

he wants you back.

he wants you home.

he wants you.

“i’ll be better.” he sincerely says, fighting the lump he’s beginning to feel in his throat upon remembering the nights he had to endure without you in his arms.

“i know.” you reply, smiling genuinely as you entwine your hand with his, this time, letting him know that you’ll never let go.