#good talk chet (after he left)

[chet-ho7mgren]

JDub and JWill did an ig live earlier, and Chet got on for just a few minutes, but the whole thing was gold (also feat. former Thunder legend Darius Bazley) 💙💙

[mynameismckenziemae]

Unbroken

Part 11

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You

Summary: More time goes by and Bradley moves in. You get some news that shocks you to your core.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Adult language and themes, pregnancy talk.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Sick again, sweetheart?” Bradley asks with a yawn as he stumbles into the bathroom. He rubs your back as you empty your stomach into the toilet.

“Yeah,” you moan as your stomach turns again. “Sorry I woke you up again.”

This is the fourth morning in a row you’ve woken up on your way to the bathroom covering your mouth. You both had the stomach flu a few weeks ago and Bradley’s back to normal but you haven’t felt right since.

“It’s okay, I had to get up anyway,” he murmurs, wetting a washcloth with cool water and wiping it over your forehead. “Maybe you should go to the doctor?”

You nod. “I think so too. I’ll call when they open.”

“Mmkay,” he replies, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Let me know what they say.”

“I will,” you say, wiping your mouth and flushing the toilet once you close the lid. “Thanks.”

“For what?” He asks, crouching down to brush your hair off your neck to place the cool cloth there.

“Taking care of me when I’m sick,” you reply, closing your eyes as you remember the way Chet laughed and left you heaving on the ground the first time he got you drunk. “Not being grossed out by me emptying my guts the past few mornings.”

“I want to because I love you, Em,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Once the nausea is at bay, he helps you to your feet and gets in the shower as you brush your teeth.

“We should be done by 4 today, and then I’m going to stop by the apartment to pick up the last of the boxes, but you can call me if you need anything. We’re just in the classroom today,” he says over the running water.

You had been meaning to ask him to move in for a while but didn’t know how to bring it up; but that was remedied when you blurt it out after a particularly good round of morning sex a few weeks ago.

“I will,” you say, heading back to the bedroom to lie down as another round of nausea hits.

Emma: Hey guys, I’m not feeling well again and I’m gonna make an appointment with my doctor when they open. Do you think one of you could see Akin’s new calf? That’s all I had on the schedule for today.

Gav: Of course, feel better.

Noah: No problem. Let us know how it goes.

Emma: Will do. Thanks guys. I appreciate it.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You snooze until Bradley leaves you with a kiss and a reminder to call the doctor.

You set an alarm and make an appointment for 10:00 AM and plan to have labs drawn beforehand.

Emma: Made an appointment for 10:00.

Bradley: Good, let me know how it goes. Love you.

Emma: I will. Love you too.

You drop a coffee off for Charlie on the way to the lab since the therapy department is connected to the hospital.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Charlie yawns before she takes a drink. “Jake kept me up way too late last night.”

“Gross,” you scrunch your nose. “Be careful what you say, I actually might throw up this time.”

“Stomach still bothering you?” She asks after she giggles.

“Yeah, it woke me up again this morning,” you reply, checking your watch. “I better go though, they want me to have labs drawn before the visit.”

“Let me know what they say,” she murmurs, hugging you.

“I will,” you reply, giving her a squeeze before letting her get back to work.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

By the time the doctor comes in, you’re feeling back to normal and feeling a little silly for making an appointment.

“Good morning, Emma,” your doctor smiles as she shakes your hand. “We’re still waiting on a few labs to come back but I figured I’d come in and take a look at you and ask you a few questions.”

You nod, lying back as she guides you down and begins her exams, starting with your stomach.

“Any breast tenderness?” She asks as she palpates said area.

“A little,” you answer. “It’s not uncommon for me though; I take my birth control pills continuously, taking a break every 3 months to get a period.”

“Okay. When was your last period?” She asks as she helps you up.

“About a week before we got sick,” you reply, swinging your legs at the end of the exam table.

“Alright, let’s see if those results are in,” she says, clicking around. “Well, I know what’s going on.”

“What?” You reply, heart pounding.

“You’re pregnant.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“…help me put her feet up and get an ice pack,” you hear the doctor say. She sounds far away.

“What…what happened?” You say, sounding funny to your own ears; your tongue feels heavy.

“You fainted, honey. It’s okay, happens all the time,” the sweet old nurse reassures you, wiping a cool washcloth on your forehead. Just like Bradley did this morning.

Oh God, Bradley.

Your stomach rolls as you think of him leaving you.

“I can’t be pregnant,” you say, trying to shake your head. Your lips go numb as you begin to hyperventilate. “I take my pill every day, I’ve never missed one or taken one late. I’m not- I can’t-“

“Shhh,” the nurse shushes you. “Everything’s okay. Breathe with me, okay? Inhale for 3. 1…2…3, good.”

“Is there anyone I can call? Someone close by?” The doctor asks from your other side once your breathing is back under control.

“My sister, Charlie Seresin. She works down in PT,” you say, closing your eyes as the nausea starts to creep in.

“Oh, I know Charlie. I’ll go get her,” the nurse nods and pats your hand before heading toward the door.

“Is this a welcomed surprise?” The doctor asks as she rubs your hand. “I know last time it wasn’t.”

“I-I don’t know,” you say, closing your eyes as you try not to panic. “It’s not like last time, no. My boyfr-my Bradley-we just started to go without condoms a few months ago, I thought it would be okay since I’m so diligent with taking it.”

“You were doing everything right,” she assures you. “According to your HCG levels, you’re about 6 weeks along, which coincides with you being sick.”

“And it’s probably not very effective if you throw up shortly after taking it,” you say, lip trembling as you begin to cry as you realize. “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not-“

There’s a knock on the door and Charlie rushes in.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks, rushing to your side.

“I’m…pregnant,” you choke out on a sob.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” she says, wiping a tear and holding your face between her hands. “Bradley’s not Chet. Bradley’s not going to leave you. Okay?”

You nod through your tears.

“He loves you and he’s going to be so happy,” she whispers, kissing your forehead. “He’s going to be the best dad and you’re going to be the best mom. This isn’t a bad thing. It’s maybe a little sooner than you’d like, but it’s going to be okay, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, trying to believe her.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Charlie holds your hand as the doctor goes over what to expect in early pregnancy and helps you set up an ultrasound for the following morning.

All while you ignore the constant buzzing of your phone.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Charlie asks as she walks you out to your truck.

“Yeah,” you say, giving her the best smile you can muster.

“Okay, text me when you get home,” she says, obviously not convinced.

“I will,” you agree.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Em. This isn’t a bad thing. Bradley’s not going anywhere,” She murmurs after wrapping you in her arms. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Okay,” you nod, tears filling your eyes again.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You drive home on autopilot and suddenly you’re in your driveway without remembering a thing about the ride.

You pull out your phone and wince at the 11 missed calls and 7 new texts from Bradley as you open Charlie’s thread.

Emma: I’m home. Gonna lay down for a bit, I’m exhausted.

Charlie: Okay, please call Bradley, he’s freaking out.

Emma: 👍

Instead, you turn your phone off before changing into one of Bradley’s threadbare US Navy tees and climbing under your covers as tears steadily fall from your eyes. A sob leaves you when you smell his sweet shampoo on your pillow.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Emma?! Where are you?!” Bradley’s panicked voice pulls you from your slumber.

“In here,” you croak; your voice hoarse from your sobs. Your head pounds as you sit up.

He rushes into the bedroom and wraps you in his arms. “Thank God. That was the longest 27-minute drive of my life” he breathes, pulling back to look you in the eye, face falling as he takes in your tear-swollen eyes. “Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You just shake your head and bury your face into his shoulder as you begin to cry again.

“Whatever it is, we’ll get through it, okay?” He says, stroking your back which just makes you cry harder. “It’ll be okay.”

Your tears eventually begin to slow and you take a deep breath before pulling away from his shoulder but unable to meet his eye.

“What’d the doctor say?” he asks, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“That I’m not sick,” you whisper.

“Okay, that’s good,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your lips and tilting your chin up. “What’s going on then? Talk to me, baby.”

You take a shaky breath and finally meet his eye.

“I’m pregnant.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: sorry for being MIA lately. Been a little discouraged and a lot busy.

Did anyone see this twist coming? 🙂

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added/removed!):

@mamamaystbr

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

@littlezee80

@emma8895eb

@jessicab1991

@devil-angel-winchester

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 6

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

I've rewritten this section so many times, and I'm still not thrilled with it, but I'm happy enough with how it's progressed. You and Norm are dealing with the aftermath of the raid on Vault 33 and how the MacLeans want to proceed following the kidnapping of their Dad.

Part 1 Here. Part 7 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 8 Here

Part 3 Here Part 9 Here

Part 4 Here Part 10 Here

Part 5 Here Part 11 Here

Norm stayed held up in the makeshift bunker, as quiet as possible, until Lucy returned to set him free. They embraced, holding each other close; he’d never been happier to see his sister’s face, but Norm could tell something was amiss when she clung tighter to him as he moved to break away. 

“Dad?” he asked cautiously, unsure if he entirely wanted her to disclose that information. He expected the worst. 

“They took him,” she croaked in reply, blinking back some tears. This was...unexpected. She took her time to explain how the raiders used her and some other dwellers as leverage to get the Overseer to hand himself over as their hostage and disappear to the Surface. Her story raised many questions, but honestly Norm was too exhausted to engage in those thoughts. 

“Everything will be alright,” she promised as she helped him to his feet. Norm wanted to believe his sister with every fiber of his being. Lucy usually could make good on this type of promise, but how on Earth was she going to navigate this one? 

His family mostly accounted for, Norm turned his attention to locating you. He hadn’t seen you since he fled the Vault 32 corridor. A wave of shame hit him as he recalled that memory, wishing he could have done something, anything, in an attempt to protect you. Instead, he turned tail and ran. But your absence the rest of the evening could be good, right? You didn’t get mixed up in the chaos in the main chamber of Vault 33. For once, Norm allowed himself some wishful thinking.

_________________________

The last hour or so was mostly a blur of events you were trying to piece together as you sat in the atrium receiving stitches from the only vault doctor standing. 

“And one more stitch ought to do it,” the doctor said as she wrapped up closing your wounds on your arms. Thank god, you didn’t know how long you could continue to avoid paying attention to the needle pricks across your arms. You were barely holding it together as is. 

 “You were pretty lucky you managed to quickly treat and bandage these wounds. I think it will help the healing in the long run,” she said as she disinfected and re-dressed the bandages over your stitches. “That gash on your left is pretty deep, though, so you might experience some numbness and lack of mobility if there’s nerve damage. When we see you back down in the med bay to change those bandages, we’ll talk about running a few more tests and rehabbing if needed,” placing her hand on your back as she moved to the next patient. 

After your encounter with your raider attacker, you managed to stumble down the remainder of the corridor into one of the outer supply rooms, connecting Vault 32 and Vault 33. Thankfully, it was equipped with some basic medical supplies, allowing you to hastily tend to your wounds before fading out of consciousness. When you awoke and finally arrived in Vault 33’s atrium, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, but much of the commotion had died down. 

You scanned the faces of the remaining Vault 33 dwellers as they moved around the atrium: Betty, Woody, Reg, Davy, Steph, and Chet, all accounted for. You did not dare identify those slain across the floor, afraid you might see a particular brown-haired dweller among them.  

______________________

Norm’s wish was granted when he spotted you in the crowd receiving medical attention from the Vault doctor. You were alive; however, his immediate relief turned sour when he saw your state. Blood spattered across your face and hair, and lines of stitches were woven up the sides of your arms being tended to. 

He could feel a plethora of different emotions bubbling up into his chest: guilt for abandoning you in a time of trouble, anger at himself and the individuals who caused you harm, and fear that you would never want to talk with him again. That last thought paralyzed him, stopping him in his tracks. What if you never wanted to see him again? He had just gotten his friend back, and was he destined to lose her? 

“Norman?” The sound of your voice clarified his brain, driving away all the negative thoughts and emotions. Instantly, he wanted nothing more than to be at your side. Moving one foot in front of the other, he hurried to close the distance. Once there, he wrapped his arms around you, and you fell emotionally into his arms. This time, he wasn’t letting go. 

_____________________________

The following morning came way too quick, and the dwellers of Vault 33 rallied just as fast, much to your dismay. An assembly meeting was called, and dwellers were assigned their post-raid clean-up duties. The goal? Get everything back to normal as fast as possible. How were we supposed to go “back to normal” after last night? A fresh coat of paint and routines of normalcy wouldn't cut it. But people were more interested in getting back to their day-to-day rather than lingering on the death and destruction of their community. Part of you didn’t blame them, but pushing past without a second thought also felt wrong. 

You arrived later than most of the crowd, but there was still an abundance of open seating. You took the open seat next to the MacLeans, interested to hear what the assembly had to say, even though you already had a good idea. Life in the vault is nothing but predictability.

“Settle, settle.” You heard as Reg took control, attempting to silence the crowd for the meeting. 

Lucy immediately stood, determined to have to the floor. You knew what she wanted to say before she opened her mouth to speak, seeking any chance of putting her broken family back together.

 “I have a proposal for the assembly. We send a search party to the surface to find my dad.” Unsurprisingly, her proposal was met with the shocked gasps of the dwellers present; nonetheless, she continued as resilient as ever to win them over. “Even with our dwindled numbers, we can spare four people from farm duty for up to two weeks.”

“Sorry, Lucy, but you’re talking about opening the vault door?” Reg interjected, asking for clarification on what was so “obviously” a ridiculous request. 

“For just under a minute. It’s just enough time… “ Lucy attempted, trying to rationalize with the crowd she was losing. You admired her courage but doubted the council or anyone in the Vault could be swayed to do something so whole-heartedly against their nature. 

“Okay, I know we’re just brainstorming here, and there are no bad ideas in a brainstorm… but.” 

Ah, there it is. The acknowledgment that this was never up for serious consideration. 

“But, that’s something that we ever do or have ever done, never, never ever.” 

“I know, I know that,” Lucy conceded, her voice increasingly desperate.

Betty, clearly having had enough of this conversation, interjects. “I know we’re all hurting right now, but our first priority has to be to maintain the security of this Vault. That means not opening any of our doors.” 

“Well said, Betty.”  “Yes, thank you, Betty. Okay, let’s move on.” That’s it; in a swift dismissal motion, the council decided. 

Lucy shakes her head in disbelief, shocked by the group's unwillingness. Not sharing his sister’s optimism, Norm speaks up about the situation's reality. “ They don’t want to find Dad. If they did, they wouldn’t get to be in charge,” he utters solemnly. His tone tells you that he wishes that wasn’t the case. Reassuringly, you place your hand lightly on his knee, being there for him as best you can. He moves his hand to yours, the gesture not going unnoticed as he maintains eye contact with his sister. He hated to be the one to break it to her that the MacLeans would be alone in this endeavor. 

Crestfallen, Lucy moves to leave the meeting; however, you had a feeling this wasn’t the last you’d hear from her about rescuing Overseer MacLean. 

_______________________

Norm fiddled with the Nuka Cola machine, trying not to make it abundantly evident he was up to something. He was so bad at this. He barely acted typically under normal circumstances, let alone stressful situations. He just had to keep a low enough profile to ensure he, Lucy, and Chet could reach the main vault entrance unseen. Easier said than done when the elevator access was smack in the middle of the most central location in Vault 33. 

He leaned against the machine as he heard someone approach, trying to act as casually as possible. Just act like everyone else, he told himself.“ Hey, Davey,” he called out to the older man as he wheeled another raider corpse down to the composting room, “How’s your day going?” 

“It's as bad as everyone else’s,” he replied, taken aback but somewhat used to how Norm engaged in social interactions. Shaking his head, Davey hurried down the hallway, brushing off the encounter, eager to finish this dreadful task. 

Norm breathed a sigh of relief as Davey walked away, now to get on with Lucy’s plan, but his relief was short-lived when he heard another pair of footsteps rounding the corner. He reassumed his original position.

“What are you up to, Norman MacLean?” he heard your voice ring out from around the corner moments before you appeared, arms crossed in front of him. Your tone and body language told him you were already suspicious of his behavior if you hadn't already figured out what he was up to. But he opted to double down, hoping you’d drop it quickly and let them be on their way. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, (Y/N). Everything is perfectly normal,” he says, leaning back against the Nuka Cola machine. 

“A huh,” you replied unconvinced. “And, I’m sure this has nothing to do with your friends waiting by the elevator?” you inquire as you peek your head around Norm to wave to Lucy and Chet waiting by the elevator. You smirk as Chet returns your wave. “I can help,” you lean in and whisper. 

Damnmit. “I know that, but I’d rather not get you into trouble if I can avoid it. Please,” he’s begging now. 

“Fine,” you allow with a dismissive eye roll. “Your secrets are safe with me.” 

“I never had any doubt… though if you didn’t mind discouraging anyone from calling the elevator, it would be a tremendous help,” Norm offered as he walked over to join his sister and cousin in the elevator. 

“Aye, Aye,” you saluted, taking up your new post as you watched the doors close behind them. 

[sondheim-girly]

my submission for day 4 of @outsidersweek! Thanks again to @walmartbrandwhatever for being my beta reader, and here's the masterpost for this fic.

September, 1967

Marcia

Marcia hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d just sat and watched the movie with Cherry and those two harmless greaser boys. However when Trip saw her sitting with them, he didn’t think of it that way. It seemed as though every other day now they found something to be arguing about, it didn’t matter what it was. It was exhausting, and sometimes Marcia wished she could just break it off. But when they weren’t in an argument, he treated her like a queen. In those moments she was so in love with him that it made up for everything else. It was this endless cycle, going back and forth and never ever breaking. 

So, when he saw her with those two boys and got mad, fixing things was simply second nature. She knew exactly how to shower him with affection, apologies, and kisses, until he forgot why he was even mad in the first place. Once she finally managed to get Trip to calm down, his attention turned over to Cherry, who was still hanging out with one of those greaser boys. 

“What is she doing walking around with that greaser kid?” Trip scoffed, his eyes trailing Cherry and her unlikely friend as they walked away from the concessions stand. “I can’t believe her.” 

Marcia hated when Trip got like this, just itching for a fight. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t even spend one calm night together. But she just sighed, and gently placed her hand on Trips cheek, attempting to bring his eyes back to her. 

“Trip calm down, they aren’t doing anything wrong,” Marcia tried to keep the exasperation from her voice.

“I’m sure Bob would disagree,”

“Well that's on Bob then! He ran off and left her alone, it’s not her fault.”

“It is her fault, she was flirting with Chet,”

“She was talking with Chet! Trip, please just leave it.” Marcia urged, running her hand through Trips' hair. He finally let out a resigned sigh, and gave into her. 

Two-Bit

Two-Bit was no stranger to flirting with girls. He did it all the time, in fact. It never felt like something that was a big deal to him, probably because the only girls he flirted with were simply looking for a distraction that neither of them cared about. And Two-Bit didn’t mind that. He liked the little flings! He liked the soc girls who’d engage with him for a minute, just for a thrill, before running back to their friends and forgetting it had ever happened.

Yet this was never the case with Marcia. He wasn’t sure why it was so different, why they’d made a connection that day at the drive-in, like an invisible string pulling them together. But after that day it seemed any time they were both at the drive-in, sequestered into their separate areas with their friends, they’d always find some way to flirt. Being next to each other in line at the concession stand, or sneaking glances any moment they could without their friends noticing. An idiotic idea if Two-Bit were being honest with himself, because he just knew the moment her boyfriend noticed, Two would be as good as dead. But he didn’t stop, and neither did she.

He was just musing on this while sitting in the back of the drive in, when he heard some sort of commotion going on. 

“CHERRY!” An angry voice shouted, “what the hell are you doing hanging around this ignorant piece of shit!?”

Two-Bit jumped up to see a drunk boy yelling at a pretty redhead, and across from the redhead? The youngest Curtis. Two raced over to Pony’s side in an instant.

“Is there a problem, Robert?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“You greasers don’t know where your damn place is. Opie Taylor here was moving in on my lady.”

“We were just talking,” Pony retorted. His face was cold, but Two knew him well enough to see how uncomfortable he was.

“you were just talking?” Bob looked over at Cherry. “Is that what that was?” He asked, as he made his way over to his girlfriend. “Cherry, get in the car.”

“How much have you had to drink?” Cherry asked quietly,

“Enough to know we’re done here.” He responded. Cherry shook her head and stepped back.

Two-Bit didn’t quite know why he kept on getting involved, but his mother had always taught him to treat women with the utmost respect, and seeing mr. prom king yell at that girl fired something up inside him. “It’s pretty clear the lady doesn’t want to ride with you… prom king,” he interjected with a laugh.

Bob stared at Two-Bit in disbelief. “You wanna fight? Just me and you? ” Bob challenged, taking off his pristine letterman jacket and handing it to his girlfriend without even glancing at her. His friends all started to gather around closer. “Man to man?” 

Two-Bit wasn’t one to chicken out of a fight, and definitely not one with some soc who’s drunk out of his mind, but there was something nagging at the back of his brain knowing that Marcia was standing there, watching him. He couldn’t help but take a moment to consider what she’d think if he fought Bob. He remembered a few weeks back when she’d gotten into an awful fight with her boyfriend because he showed up to the drive-in all busted up. He could still hear her voice yelling that she didn’t want him to get into fights. Against his better judgment, he glanced over at her. She had done a double take when she saw that he was looking at her, and her hazel eyes were begging something from him. He snapped his gaze back down to where Bob had drawn a line in that gravel before he could give her a moment's more thought.

 “Step up to the line, sugarbush,” Bob said. Two hesitated, but he heard those boys making fun of him, and Two-Bit Matthew’s had never been afraid of a fight. It didn’t matter what some pretty girl thought about it, she had a boyfriend, and she’d stay with that asshole no matter what he did. Two dropped his can of beer in Ponyboy's hands and raced towards Bob, but he stopped when he heard a loud interjection.

“Enough!!! I’m not going anywhere with anybody!!” Cherry yelled,

“Sherri Elaine Valance, get in the car!” Bob yelled, shocking Two-Bit. Calling his girlfriend by her full name? That was sure to help. 

“Bob, we’re done,” Cherry said, throwing his letterman jacket at Bob's feet. There was a pause, palpable tension rising through the air.

“What do you mean we’re done? What does that even mean?” Bob protested,

“It means she’s done Bob!” Marcia yelled.

“Eat shit Marcia!” Bob retorted, and Two-Bit was feeling more ready than ever to put this motherfucker in his place.

“Stop it! Just stop! It’s over, ok Bob? This is over!” Cherry repeated. Bob just looked at her in shock.

“Did you just break up with me?” he asked in disbelief. “Is that what just happened? Cherry, get in the car. Now!” He moved towards her threateningly with a final dangerous plea. Cherry crossed her arms and planted her feet, and Two-Bit couldn't help but admire her stubbornness. 

Bob looked at her for a last moment, before turning back around and coming at Two-Bit for a fight. Two just shoved him away, and he was close enough to see that alongside all the anger, there was heartbreak in Bob's eyes.

Marcia

“You’re fucking dead, loser!” Bob yelled at that kid, Ponyboy. Marcia wished she could move, but Trip had been holding her back the entire time, his arm snaking around the front of her waist. Bob was finally leaving, their friends started following suit. Other than, of course, Cherry. Marcia still couldn’t believe Cherry’d finally had the guts to break it off with Bob. She knew how much Cherry loved him, but she still couldn’t help but think that this was a long time coming. Trip grabbed Marcia’s hand and started dragging her behind him to follow their friends, snapping Marcia back to reality. She tore her hand out of his, stepping back. He stared at her for a moment, and she wondered if he’d have the nerve to start a fight. But maybe with the air of break ups flying around, he wasn’t in the mood to risk anything. He let her stay without a word. When Marcia turned away, Cherry was already making her way towards her. The two friends met, but Cherry's attention had turned on Ponyboy. She squeezed Marcias hand, then stepped away to go up to the boy. Marcia just stood there, stuck.

Cherry stayed over at Marcia’s house that night. At around 3am Marcia was sitting on her bed with Cherry, comforting the crying girl as best she could. Her mind wouldn’t stop going back to Two-Bit standing up for them. Well, certainly he was just helping out his friend, Ponyboy. But he’d helped Cherry as well, hadn’t he? She sighed. Why was that what she was worried about, when her boyfriend was probably mad at her, and he best friend was nursing a broken heart! Speaking of which, it seemed like Cherry had finally fallen asleep. Marcia lay her down, covering her with a blanket. Marcia stood up, her stomach in knots, and went down to the kitchen to make herself some tea. She had this feeling in her gut that something was wrong. She was proven right when she heard a frantic knock on her front door. She immediately ran to open it, confused and terrified about who could be at her house this time of the night. When she saw her boyfriend standing there, his face blank, it was like time stopped. 

She remembered him choking out what had happened. She remembered falling to her knees in horror. She remembered Cherry coming downstairs, having been woken up by the commotion. She remembered watching her best friend's face as Trip told her what had happened. It was something she never wanted to relive- she’d never seen grief like this. The screaming through the sobs was a sound Marcia was sure would stick with her for the rest of her life. She remembered holding her best friend as even more waves and waves of tears wracked her body. Trip stayed for a while, sitting with his back against the front door just staring ahead of him, unable to process what had happened. 

Something broke in all of them that night, Marcia thought. What do you do when a life is taken from you so soon, so quickly? He was only 17 years old. Marcia really hated him sometimes. The way he’d get drunk and get all the boys into trouble. His eyes had been like ice to Marcia, and he could be so rude. He used to try and get along with her, but eventually he gave up and either ignored her or was flat out mean. She knew he hadn’t deserved Cherry, but she also knew how much they loved each other. The way Cherry used to talk about him… and now he was gone. It didn’t matter that he could be so horrible, he shouldn’t have died. No one should die that young. 

Trip eventually left, without saying a word. But Marcia sat there, holding Cherry until the sun rose. 

[sparklingcid3r]

hellllooo i love all of ur hc nvr apologize for yapping tooo much bc these r so good it's amazing!!

what do you think pauls like post-darry was like? like when darry is officially out of his life and it's just bob and their new group of socs. do you think he really started to miss darry or was he so far gone w bob now?

Paul is so cooked fr we’re referring to him with the phrase “post-Darry” i love it. And ty anon i’m happy yall fw my silly goofy hcs<3

I’m of the belief that Darry is able to move on, but Paul never did, even if he thinks he did. He’s got Darry on his mind soooo often but he never talks about him to anyone, he’d rather die. Darry has people he needed to take care of like his brothers and the gang. It helped him not linger on Paul for too long since had to get up and go and not look back. Paul never had that. He had to do things the old-fashioned way like getting rebounds and listening to breakup music.

He fills in the hole Darry left behind with other Socs like Bob and Chet, but it’s not the same. Darry was to Paul what Pony was the Cherry. Darry was someone he could talk to and who would listen because chances are, he gets it, and if he doesn’t, he’s not the kind of person who would judge him. Greasers have a kind of unique freedom that Socs don’t, and Darry made Paul realize that, and after Darry leaves, he hates him for it.

[beauregardlionett]

we made peace with the empty hourglass (the word limit's gone and you came home)

AO3 Link

It wasn’t often that Fearne was the one awake and Orym the one out cold. Yet, here they were—Orym fast asleep with the fingers of one hand tangled in her leg fur, and Fearne on watch with Chetney. 

Since they had returned from Ruidus, Fearne thought they might catch a break, maybe travel on their own whims for a while with the chance to breathe. But they had been so busy, leaving almost no time to think or talk unless it was regarding their current goal. Earlier that evening, they had finally completed their latest mission after several grueling days of sleuthing and fighting. After all that, the party decided to extend their return journey so they could rest and relax for a few days.

Which landed them here, with Orym deeply asleep for once. Fearne had watched him wear himself to the bone, had borne witness to fresh scars and new fears that would never be addressed. She loved her little Halfling so dearly, but sometimes she wished he would let her protect him the same way he protected all of them. It seemed the least she could do was to sit sentinel over him like this while his guard was down.

The night was quiet—peaceful. Fearne drank in the steady melody of Chetney carving away at a new project, underscored by the soft, slumbering breaths of Fearne’s friends. However, beneath this gentle chorus, Fearne picked up on a sudden, discordant note.

Straightening, careful not to jostle Orym, Fearne’s ears flicked as her eyes scanned the shadowed trees beyond the light of their campfire. Chetney’s carving paused as he glanced up at Fearne in silent question.

Snap.

Fearne’s head whipped around, staring off into the shadows on her left. Chetney tracked the sound as well, eyes sharp and carving forgotten. His knuckles were white where he tightened his grip around his chisel.

She caught sight of movement just outside the glow of the firelight, and opened her mouth to call out, to scare off whatever or whoever dared approach them.

“Fearne? Chet?” 

Whatever Fearne was about to say choked off into a startled gasp, her heart leaping in her chest as the shadowed figure stepped into the light.

“Dorian?” Fearne said, voice thick with joyful disbelief. He grinned at her even as he pressed a finger to his lips, his gaze darting around to their sleeping companions. Dorian looked road weary, but otherwise unharmed. He looked stronger, too—a little sharper at the edges, more confident in the line of his posture.

Fearne had missed him so much.

“Holy crap,” Chetney breathed, grinning as he leapt to his feet and threw his arms around Dorian’s leg. “How did you find us, you little shit?”

Dorian laughed softly, reaching down to pat the top of Chetney’s head, looking unbearably fond. 

“It’s a long story,” Dorian whispered. “One I’m happy to tell in the morning after I’ve slept and greeted everyone.”

Chetney released Dorian’s leg with a half-hearted grumble about having to wait, but went back to his project without further complaint. Dorian stepped around a slumbering Ashton to sink down next to Fearne and fall into her sideways hug. Fearne wrapped him up tight in her arms, content to never let him go again if she had any say in the matter. She let him pull away, though, only so she could get a good look at his face and hold his hand with ease.

“I missed you,” Fearne said, voice soft and wobbly. “We all did.”

“And I’ve missed you,” Dorian said. “The Crown Keepers send their regards, by the way.”

“How’s Opal?” Fearne asked, tightening her grip on Dorian’s hand. Her worry for their beloved friend was something she couldn’t put off or ignore until morning. “Is she doing alright?”

“She’s as well as we could expect her to be. Still annoying the shit out of Lolth, of course.”

Fearne relaxed minutely, laughing softly. “That’s good.”

She glanced around at the group, making sure they weren’t disturbing anyone with their hushed conversation. When she looked back at Dorian, however, she found him staring down at her opposite hip, his expression wistful and complicated. Fearne followed his eye line to Orym’s tiny fingers, barely visible over the top of her thigh. The rest of him remained hidden in the draping folds of her cape he was using as a blanket.

“How is he?” Dorian whispered, voice almost indiscernible over the fire and the lull of slumbering breaths.

Fearne hesitated. They never got the chance to tell Dorian the full scope of what had occurred since he left with his brother. He didn’t know both of them had died, the details of their mission on Ruidus, or that they had been separated following the events at the Key. In turn, they knew little of what Dorian had been through with his brother and the Crown Keepers. There was so much to say in response to such a simple question.

“Tired,” Fearne settled on, and felt exactly how lackluster an answer it was the moment she said it. Being able to say as much as she wanted after being constricted to twenty-five words for so long was not such a simple transition, it seemed. “A lot has happened, and he shoulders things he shouldn’t—just like always.”

Dorian’s face did something complicated as he kept staring at Orym’s hand.

“He missed you,” Fearne said at length, smiling sadly when Dorian’s gaze shot up to meet her own. “He tried to message you every day, even when we knew the Sending Stone wasn’t working.”

Dorian’s expression twisted into something pained as he huffed out a strained exhale, looking away. It took him a long moment to find his composure, but eventually he turned back to Fearne and spoke in a watery tone, “so did I.”

Fearne reached out and pulled him back into her side, sighing happily at the realization that she finally had both her boys here beside her.

Orym made a quiet noise beneath her cloak and shifted, fingers tightening in her fur. Dorian pulled back enough to peer down at him, expression bright and hesitant at once. Fearne moved her arm, giving Dorian the freedom to move around to her other side and shift the cloak away from Orym.

“Fearnie?” Orym mumbled, still half asleep. “Is it my watch?”

“Not quite,” Fearne said, her voice wobbling with emotion. Orym, ever perceptive, startled awake at her tone, concern lining his features before he was even fully upright. He opened his mouth, likely to ask if she was okay, before he caught sight of Dorian in his periphery and froze. Orym turned to Dorian and stared at him for a suspended moment of absolute silence.

“Hello,” Dorian whispered after a pause long enough to leave Fearne wondering if they would ever say anything. He smiled at Orym, shaky and hesitant, but intensely joyful.

“Dorian?” Orym said, his voice strained as it cracked over the syllables of his name. “Is this real?”

“Yes,” Dorian breathed, laughing wetly. “Quite real.”

“How…I mean–when did–?” Orym cut himself off with an unsteady exhale before launching himself into Dorian’s chest and wrapping him up in a hug so tight it almost looked painful. Fearne grinned, wide and aching, as Dorian gathered Orym closer and pressed a firm kiss to the top of Orym’s head. Both of their shoulders were shaking—from tears or joy Fearne couldn’t be sure. But she stared at them and her heart was full.

“You didn’t answer last time I messaged you,” Fearne heard Orym say where he had his face smushed into Dorian’s shoulder. “I thought you…I thought the worst.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said, voice pained. “I had already tried using the Stone that day when you called. And then I tried again the next day, and it was like the Stone never worked at all.”

“We were back on Ruidus by then,” Orym said with a quiet sniffle. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Dorian pressed another kiss to Orym’s head and glanced up at Fearne, his smile tired but real. “Me too.”

Fearne reached over and placed a hand on Orym’s back, her other cupping Dorian’s cheek. She had her boys, safe and whole.

“You should sleep,” Fearne whispered, pulling back to spread out her cloak beside her again, patting it invitingly. Orym made a soft, panicked noise before Dorian could move, making both Dorian and Fearne freeze.

“Orym?” Dorian said, trying to sound calm despite the concern on his face. Fearne watched him smooth a hand down Orym’s back without trying to get Orym to release his hold.

“Don’t leave.”

It was clear to Fearne that Orym had meant to say it like a question instead of the painful plea it ended up being. Her heart broke a little with the realization that he was scared—their tiny, unflappable guardian admitting a fraction of his loneliness.

“I won’t,” Dorian said with fierce conviction. “I will be here come sunrise, Orym—I promise.”

He glanced up at Fearne with a mix of emotions on his face as he clung to Orym. She patted her cloak again, gesturing for him to lie down beside her while she continued her shift with Chetney. Dorian, without releasing his hold on Orym, curled up on top of the soft fabric and pressed his forehead against Fearne’s hip. He tucked Orym’s head beneath his chin and exhaled at length. Fearne buried her fingers in Dorian’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

“Love,” Fearne whispered.

“Love,” Dorian responded immediately, his smile curling up at her.

“Love, love,” Orym mumbled from where he still refused to part from Dorian. “Missed you.”

Dorian didn’t respond, but Fearne saw the way he tightened his hold on Orym and curled up just a little more.

Big spoon, middle spoon, little spoon—a complete set once again.

[just-a-funny-little-brain]

No "Guilt" in "Team"

Critical Role: Bells Hells, Orym & Ashton, 1k words

Summary: After the encounter with the creature at the bottom of the lake, Ashton can't sleep, and apparently neither can Orym. Ashton gives him a pep talk, in their own way.

tw: Ashton-typical swearing, Orym-typical guilt

Read it on ao3

---------

Ashton hated sleeping on the ground. It had been manageable when he was younger, but The Accident made every pebble, every ridge dig in to every sore and aching joint of gold. To be fair, the Shard had improved things marginally. The amplified bit of Titan blood seemed to encourage a few of those rocks and ridges to smooth out, just a bit. But it wasn’t exactly comfortable.

They sighed and adjusted the pack under his head. The Hells, dripping wet, had been too tired to try making a fire, so the only light in the alcove came from Mister’s flame and Imogen’s barely-glowing Ruidus tattoos. 

Ashton closed their eyes and willed sleep to come through their bone-deep exhaustion, but the adrenaline of the fight hadn’t fully worn off and still had him keyed into the surrounding sounds. Fearne’s soft snores, Chet’s louder ones, Laudna’s quiet “I’m on watch” humming, Orym’s — 

With a frown, Ashton shifted so he could see the halfling. He was, as usual, curled in the crook of Fearne’s knees, blanket around his shoulders, and sword not too far away. But Orym’s normal deep, even breathing was gone. Instead, Ashton could see him tensed, shoulders shuddering with each breath.

Ashton glanced at Laudna, but she was off in her own world, cleaning Sashimi intently. He sighed. Sleep was being evasive, and, well… misery loves company, right?

With a muffled grunt, they shifted a bit closer to Fearne’s heat. Carefully he reached out a hand, before noticing that the halfling wasn’t asleep at all. Instead, he was curled tightly into a ball, clutching something in his hands, and… crying.

Shit.

Ashton stifled a groan. They barely knew how to help people with normal-ass emotions, much less all the ridiculous shit the Hells have had to deal with in the last few months. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, doing their best to not wake their companions who have managed to sleep.

Orym froze. After a moment, he forced a breath and looked up at Ashton, face silently asking a question.

Ashton shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep and it seemed neither could you. Asking if you’re okay is stupid because none of us are fucking okay right now. But… shit i don’t know, do you wanna talk about it or anything?” 

He sighed and looked at the ground. After a long moment, Orym nodded nearly imperceptibly. 

“Oh. Uh, okay.” He hadn’t quite thought about what would happen next. “Do you wanna move? Or just stay here? Or…?”

Orym huffed something that could almost be called a laugh before slowly sitting up and extracting himself from Fearne’s legs. Pulling the blanket close around his shoulders as he left the druid’s circle of heat, he surveyed the crumbling ruins, before heading for a suitable place.

Pulling their own tattered blanket from their bedroll, Ashton followed. The air in the ruins was mostly comfortable, but no sense in getting any colder than necessary.

Soon, Ashton joined Orym sitting against a nearby partially-collapsed column. The halfling had his knees up and the blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders like a second skin. Despite having suggested the move, Ashton felt large and unweildy next to him.

Finally, the halfling spoke. “I talked to Dorian. At Dorian.” He took a steadying breath. “While we were in the village. Sending was working again, so after Imogen finished talking to people, I…” 

The engravings on the stone had left angry red imprints in Orym’s palm. 

“That’s... good?”

Orym curled, somehow, tighter. “I thought he was there, Ash. It makes absolutely no sense, how could he have been there? But I was convinced. And I... left. I was fully ready to abandon the rest of you and just go to him. Anything could have happened, anything could have attacked, and it did attack, and I was too caught up in wanting to see Dorian that I didn’t recognize it.” Orym forced a shaking breath.

Ashton rolled their neck as they tried to think of how the fuck to respond to that. Finally, he settled on:

“You’re really fucking good at this guilt thing.”

Orym blinked. “What?”

“You’re really. Fucking good. At feeling guilty. None of this was your fault. We all decided together to stay in the town. We were all exhausted, it’s pure fucking luck that it didn’t manage to get all of us.”

“But--”

“You act like you’re the only thing standing between the world and us all falling over dead. We’re a fucking team. It’s not all on you.”

Orym turned the sending stone over and over in his hand. Finally, he said quietly, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be heard, “I don’t know what to do if I’m not protecting someone.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Ashton winced as his ribs complained. “Look,” they said gently, “I’m not saying you can’t protect people. But don’t guilt yourself to hell and back and get yourself killed in the process.” They smirked. “Besides, if you get yourself killed, who’s going to protect us?”

Orym rolled his eyes and bumped gently against Ashton’s side, carefully avoiding the worst of the tentacle marks. “You give shit pep talks,” he said, any venom undercut by the release of tension from his shoulders.

“Can’t be that shit if it helped,” they retorted. 

Orym huffed a laugh, then sighed. “We should really try to get some sleep,” he said quietly.

Ashton groaned. “Yeah.”

Standing, Orym offered a hand up to the genasi.

“I-- sure. Thanks.”

It was awkward, but eventually, stiffly, Ashton got to their feet and immediately regretted how long they had been sitting still in that alcove.

Orym peered at him. “You okay?”

Ashton grunted noncommittally. “Good as any other week of sleeping on the ground.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

We’re a team.  

They sighed at their own words. “Unless you snuck an actual fucking bed into the Hole in the last two days, I don’t think so.”

“At least put my blanket on the ground. I’m next to my own personal furnace, I’m not getting cold,” he said with a small smile.

TEAM.

“Yeah fine, okay. Can’t make it worse.”

Slowly, doing their best to not wake the rest of the Hells, they both made their way back to their sleeping spots. 

As Ashton was finding the least uncomfortable arrangements of blankets and rocks, he paused as Orym spoke. 

“Hey Ash?”

“Mm.”

“Thanks.”

A small smile crossed their face. “‘Course. Anytime.”

[syeren]

NEW YEAR, NEW ME.

summary — after the both of you decided to break off your relationship, geto lays alone in his apartment, reminiscing over, over, and over about you.

tags — angst

His finger shakily tapped along his knee as he braced himself for the nth time. A call. A stupid. Fucking. Call. Geto gulped down a lump in his throat as he heard a voice on the other end.

“… Hello?”

“Is this… I mean— I’ve been trying to reach you, haven’t you received my calls?”

“Oh, no sorry. I think you have the wrong number.”

“I… See, yeah… Yeah, I should’ve judged by the voice.”

“No worries! I think I’ve seen your number floating around frequently during the past week, I didn’t pick up though. Genuinely, I thought it was another spam call—“

“Ah, I’m sorry for troubling you. I’ll end the call now, have a nice day.”

“You too—“

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A clammy hand dragged down his dehydrated skin, his long lashes poking out through the gaps left open by lazy fingers. A deep rumble from a sigh vibrated in his throat, then echoed around his humid studio apartment… Drenched in nauseating vanilla musk cologne, and thick smoke billowed from a half-lit cigarette. In the corner of his apartment was a Vinyl player, playing Chet Baker softly as he thought.

“… Fuckin’ hell.”

He slowly got up from his hunched position against the wall, pushing some weight off of the surface to compensate the weakened muscles he had left. He had no courage or stamina to even reach the front door if anyone wanted to check up on him, perhaps he had been too optimistic about that mere thought.

He stumbled in his apartment, toppling over heaps of garbage and empty liquor bottles, a loud statement of his pain. As he neared his unkept bed, he plopped onto his flat, tear-stained mattress. The quiet rumble of traffic outside his apartment window was his alarm clock, while the occasional chatter from his next-door neighbours were his source of entertainment. Amongst those were the occasional pops of fireworks going off in the distance, ahh yes, the welcoming of the new year.

Another year, he thought, to wake up and go through his schedule on autopilot. It was rinse and repeat, at this point. His body clock already stopped working after countless nights of insomnia, and he spent that time thinking… Again. Another day, another year.

The record continued to play, aiding the descent into his brain once more. It had been a long time since he last seen you, heard your voice, felt you in his arms— Hell, the fact he couldn’t reach you anymore was already driving him insane. What drove you away? Perhaps it was his lack of understanding towards you, maybe it was the fact he stuck his nose into his own stuff and never had the light of day just to talk— Properly, that time. However, it may be the certain situation that he was burying himself into, the over-thinking. Did you get tired of it? Were you too exhausted to put up with it?

He wanted to understand. Those countless nights he spent just pondering over his own pessimism and confusion, it was enough for him already. He turned his dreary body around, planting his face against the pillow and shutting his eyes. He nestled into the illusion of comfort, but the true beauty of peace is long gone.

The intoxicating vanilla and musk clung to his bedsheets, doused in the saltiness of tears and a hint of fresh pine. He hadn’t taken a shower yet, a proper bath didn’t even pop into one of his hundreds of thoughts running in his brain until now; thus, he opted to submerge himself in his racks of cologne and perfume for the meantime. His eyes darted sideways, tilting his head to the darkness the night sky blanketed him with. Another sigh left his lips.

“… Did I not love them enough?” his voice broke through like a scratchy record, hoarse and unpleasant. A broken record of anxiety and negativity. “Did I love them too much?”

He laid there on top of his bed, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. Sleep sounds good, real good. To simply release those relaxing chemicals into your brain, signalling it to shut down. He wished he could that to his thoughts all day but, he holds on to something he can’t achieve— The notion to meet you once more. As the time passed, he felt his body sinking deeper into his mattress and—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

A groan bursted out as he lazily reached over to his bedside table, grabbing his phone and putting it to his ear. He knew that he would get another mouthful of false-positive comments from his buds, and he sucked in a breath once pressing ‘answer.’

“Satoru, I already—”

“Geto?”

The familiar chime sound, it was the type of bell that twinkles and flutters; much like a Furin in a soft Summer breeze. It wasn’t anything like the Church bell noise that Satoru’s voice gave off, resounding, rich, yet clanging to his ears. His eyes shot open as he clambered to sit up in his bed, crossing his legs as he tried to gather his scatterplot of thoughts.

“Hey,” he managed to croak out, albeit with a loud voice crack. “I didn’t… Expect you to call me.”

“Satoru told me I should check in with you, so that’s why,” your voice sounded like you were smiling through your words. He swore he could picture you smiling. “This is my new number, you can save it if you would like.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t want to disturb you, however.”

“No, no! You wouldn’t. Well, I just wanted to check in.”

“Okay, okay… No promises on being convinced,” he added, chuckling awkwardly as he cleared his throat into his fist.

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna hang up now, okay? Stay safe, Geto.”

“Mhm, you too. Thanks— For checking in, I mean.”

“No worries, bye!”

“Goodbye.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He immediately threw his phone down to his side as cold sweat profusely beaded around his temples. Black, messy locks draped over his eyes, and his gaze shot down at the mattress beneath him. Slowly, he leaned back against the wall once more, staring at the phone that connected you and him together. Even if it were brief.

All the times he called you, wanted to talk to you, hear that voice… Yet he wussed out, only managing to blurt out a quick ‘thanks for checking in.’ He wanted to profess his adoration, his emotions he held deep within his heart but once he finally got the chance to tell you, it didn’t meet to his expectations. Strings of profanities left his lips, muttering out into the silence of his own home.

Just as the clock renewed itself on that plastic display, he too, decided for that change. The unfamiliarity of the numbers twinkled in his eyes, and surely this would be a sign of hope. To pick himself up and just start anew— Well, once he figures out how to fix up his living quarters, that is.

The distant popping and cheers echoed from his complex and outside, and once Geto looked over at the clock, it was 12:00 AM sharp. A painful chuckle left his lips as his head craned back to rest against the surface. A new year, huh? It was ironic, how cheerful and abundant the atmosphere was throughout the building and the city, yet here he was wallowing in nothing but the repetitive Chet Baker record he had on. He reached in his pocket, grabbing the same pack of Camel he had and popping a cigarette up. Pressing the stick between his lips and lighting the butt, he inhaled deeply and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. The Turkish blend scattered through the air, filling the room with hazy puffs.

Another day, another year. Maybe this one will treat him better.

_______________

an; happy new year! :3 LOL i didn’t think i would make an angst for the new year, but i’ll infuse all my good energy into this post so it won’t affect ur upcoming blessings <3 creds to saltinesaltine1

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 3.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: Unresolved sexual tension, apologies to anyone named Chet, contagious giggles, gratuitous use of the word cunt, an unspecified age difference, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Author’s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.

Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne song Can I Stay

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Story Links: Can I Stay? Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[WARNING- This is Part 3! part 2 was just posted a day before this. DON’T SKIP PART 2]

‘Noona, can I stay?’

Of course you wanted to tell him yes. Of course you had grown attached to him in ways you could never tell him. But how much power did this man really think you had in this company? Between the two of you, he had so much more influence here; heaps more than you had.

“Baekhyun, that is not a decision for me to make. You are a great assistant, but you are a more important person than just my assistant.” You made your best attempt at it. The sooner he understood the magnitude of his potential the sooner he would let go of this fixation on staying in this department as your assistant and the better off he would be. If for the sake of his future in this company, he should probably move on. Although, you also realized that part of what made you so damn good at your job was the years of experience you had with it.

“And…if the decision was yours?” His eyebrows were lifted and his expression challenged, as if he asked some mysterious, unsaid veiled question instead of this very obvious ‘Can't I just stay as your assistant’ question he was actually asking. You wondered what had made him so determined to get a response from you.

“I think with a couple of years here with me, you would get too good and surpass me.” You pursed your lips in contemplation. You saw his incredible potential the minute he walked through that door on the first day.

“And then I would have to kill you.” You said it with a straight face and it took him only a minute before his eyebrows dropped and he let out a half exhaled breath mixed with a loud laugh.

He’d spun on his heels and taken a step back from you, before turning back to look at your face again, his wide grin quite evident on his face. “This is the first time I’ve heard you make a joke.”

“What makes you think I am joking?” You deadpanned, no longer even looking at the man and he laughed out loud again.

“Oh my god,” he said out loud to himself. “I think this might be a new step in our relationship.”

“I beg your forgiveness, you kick me in the chest. I ask you to hold on to me and you threaten me with death.” He was talking only for himself now. Amusing himself with his little jokes like he often did. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of into it. I guess that ‘What Rihanna Song Are You’ quiz was right. Chains and whips do excite me.”

“Are you done?” You interrupted, actually unable to take any more after your started leafing through the pages and pages of work you had accumulated on your desk.

The more you looked the less you wanted of all of it. You began handling everything with rougher hands and eventually resorted to angrily tossing things into a miscellaneous pile you had just created that made no logical sense. If these things annoyed you the most, they landed in that pile. After a while, after every other toss a swift hand would come into your field of vision and pull something out of the pile.

You didn’t know where it went, but the pile was shrinking and your mood was feeling lighter because of it.

The only pile left after Baekhyun’s mystical sorting just needed signatures. You could do that and walk at the same time if you had someone watching for obstacles in your path.

“I have a meeting with Choi’s First AE in ten minutes and I needed all these signed like yesterday. Let’s go.”

“Now?”

“Now, Baekhyun. Sign and walk and don't let me fall into an open manhole cover.”

He did pretty good with it. “Step up,” He called out beside you and you stepped up when he told you, finding the perfect rhythm and finding the step he warned you about. “Four steps, then turn right,” he said again while also grabbing the folders and flipping to the signature pages that he had already pre-marked with brightly colored sticky tabs last week when he was desperately trying to get you to sign them. Apparently he had been getting emails about them. They were overdue. There might have been phone calls too. Not dangerously late, but you did feel guilty for the delay. Why didn’t you think of this before? You’d probably wasted hours of your life just walking. Those walking hours could have been used for signing. You were pretty sure you were a genius.

That was until your forward progress was abruptly and jarringly halted by a firm arm wrapped around your waist and you were pulled back violently. A loud sound like a beast’s roar echoed against your eardrums and you gasped out loud. Your stomach leapt up into your throat as a panic rose up inside of you from the shock of it.

You’d just stepped off a curb. He’d warned you about the step down, that wasn’t the unexpected part. The danger came too suddenly for either of you to prepare for right after that. You smelled the exhaust of a retreating motorcycle. You could see the crazy driver speeding off in your peripheral vision. You felt the trembling and the shaking inside of your chest as you tried desperately to breathe though the tightness of the arm squeezing around your waist, pulling you back to safety.

“Shit,” Baekhyun swore out loud sometime during the commotion and you’d cried out the same.

It took a few moments of steadying yourself. When your mind sharpened to what happened you found yourself having stumbled back two or three steps with Baekhyun’s arm still wrapped around your waist, the firmness of his forearm digging into the softness of the skin directly below your breasts and his hand you felt laid flat over your rib cage, fingers digging in hard. Tight and firm everywhere. You felt bound up entirely. A clattering of documents bounced onto the floor by your feet and your eyes blinked hard and fast as you tried your best to calm your breathing down. He was still holding onto you when you could feel the panic subsiding and your breathing returning to normal.

Baekhyun’s upset seemed to take longer to pass. You felt the rapid up and down breathing of his chest echoed through your back and his face was buried in the space just over your shoulder, against your neck and into your hair. You could feel the heat from his breath on your neck. It was warm and sticky.

You gave a light tap over his arm that still held you tightly around your waist. Trying to get him to loosen the hold and let you go. It took some convincing though. His arm was very firm and he was holding you very tightly. Close call with literal death aside, a new danger was quickly making itself evident. He felt incredibly warm and nice with his body pressed up against you like this and you recognized the need to separate yourself from him if you were going to keep any remaining bits of your sanity and self resolve intact.

“Are you okay? You aren’t hurt?” He asked from somewhere buried behind you and you urgently nodded. He needed to let you go. He smelled so good.

You tapped his arm again, faster and more insisting, nearly begging now.

“I’m okay,” you said as calmly and as convincingly as you could manage with the limited oxygen you had in your lungs. You could finally feel the tension in his body relaxing a little. But only a little. The longer he held onto you, the more you felt something else making the air around the both of you feel so heavy — something else making the heat spreading between your bodies somehow feel warmer.

Baekhyun was not letting you go, and this was changing for him too, it seemed.

It took no less than a miracle that you did not moan out loud when you felt the deep inhale he took into his lungs with his face still buried deep within your hair. That deep inhale was paired with the smallest sound that came from somewhere deep inside of his chest that, if you were thinking strictly with your rational brain, you could maybe contribute to the relief. He made that sound out of relief that you were not hurt. He pulled that warm breath into himself deep and slowly, savoring it for much longer than necessary out of…relief. A wave of warmth ricocheted through your chest and down into your belly and you closed your eyes through it, desperately reminding yourself that you and him were now, well out of harm’s way, standing on a sidewalk at your workplace where anyone with eyes could see this.

Your tapping was harder now. It woke him up.

As soon as his arm was loose enough, you made a quick and clean break of every and all bits of contact with his body. As abruptly as this happened, you extracted yourself and you ignored the way his eyelids fluttered slowly open and that fucking pink hue in his cheeks and lips that turned his face into one of the most attractive faces you’d ever laid your eyes on.

You squatted down, picking up everything that had fallen and soon enough he joined you, grabbing things from your hands to add to his piles without saying a thing about what maybe he also felt building between the two of you whenever you happened to get too close to each other.

It couldn't happen. It no longer mattered whether or not you believed it was happening. You knew for certain that whatever was or was not happening, it needed to stop here. You simply would never put yourself into any position for this man to need to touch you ever again. You could not trust yourself.

A moan. You almost moaned. You could practically feel the sound ready to come out of your chest if you’d only allowed your mouth to open, it would have. You were insane. You were a crazy person, a goddamned lunatic and a menace. He was your assistant for god's sake.

You steadied your breathing and your resolve and decided to allow yourself two entire minutes to sign the rest of these things on the spot. So what if you were late to your meeting. Punctuality be damned. Sure, the almost dying part was a little scary, but even you had your limits of what you could stand. You had almost moaned! What next? An orgasm right here on the sidewalk? Lock you up and throw away the key now.

You made it on time to your meeting. He was the First Assistant Editor to the Picture Editor Sophie Choi, with whom you had been working very closely with for months on this project. Sophie’s 1st was a man who simply went by Chet. No last name, just Chet. Apparently it was his thing.

He was nice. He was always polite with you even when he had some bad news to deliver, he always relayed whatever news, projects updates, or requests for your team he had for you with an empathetic and professional filter. Unlike some other utterly obnoxious 1st AEs that you’d worked with in the past, Chet was alright.

He was also tall and extremely handsome if you were into muscles, backwards ball caps, and men who looked like they probably moonlighted as underwear models in the back pages of GQ magazine. Not that you had ever seen him in his underwear, but you did follow his instagram and you always made sure to give him that little heart when he posted his pictures.

Chet was a hugger. When he saw you his smile was charming and inviting as he called out your name and he wrapped his big arms around you, pulling you in like a long lost friend. You weren't exactly friends with him. While you’d been invited for drinks with him and his team on many occasions your schedule had always been too swamped to take him up on the offers, but he was still just as friendly with you.

You didn't require Baekhyun to attend this meeting but he was weirdly insistent on tagging along after the quick introductions you made between the two men. They both shook hands and there were some formalities and awkward pleasantries exchanged between the two. Baekhyun whispered to you that he was sure that he should attend this meeting for learning purposes. You were sure nothing important other than networking was about to happen, but he insisted that everything was important in its own way. He was stubborn and after a few back and forths you finally just gave in to the man. If he wanted to waste his lunch hour, who were you to argue?

Chet made a kind of too loud joke about some rumors that you’d been saddled with some fresh meat intern and you were quick to assure him that Baekhyun had actually turned out to be the best assistant you’d ever had. After the harmless joke, you risked a careful glance at Baekhyun. If he’d taken any offense, he certainly didn't react. He spent much of the meeting sitting in the back of the room typing furiously on his cellphone, no doubt answering many emails on your behalf. Baekhyun was always busy on that phone, keeping your workload down as a side effect.

The meeting was about halfway through when your stomach growled noisily and embarrassingly, reminding you that yes, you were indeed human and you probably should eat something today.

“Why don't we take this downstairs—” Chet lifted an eyebrow in your direction, “—have some lunch… on me?”

You considered it. It didn’t sound like a bad idea. You had all of the materials already and you skipped dinner last night and now that you thought about it, you skipped breakfast this morning too. Your nerves about the presentation had kept your appetite muted. The last meal you had was something shoved into your mouth by Baekhyun sometime yesterday afternoon.

‘Eat this,’ he had said at the time and you blindly opened your mouth and received whatever he shoved in there.

“Some lunch sounds lovely, Chet. Thank you.”

“That does sound lovely, Chet. Thank you,” Baekhyun mirrored from the back of the room, obviously inviting himself along. You couldn’t be completely sure, and you definitely wouldn’t swear to it under oath, but there was something funny about his tone.

Chet’s wide smile had a microscopic hiccup as his eyes moved between you and Baekhyun and then back to you again.

“Great!” He said over-enthusiastically, almost manically and you also detected something just a little funny in his response as well.

You didn't know what, but something was up with these two men.

Lunch was delicious. Baekhyun took the spot directly beside you, took it upon himself to unwrap your utensils and he placed them just so beside your plate and Chet sat across from you and took it upon himself to unwrap your straw and place it inside your glass for you.

You weren't sure what kind of an imbecile you had appeared to be, but clearly they thought you needed help with something as simple as feeding yourself. You smiled politely to both men. Maybe they were both just overly polite people? Although you knew for a fact that Baekhyun wasn’t that polite when it was just the two of you alone.

Something was definitely up with these two men.

Oddities aside from them, you didn't realize just how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your pasta. If this was going to be your only meal of the day you were going to have some carbs dammit.

Baekhyun had grabbed a chocolate dessert with his lunch plate. You recalled him mentioning once that he wasn’t that into sweets but you didn’t want to pry. You did steal occasional glances at the chocolate layers and one such glance had your eyes bouncing up onto his face where he chewed lazily on his sandwich without any care in the world for how lovely those chocolate and vanilla cream layers looked and must taste.

His eyes slipped to the side and he looked at you as he chewed and swallowed casually. He put his sandwich down and his hand slipped over to the dessert plate. With a single fingertip he touched the edge of the plate and he pushed it quietly and carefully in your direction until it sat there beside your pasta as if it had belonged there all along.

Your eyebrows lifted and you widened your eyes in his direction, mouthing a silent and hopeful ‘me?’

He nodded his head once giving you the tiniest scrunch of his nose and he picked his sandwich back up and continued to eat until it was almost gone.

You had abandoned your pasta, you’d had your fill of it. You took the first bite of the chocolate cake and you were pretty sure you could weep. You were also pretty sure you had completely and thoroughly just fallen in love….with the cake. You could so easily be bought and sold with a good chocolate cake. Baekhyun was the winner. Whatever the competition was, if any at all, whatever these weird vibes between them were, as far as you were concerned, it was over with the first bite.

Then lunch and the meeting were actually over and you didn't catch any more strange interactions between Baekhyun and Chet. Perhaps you’d imagined it all. With your belly full and your workload even lighter you graciously accepted the goodbye hug from the tall well meaning man and you even promised that you’d make an attempt to meet him for drinks once this project wrapped. You did, afterall, have an end date in sight at last. And even if you only saw him at the wrap party where there would be drinks, you wouldn’t technically be lying to him right now. He accepted your promise with an extended pinky finger waved into the air as you walked away cheerfully.

Your mood was grand. It was probably the cake and the pasta.

“Ahh, he’s great.” You remarked out loud and from your left you heard a stifled scoff poorly disguised as a cough from Baekhyun. You turned to look at him with wide questioning eyes.

“Chet.” Baekhyun said his name out loud once with an audible emphasis on the T at the end. As if that T was its very own punctuation mark. As if it was its own hilarious punchline.

“What? He’s nice. He’s so good to work with and he’s never given me any trouble at all.” Why you felt the need to defend Chet to Baekhyun you couldn't quite explain.

Technically, Baekhyun hadn’t even said anything bad about him. He just kept saying his name as if that in itself was the problem.

“Chet.” He repeated the name again, slower this time and then he laughed outright into his hand as if it was the funniest joke he’d heard all day. You’d expected one or two chuckles from him. But strangely, and concerningly, it didn’t stop. And worse, it was weirdly contagious. You fought it all you could but you accidentally allowed a few giggles to escape when he was in the thick of the fits of laughter. It had gotten so bad in the elevator up to your office that you had to smack him on the arm to get him to stop laughing and breathe before he passed out. His eyes were watering from it. He was wheezing and he was gasping. You reached up and wiped a tear stain from his cheek and patted him right on the face kind of hard, almost a slap, anything to get it to stop. It didn’t.

You were feeling dizzy as well. You felt drunk on this madness you both found yourself trapped in. It was silly. It was childish. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed so hard. Even something as simple as eye contact with Baekhyun from across the quiet office would set you both off again. And he’d reach for the box of tissues and cover his face completely all the while loudly cackling. You had been overworked, exhausted and stressed maybe and this was a side effect of all of it. Maybe you’d both finally just lost your minds.

He eventually wound back down, calming and then busying himself with actual work.

“Chet.” He said out loud almost an entire hour later, bursting into noisy laughter all over again. You had to actually bite down on your lip to keep yourself from laughing. You were sick of it. Your stomach muscles ached and you were so very, very tired of the giggles.

“No more,” you begged, holding your face in your hands. Your cheeks were sore, everything hurt. Finally you just gave up and left the room to go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face. What was this? You wondered if you’d ever be able to meet with Chet again and just act normal. You definitely couldn't ever meet him with Baekhyun again, that was for damned sure.

Sometime in between redoing your entire face full of makeup that the laughter and the face washing wiped it out, and taking your seventh brisk lap around this hallway you decided it was time to put your foot down.

You were in charge here. This was your department, you had twenty seven subordinates that, on a daily basis, treated you with the utmost respect and followed your orders to the letter. You had made a decision that it was time for Baekhyun to do the same. You didn't care what he called you or who his father was.

You marched back into your office to face him with a plan in place ready to set into motion and you found him in a spot you absolutely didn't expect.

He was sitting behind your desk, in your chair doing a little sideways back and forth wiggle in your spinning office chair. He was humming a soft tune to himself as he carefully and slowly wrote something down with your pen on your pack of post-it notes, underlining and dotting and crossing letters. Your office phone had been moved. You guessed you received a phone call while you were out.

When he saw you walk through the door he looked up at you briefly before looking back down at what he was doing.

“Assistant Byun,” you said firmly. He hummed out in response and continued to write without looking up at you. You were fired up and ready for this and no amount of his distraction techniques were going to work on you this time. You knocked twice on your desk. “Assistant Byun?” You’d called out again and his eyebrows shot up in the middle of his face.

“Yes, yes, I am here. Your Assistant Byun is here, what do you need my esteemed and magnanimous Manager Noona?” He was still in a playful mood it seemed.

“Byun Baekhyun, from today onward you, nor I, are not allowed to say the c-word inside of this office. Do you understand me? The c-word is banned.” You put on your angry and serious voice and Baekhyun’s eyes widened and he looked straight into your face.

“I’m not allowed to say the…c-word?” he paused and his eyes looked down at the post-it note that he had just pulled off the pack and was holding gingerly between his thumb and his index finger.

“The c-word. You are not allowed to say the c-word anymore.” You harnessed the annoyance for the time wasted today. You thought about the hours of work you’d have to do at home to make up for today and you used that to make yourself seem as authoritative as possible. You meant business now. Play time was over. This was serious.

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed and he dropped his chin in confusion.

After a long moment of thought he spoke.

“Cunt?” He whispered.

You closed your eyes and inhaled a deep breath. You had completely forgotten about that c-word.

“No, Baekhyun. Not cunt, Baekhyun.” You gritted your teeth.

“The other c-word from earlier, from the past three hours Byun Baekhyun, the other c-word. You can say cunt,” you hissed in annoyance with a hand wave, “You are forbidden from saying that other c-word.” Your frustration from the day was mounting. You rubbed your temples with your fingertips, willing the headache you felt building to subside.

“So, I can say cunt in this office?” His voice was louder now and you closed your eyes, threw your head back and inhaled a deep breath. “Cunt is okay? The other c-word is not allowed, but cunt you are okay with. That right, Boss?”

“Yes. You can say cunt if you have to say cunt. Do not, under any circumstances, say the other c-word in this office. Am I clear?” When you opened your eyes he was leaning his head far back in your desk chair in a lounging position. He’d pulled the lever below the seat so the seat back leaned way back and he was watching you with that little post it still held gingerly between his fingers and there was a look of smug satisfied amusement on his pretty face.

“Did anything happen while I was away? Why are you in my chair?”

“Well,” he began, sitting up straight and pushing himself up onto his legs as he made his way back around from behind your desk where you were pretty sure you had never given him permission to be. Not that it mattered, he already had access to everything you had access to, just for the sake of the assistant’s job.

“Well?” You urged him to continue and he looked down at the note again, reaching once more for the pen he scratched something off very thoroughly and you caught a quick movement as he wrote something in its place. He stood up now, straightening his shoulders, looking as put together and professional as ever and he straightened his back as he began reading word for word from the post-it note.

“Cunt called while you were out and asked if you would like to meet him tonight for drinks. I was sure to let him know that your schedule tonight is full and would be full all week, and I made sure that he knew that you do not have space to fit him in for drinks tonight, as you will be busy all night long, with the wrap. Cunt sounded unreasonably upset and just a little bit like a c-word. You are more than welcome, but not in any way obligated, to call him back. From Baekhyun.”

He looked up from the note with wide innocent eyes and his lips pulled into the smallest little pout and you reached forward and grabbed it from him quickly. Sure enough the entire thing was there, word for word. He’d crossed out Chet, replacing it with the word with Cunt every time.

You were pretty sure you were about two seconds away from a complete nervous breakdown.

You knew when you were beat. It was close enough to quitting time that you merely wadded up the note and tossed it into the nearest trash can and began packing up your laptop and a few things you knew you could work on at home. You knew you had a hard deadline coming up tonight by midnight that you absolutely could not miss but everything was on your laptop, you could simply get it all done and submitted from home.

Your quitting time meant it was also Baekhyun’s quitting time. He helped you pack up a few of your laptop accessories, lifting a few peripherals into the air in silent question. You nodded or shook your head for what you would need and they either went into the bag or they went back to the desk. This quiet communication between the two of you was one of your favorite things about him.

The ride down the elevator to the lobby was peaceful. Today felt like running a marathon. This job was usually stressful and eventful but today had been a whole other monster entirely. You could feel the stress and tension in your shoulders and you longed for a long soak in your bathtub.

Baekhyun walked out of the elevator beside you but in no way did you both have the same destination. You knew he would go out to his car and you would make your way down to the subway. You knew he lived on the opposite side of town from where you lived. The distance had to be maybe a 40 minute drive with this office being a center point. You hoped he got some good rest at home and you knew with your workload you’d have to settle for a 30 minute nap at most.

You’d cleared the elevator hallway and stepped into the open hallway when you saw him. It was Chet, and you caught the back of him seated in a chair having a rather casual and loud conversation with a buddy. You’d recognize the 2nd AE’s toupee atop his head from a mile away. This was definitely not something you needed right now.

Your steps paused and you backed up a quick two steps, hiding behind the wall that divided the elevators from the lobby. You could clearly hear the two men laughing and reminiscing about whatever it was two buddies talked about.

Baekhyun who had been just a step behind you caught your rapid evasive motions and his eyes also zeroed in on and instantly understood the danger in the lobby.

“Oh shit,” he said under his breath. “He doesn’t even work in this building. I bet he’s waiting for you.”

“What do I do? I don't want to go out for a drink. I have a midnight deadline. Is there a back door?” Your voice betrayed your panic and Chet’s noisy words broke through the occasional squeaking of the wheels on the cleaning lady’s bucket as she mopped the hallway floor and curiously glanced at the two of you hiding here behind this wall.

‘Man, she’s got this new cockblocking assistant. Real fucking annoying, one of those pretty boys. I mean like I’m pretty but I’m still manly, you know bro? Anyway, I’ve been working on this chick for like six months which is fucking bullshit, for me, you know that. She’s a fucking tease, a sexy tease, but still. Dude, she likes all of my posts. Yeah, tonight’s the night. I’ve waited enough.’

The air felt thin and you could feel that suffocating sinking feeling in your stomach that sometimes came with these horrible realizations about people you thought you knew. Behind you, you felt his flinch as every muscle in Baekhyun’s body seemed to tense up and he took a step forward.

You reached out a hand and wrapped it securely around his arm and you pulled him back hard.

“I still have to work with him,” you said firmly and you did your best to keep the trembling out of your voice.

Baekhyun was frozen and his ears were bright red with a look of anger like you hadn’t seen before from him set deep inside his eyes.

He was eerily quiet save for the sound of his steady breathing and his fists were white from how tightly he clenched them. What was this strong reaction? It wasn’t like he had that much allegiance to you. Maybe he just hated the sight of those womanizing, degrading types of men who treated women like conquests and objects.

Baekhyun looked around at his surroundings and his focus stopped on the old woman with the mop and squeaky wheeled bucket. He was reaching into his pocket and he pulled out a crisp bill, you couldn't quite make out the denomination but it had to be at least $100 and he walked up to the woman with a smile on his face. A few words were exchanged and she quietly nodded and accepted the offering from him, turning and walking away quietly with the mop in her hand, leaving behind her bucket in the center of the hallway, close enough to where Chet sat for you to instantly understand Baekhyun’s intention.

Baekhyun was casual about it. You watched on in awe as he returned halfway to where you were and then made a quick circle, working up some speed he pulled out his cellphone and acted as if he was glued to the thing, completely immersed as he moved fast. He kicked the bucket with enough force for a wall of dirty mop water to go flying. The water was nearly black and it traveled with impressive speed, hitting Chet and soaking almost up to his waist. He yelped out in surprise and Baekhyun yelped out in surprise as he really sold it and fell down onto the floor, grabbing at his shin as if he were in great pain. The cellphone he had in his hands flew and clattered onto the carpet and Chet stood up half surprised, half enraged but too soaking wet to do much other than hobble around.

“What the fuck!?” Chet howled toward Baekhyun who was already being helped up by several concerned onlookers all who looked back at Chet in admonishment for instantly rushing to blame Baekhyun, who was clearly injured here. Chet was just wet. A few of the more sympathetic bystanders tossed a few take-out napkins in his direction.

“Who left that there?” Baekhyun called out in concern and groaned in fake pain.

“Oh no, Chet! Your pants, Bro!” Baekhyun said loudly and you had to cover your mouth with both hands to hide the loud snort of laughter that erupted from your mouth. The commotion itself lasted until Chet grumpily wobbled out of the front door, probably headed back to his own office for a change of clothes. The old woman returned shortly after that with her mop and began soaking up the remains of the liquid and Baekhyun straightened his posture, miraculously recovered from his injury and he sauntered his way back to you with a smile on his lips.

“My dearest Manager Noona,” When he reached you, he did so with his palm lifted into the air and a sweet little addition to your title on his lips, “Chet seems to have been called away on an urgent matter and is regrettably unable to join you for drinks this evening.”

“Oh no. What a shame,” you replied with a bright smile for him. You can't remember ever being quite this smiley at work before Baekhyun. If someone were to see you, they’d think you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had.

At least today was Friday. At least after you met your midnight deadline you had a late start tomorrow, you would be able to sleep in. You’d be able to eat breakfast and you’d be able to have a meal at a table like a civilized human. Your Saturday was relatively light compared to what today had been.

You said your farewells to him and you made your way to the subway, settling into the seat as you casually considered the quickest and most efficient way to make your deadline tonight. Your hand passed over the pockets, feeling for the blue external hard drive you always kept there in the pocket of this bag that had vital attachments that had been cleared and vetted by every important department at work to submit to the production teams. You felt with both hands over that space in the bag and found it suspiciously flat and terrifyingly empty. The pocket was empty. The hard drive was not in there. You were already nearly home and you searched your recent memory for clues, where had you left it. Where would it possibly be?

You searched through your memory and came up blank. Where had you seen it last? A feeling dawned suddenly and you remembered something Baekhyun had told you while you had been mentally occupied with something far more important at the time.

‘The blue hard drive is…’ His voice echoed…but you could not recall the rest of his sentence. Is where? Where was it?

You pulled out your cell phone and sent a text.

‘Blue hard drive’ you said those three words and only those three words and your phone was ringing.

You lifted the phone to your ear and before you even said a word Baekhyun was speaking.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I have it. I have the blue hard drive. Shit. This is make or break isn’t it? I forgot to give it to you. Where are you now? I’m turning around. I’m coming to you.”

“I just got home. I’ll text you the address.” You hung up the phone without saying anything else and you quickly sent him your home address. As soon as you’d done it you felt uneasy anxious butterflies swimming around inside of your belly when the realization of this hit you.

Baekhyun was coming to your house and you were about to have a full blown panic attack at the thought of that man alone in here with you.

Byun Baekhyun was coming to your house. He’d given a little thumbs up to the text message with your address and that meant that he was already on his way.

[To Be Continued]

Story Links: Can I Stay? - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[thewickedkat]

100% love your analysis on laudna and her handling of the current situation!!! This is a tangent off of that because this isn’t meant to detract from your really good take on laudna’s current state of mind! But I also have a thought that in that whole altercation a more prevalent part of Delilah was influencing her to the point of even her motives and fears were mingling with Delilah’s so the moment/ the way she snaps at Chetney abt how he had ‘no right to talk about loss to her’ gave me the impression that that was Delilah helming the reigns more so than laudna. Idk I think the lines between them have blurred so much since laudna has been feeding her more and more. I really worry about how she hasn’t even acknowledged that aloud because she really is becoming Delilah. It definitely lends itself to the self sabotage that you talked abt already, but you can really see the flaws laudna already carries being amplified and influenced by Delilah to get her ultimate goal. And as a viewer gotta give it to marisha because her rping as always is so layered and interesting

(I also haven’t really paid attention to how the cr fandom is reacting to the current debacle, but I’m sure it’s rancid lmaoo ‘xD just want to say I really like your take being able to acknowledge the extremely flawed characters without infantilizing them or condemning them to be without any redemption and how this is also a show made for entertainment)

oh, i think Delilah is definitely influencing Laudna more than even Laudna realises, and when she is aware of it, i think that knowledge brings a deep and abiding shame, which only further fuels her self-sabotage. because in all honesty, here is a woman who, in her life, apparently had little: Laudna didn't have money, or lands, or a title; she was a simple farm girl who had a budding propensity for magic. by her own account, she had few friends. by the time the Briarwoods came to Whitestone, she was just ordinary, a little lonely, and then the new lady of the land comes and acknowledges her, seems to see her, and invites her up to the castle. what common person wouldn't be a little starstruck by that?

then the most horrible thing happens to her. she wasn't special, after all, just bore a passing resemblance to someone the Lady hated, and her corpse was strung up for all to see after it was altered. and then she is 'restored' to something that only passes for life, scares townspeople through no fault of her own, and is summarily run out of town and left to subsist in isolation, always on the fringes of civilisation, for the next thirty-odd years.

it's awful. and of course Delilah is going to take full advantage of that, no one knows you like I do, dear, no one understands what it's like to be able to do what you can and be what you are, but I do, I've always seen that within you and I can teach you, I can help you do so much more; all you need to do is let me in.

even if Laudna despised Delilah in the beginning (and from what we know, she absolutely did), after a while, with only her as company, Delilah is going to erode Laudna's resolve like water on a stone. it's grooming, without the gross sex connotations. all Delilah has to do is hammer down on the point that she has known Laudna the longest and still 'chooses' to 'help' her grow in power, remind her that she has seen Laudna at her worst and hasn't forsaken her. that's it, that's the crack she gets her narsty bitch fingers in and pries open. not even Imogen knows Laudna's darknesses and insecurities, not like Delilah, and Imogen will never need Laudna the way Delilah does--she's eminently capable, Imogen is.

Laudna is terrified she will be left alone again, and so she swallows down those parts of herself that seem to cause friction: when she got angry after the party split and the half that went to Uthodurn seemed to have a good time (Letters found FRIDA; Fearne and Chet and Deanna knocked boots; they had a shopping spree), she choked that anger back so as not to upset Imogen. when she tried, later, to talk to Imogen about Delilah, Imogen literally cut her off with a kiss and derailed that conversation. every time a serious discussion potentially crops up between those two, the words I love you are deployed (not just by Imogen, to be fair) almost as a stop sign, to quell any unpleasantness between them.

(not that either of them know what a healthy relationship is like, having grown up alone and isolated, whether emotionally or physically or both. not that either of them know what stable love is like, how good it can be despite spats or arguments.)

so Laudna keeps quiet on a great many things and Delilah isn't one to sleep on an opportunity.

see, i think Laudna knows she isn't special but deeply wants to be, just like any person does. i think she very much wants to belong, to be part of something, and i think she is afraid that if she is 100% wholly open, she will run everyone off--after all, it's happened before, repeatedly. and Delilah just gleefully pours gasoline on that fire, amplifying the self-sabotage and self-destructive tendencies.

but after all of that empathising, after all the tragic backstory and yes, Bad Things happened to you, Laudna, i get it, i think it is completely possible that even if Delilah weren't riding shotgun in her head, Laudna would be just as much of a mess--i just think it would happen much more slowly, with less bang and more whimper. Delilah just turns up the volume on the ugly.

conversely, i feel there's also cognitive dissonance within Laudna in that she doesn't want to admit that she's becoming more Delilah, that she's abrogating her own autonomy and giving slivers of herself up. because she's worked so hard, recently, to be herself, to become herself and feel comfortable in her own skin. because she has friends that worked so hard to bring her back, friends who don't run from her scariness, friends who like her and want to be around her and who understand even just a little about how awful the world can be to the smallfolk who live in it. and if she admits that Delilah is beginning to suffuse her, then all that work and effort and time? means nothing, doesn't it? means Laudna isn't worth it, means that her self is just something to be absorbed and used and ground into dust. so she clings to the idea of I'm fine, I know what I'm doing, this is my choice because the alternative is too awful to think about.

all that being said, all she had to do with Orym was say 'Can we talk about that sword? Cause it gives me the ick.'

[oceangirl24]

Saudade: Ties that Bind

TW for the this chapter: Mention of a miscarriage, lost child talked about, brief mention of throwing up.

"What happened that's makin' you so concerned about Aud not likin' this poem? Which is very good, I might add."

Shawn stared at his hands and began to pick at the skin around his thumbs. Once again, Jon put his hand on top of his.

"Shawn?"

The teen pulled away and let his hands drop limply into his lap. "Nothin' I ever did was good enough for Mom."

Jon took a deep breath and prepared to hold back his temper and opinion on Virna.

"What happened?"

"Every year I tried really hard to make her happy," he said so quietly Jon had to lean over the table to hear him. "I couldn't really get her anything, you know. But I tried to make her stuff. She seemed pretty happy until I was six. That year she locked herself in the bedroom and I didn't see her all day. The next year she wasn't there and didn't come home for several months. The next year not even Dad was home, so I went to Cory's."

Ignoring his rising anger, Jon tried harder to focus on Shawn. "So Mother's Day was usually spent with Cory's mom?"

Shawn nodded.

"Last year, I tried to make breakfast for her, but I didn't do things right. I burned the toast on accident, and she ranted about Dad smokin' and stinkin' up the house, even though she smokes too." He looked up at Jon briefly, then stared at the window over his shoulder.

"She hates scrambled eggs, but they were all I could make at the time. She tossed my breakfast in the trash. She was more interested in lettin' the whole trailer park know what a loser Dad is. I tried to cheer her up by giving her the card I spent a really long time workin' on. I told her I loved her. She looked at the card, told me my handwritin' is so bad she can't read it and she doesn't like poetry anyway. She shoved it in the trash on top of the eggs and burnt toast. Then she left."

At that moment, Jon despised Virna almost as much as he did Chet. He could not imagine treating any kid the way Virna treated her son even if an ex-girlfriend showed up claiming her kid was his and lied about it.

It was cruel.

Shawn slumped over the table as he continued, "So I went to the Matthews and stayed there. Right before dinner, Mom showed up and acted like nothin' happened that mornin'. We got home and she spent the rest of the night complainin' about how ungrateful I am because I chose to spend Mother's Day with Mrs. Matthews instead of her and how that made her feel like a terrible mother."

Jon put his hand over his mouth and counted to ten so what he really thought about Virna did not come out. After a moment he reached across the table and took hold of the teen's arm.

"You didn't do anythin' wrong, Shawn. You did what every kid would do for their mom if they could. And you know Audrey isn't Virna. You could burn the kitchen down and she'd just teach you the basics of cookin' again and give you a fire safety lesson afterwards."

Shawn frowned at him then his expression softened. "You'd the burn the kitchen down before I would."

Read the Rest:

AO3 FFN WattPad

[just-my-type-x]

i have the best fic idea and it’s just pure fluff

the reader is messing about on the piano on stage because no one is around and then brad catches her and teaches her the chords to married in vegas (so cute!)

they could like make out and stuff at the piano until people come and spot them

Talk Is Cheap

I walk around the stage, making the final touches and making sure every instrument is placed in the right place. I exhale sharply and relax when i see that everything is on point and that me and the team nailed the stage decoration once again.

"Everything looks great on camera too", Dean says from behind me, checking the footage back on his huge camera

"That's music to my ears, Dean", we both chuckle and he leaves backstage, leaving me alone. I turn around to look at the huge venue with the empty seats, my palms sweaty in anticipation for my friends. I've been touring with them and helping them on stage and off stage with different stuff, which made me a key member on their team. Fortunately, i got to get along with everyone and the boys are my best friends. I want to leave the stage also, to get some stuff done backstage, but i stutter and turn around, looking intensely at the piano. I look around one more time to make sure nobody's watching and i give it a go.

I sit at the piano and find the chords i know of one of my favourite songs. I start pushing on the chords, the lovely sound of Talk Is Cheap by Chet Faker being heard all over the stage. I mess one chord up and i smile shyly at my rookie mistake, but start again, humming the lyrics along the melody. I get all caught up in the vibe of the song and i jump when i see Brad a few meters away from the piano, looking at me with a smirk and his arms crossed at his chest.

"That sounds so good, what is it?", he asks smiling and approaches me, leaning on the piano and intertwining his fingers together

"Talk is Cheap", i blush and take my hands off the piano and rest them on my thighs.

"Solid song, it sounds amazing acoustically", i nod at his words and i get up from the piano. "No, don't go. I'm sorry, i didn't want you to think you need to leave. I don't rehearse on the piano until later.", Brad apologises and gives me a reassuring smile. I chuckle.

"I know, don't worry. It's just.. I only started the piano lessons a few days ago and I'm doing online classes of it", i paused and both of us laughed. "i needed to rehearse as homework from the music teacher.", i sit back on the piano and Brad relaxes his posture when he sees i didn't leave

"I bet i can teach you more", he says with a smirk and i raise my eyebrow at him.

"Alright, bet", i smile widely at his confidence.

"Ok, ok", he walks around the piano and sits next to me. I scoot over to give him more space and i place my hands above the piano keys and wait for his instructions. "I will teach you Married In Vegas. So now you're gonna press on these three keys right here", he points to where i have to press on. "And with your pinky, you're gonna press on this third one right here. Be careful not to touch the one in between", he gently takes my pinky between his index and thumb and places it on the right key. I laugh at his way of teaching my finger to reach the right chord.

"You're already a bad teacher of you have to extend my fingers yourself", i giggle and his laughter fills up the venue. I look towards him and take in the amazing sound of his happy and amused voice. The sight of him throwing his head back, laughing and his wide smile remaining on his face after i made the joke made my heart flutter. I felt my cheeks reddening and i turned my attention back to the piano. "Ok, what now?", i ask, a trace of amusement still in my voice

"Now, you're gonna move this hand", Brad grabs my wrist with a feathery touch and positions it on the right keys, "and the left hand, bring it closer to your right one by three chords", i do as instructed and press the keys at the same time. "Great, now, repeat from the start". I follow his words and repeat my movements, but fail miserably.

"I'm sorry, my pinky didn't reach the key", i say as i try again to hit the right chords. Brad chuckles and moves my finger again, so it could reach.

"It's not that hard, maybe if you get longer nails..", he makes fun of me and i let my hands fall on all the keys at ones, making a loud noise. Brad jumps a bit and i laugh, making fun of him.

"Haha, you've got jokes, Bradley.", i joke, but try to remain serious. He smiles at me and i switch my initial position to me sitting with my legs on both sides of the piano chair.

"You've got cute, short fingers, you shouldn't be mad at that.", he copies my position and rests his hands on his thighs, while i check my fingers, my hands in front of our faces.

"You think?"

"They look like little sausages", Brad jokes again and instead of playing hurt, i give in and we both laugh loudly.

"I think you've waited for the right time to bully me, Bradley.", i joke and take my other leg on the opposite side of the piano, ready to get up.

"I've been waiting for several things when it comes to you, to be honest", i turn my head at him, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for more information. Instead of a spoken answer, i see him leaning in towards me. I freeze for a moment, but get i closer to his face, one of my hands cupping his face. He stops in his tracks and only let's our noses to touch, his eyes searching for mine. "One of the things I've been waiting for.. Is this", he almost whispers and slowly gets lower to my lips, pressing his soft lips on mine. I pull him even more towards me and he licks my bottom lip, taking control of our actions. His hands find my waist and pulls my body closer to him, the kiss becoming more and more heated.

"Hiii Brad", a loud voice is heard in the venue and we're both quick to stop what we were doing. We checked the area and saw a few fans coming in, the phones already out for taking pictures and filming. I get up and smile at them, giving Brad a tap on the shoulder to let him know I'm leaving backstage.

"So, who wants to listen to Married In Vegas?", i hear him ask the fans, followed by some excited "wooo's"

.

.

.

This is the song, i know it's weird how it comes up, but it's the only way u can find this specific version. I hope u liked it ♥️

Pic from Pinterest

[mynameismckenziemae]

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 13

(previous part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OFC

Summary: You finally get some answers the night before the wedding and once again, your mom once again makes her presence known.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, a little oral (m receiving), p in v, a single ‘good girl’, dirty talk, inappropriate actions in a vehicle, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“Hey sweetheart, time to get up,” Jake murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“No, not yet,” you groan, burying your face further into the pillow. Your head hurts and you feel like you swallowed cotton.

Jake chuckles. “We’ve got a lot to do today. Here’s some coffee and breakfast. I put some medicine there once you get something in your stomach.”

“Thank you, baby,” you sigh, sitting up with a wince. “How are you not hungover?”

“I started drinking water 2 hours before we left. Someone had to get you home safe,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing your hair back as you sip coffee. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You reach for his hand. “I can’t wait.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Thankfully you feel better after breakfast and a shower. The day passes quickly between decorating the church, massage, and nail appointments with Natasha and Emma, and the rehearsal dinner. You and Jake get a kick of out watching the longing looks Bradley and Emma give each other throughout the rehearsal and following dinner.

“Bet they fuck before Bradley leaves for California?” You murmur, nudging Jake with your elbow as Emma laughs at something he said.

“Gross,” he says with a grimace. “It sure is good to see her laugh like that again though.

“I agree. Maybe he’ll be the one to bring her back,” you say, hopeful.

“Especially if he gets that other instructing job at Kingsville. It’d be nice to see him every day again,” Jake muses.

Bradley had interviewed for it the day after he landed, earlier in the day before he’d met Emma.

“I wonder if he’s told her that he applied,” you think out loud.

“Not sure, but I’m not saying anything about it,” he replies.

“Me either.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

As much as you don’t want to be apart, you and Jake decide to not see each other again until you’re walking down the aisle. Jake is spending the night with Bradley at the hotel but Emma said she’ll sleep over so you aren’t lonely.

The night is filled with laughter as you watch chick flicks and talk about old times with each other and your moms.

Emma grows quiet on the other side of Cash who made himself at home on the couch between you. You reach to turn off the lamp before settling back in. A few minutes go by and you watch the Notebook playing softly.

“Charlie? Are you awake?”

“Mhmm.”

“I think…that I like Bradley,” she says quietly, as if she’s scared to say it.

“That’s a good thing, right?” You ask, peeking your head up over Cash to look at her, surprised when you see tears in her eyes. “Oh Em, what’s wrong?”

You haven’t seen her cry in years. Even at your mom’s funeral, and they were nearly as close as you were.

“I think it’s time I told you what really happened with me and Chet,” she replies, voice shaking.

A few hours later you fall asleep with a new understanding and your hand still in hers atop of Cash

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You wake up to your phone buzzing the next morning, your hand still in hers.

Jake: Happy wedding day, beautiful. Only a few hours until I can call you Mrs. Seresin. Can’t wait to see you. I love you so much.

Charlie: I can’t wait either, I’ve been waiting for my whole life for this. I love you.

Emma begins to stir.

“Morning,” you murmur when she opens her eyes.

“Good morning, happy wedding day!” She smiles, stretching. “Let’s get you ready!”

“Let’s,” you reply, squeezing her hand. “I won’t say anything to Jake, but you will tell him, right?”

“I will,” she nods. “Once you guys get back from the honeymoon. I probably should’ve waited to tell you too, I just-I really like Bradley and I felt like I-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. “I’m so glad you told me. I wish I could’ve been there for you sooner though.”

“I know you would’ve been if I had told you. I love you, Char. I’m so glad I can officially call you my sister.”

“Love you too, Emma Lou.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

The hours pass quickly and before you know it, you’re in your dress waiting to get married in the church that opened their arms to a young, unwed mother-to-be without blinking an eye.

“Your mama wanted me to give you this on your wedding day,” Ruth says, handing you a letter. “I’m gonna give you a few minutes. I’ll go give Jake his.”

You smile, of course, she wrote one for Jake too.

My Charlie,

Happy wedding day, sweetheart. I’m so glad you and Jake finally figured it out (yes, I wrote another letter in case you two didn’t). It hurts knowing I can’t be there in person on your special day, helping you get ready, walking you down the aisle (even though Tom will do a great job), but I’ll be there in spirit. I’ll always be here for you.

You hold it to your chest when you can’t make the rest through your tears and get a hint of her perfume.

Ruth and Emma come back shortly to see you one last time before the ceremony starts.

“She’s here, baby. She’s always here,” Ruth murmurs, wiping a stray tear and helping you fix your makeup before she gives a final hug to be seated.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Your heart skips when Tom knocks shortly after.

“Oh Charlie, you look beautiful,” he says softly, wiping a tear as you turn. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath and nod before placing your hand in his elbow. “Let’s go.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

There’s not a dry in the church as you walk down the aisle towards Jake, not that you notice; he’s the only one you see.

“You look amazing,” he whispers, tears streaming down his face as he takes your hand from his dad’s.

“You do too,” you give him a watery smile.

You answer when you’re supposed to and you repeat the vows, but you don’t remember a word that’s said; you’re too lost in Jake’s loving gaze.

Soon the pastor is pronouncing you husband and wife and the man of your dreams dips you for a kiss.

The two of you stop in your tracks at the same time at the end of the aisle, spotting it at the same time. There’s a cardinal perched on the windowsill; as if it was watching the whole time.

“I knew Lisa would be here,” he murmurs in awe.

“Me too,” you whisper, tears filling your eyes again.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You greet your guests quickly before heading back Jake’s parents for pictures.

“Why are we stopping?” You ask when Jake pulls into a field entrance surrounded by trees on the way. He shifts the truck into park and reaches for you.

“Because I can’t go another minute without being inside my beautiful wife,” he answers, pulling you in for a kiss. “Your ass looks incredible in this dress.”

His hands are everywhere at once; the back of your neck, squeezing your breasts through the silky material, rucking the bottom of your dress to find your bare cheeks.

“These feel pretty,” He murmurs as he traces the silky thong string by your hip.

“They are. You can see them tonight,” you agree as you unbutton his dress pants and pull his straining erection out before pulling your dress up above your hips and straddling him. “But I need you right now.”

You reach down and pull the damp material to the side before sinking down with a satisfied sigh.

“You always feel so good, somehow even better now that you’re my wife. Fuck!” he groans, fingers finding your clit under your dress to rub tight circles.

“Mhmm,” you moan in agreement, your head falling back as his lips find your neck. You ride him faster, knowing you don’t have much time.

You don’t need much time though. You clench around him with a cry when he nudges the cup of your dress aside to latch onto your nipple.

He grits his teeth with a shudder, fighting off his own release as you tighten rhythmically around his cock. He guides you off him when you come down, much to your confusion.

“What-why didn’t you?” You trail off, biting your lip as you watch him jerk off; he looks wrecked.

“Don’t want to…ruin your pretty dress,” he pants, tensing as he gets closer.

“Ruin my lipstick then,” you reply, leaning down and sucking the head of his cock into your mouth with a moan; tasting the mixture of both your arousal.

“Oh God, Charlie!” he groans, weaving his hands into your curled hair as he fills your mouth with a few jerky thrusts of his hips.

You swallow it all with enthusiasm until he begins to twitch with overstimulation.

“Greedy girl,” he murmurs with lust-filled eyes after pulling you up by your hair. “You can have your fill later…if you’re a good girl.”

“Mmm,” you hum before kissing him deeply with tongue and teeth before pulling back. “What happens if I’m not?”

He chuckles darkly and it sends a fresh wave of arousal between your legs. “We’re going to a quiet cabin in the woods for our honeymoon tomorrow. No one will be around to hear you scream,” he replies, leaning down to kiss your neck. “…cry,” he trails his lips up to your ear, “…beg for mercy. Or see the marks I’ve been dying to leave on your body.”

You shiver at his words, startling when a horn honks behind you.

“Y’all better get a move on. I held them off at the church as long as I could, but everyone’s on their way now!” Emma calls from the passenger seat of her truck.

Jake sighs and gives a thumbs up out the window before tucking his already-hard cock back into his pants.

“I suppose we should go, Mr. Seresin,” you say, sitting back against the seat with a sigh of your own.

Back on the road, his hand finds yours in the seat between you and brings it to his lips.

“Love you, Mrs. Seresin.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: Well, they’re married and that’s the end! They will be in Unbroken as well.

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!):

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

@littlezee80

@emma8895eb

[masterqwertster]

More AU thoughts:

BH C2 Class Swap and the Gods

Man religion and god thoughts get weird with the changed classes of this AU. Chet's a paladin, Imogen is an unwitting Predathos cleric, and Ashton quit being a cleric pre-campaign then retook the class shortly before "saving the gods" becomes a debate.

Some of the things that are happening:

Ashton takes a while to warm up to Chetney or really trust him at all. The old fucker is a paladin of the god that left them broken on the ground. So in the early days, Ashton is probably intentionally malicious in his assholery to Chet. Luckily, Chetney is old and has very few true fucks left to give, and is also as good at taking shit as giving it

Imogen's "divine" magic probably feels weird to anyone who's felt regular divine magic before. Mostly because Predathos is more anti-divine (it at least has resistance/immunity for god hunting). So cleric powering is probably the digested power of the two gods it did eat before being sealed, otherwise the anti-divine stuff might not do any healing at all...

Discovering Predathos the God-Eater

Imogen discovering that a god-eater is her god/patron is a mess. What does it mean to have divine gifts from something that will eat the other gods? What happens if she stands in opposition to releasing the one who grants her power? (can't answer that one until we get a better idea of Predathos, probably from the Reilora once we go to the moon) Is her status as a cleric a sign that she should be fighting for the Ruby Vanguard and not everyone else?

Like poor girl, all these existential questions from one reveal

Ashton really doesn't know how to feel about the "Release the God-Eater!" plan. On one hand, they're really not happy with the All-Hammer, but maybe not enough to kill him, just bloody his nose or something. On the other hand, is their new galaxy "god" even in danger? Ashton doesn't know what it is, the Luxon doesn't talk. All he knows is that it supports him and he's got faith in its chaos.

Chetney is solidly against the destruction of the gods. He's gotten good help out of the All-Hammer for years, decades, centuries(?). That's not folk deserving death, even if they fail people at times. No one and nothing is perfect. That's why you always need to be improving your craft

Side Note: Ashton and Chetney definitely had a sit down talk about the All-Hammer and what happened to Ashton after the Revival Quest given current and former worshipper statuses. Results: Chetney's maybe a bit more skeptical, Ashton a bit more accepting. They both got to each other at least a little bit

Split Teams

Definitely some odd vibes in Team Wildemount with Imogen's Predathos cleric deal when they explain the whole mess to Deanna and FRIDA. Once more bringing up the question "You're powered by a god-eater. Why do you care if the gods die?"

Which might lead Imogen to making a real effort to get in touch with the Stormlord, actually get out from under Predathos's full sway. Because she doesn't want to work with the Vanguard/Predathos when losing the gods might kill her Laudna. But she doesn't want to lose her magic either, so she needs a new god/patron. She's trying the Stormlord because she's got his symbol for her cover, and lightning is sort of her deal too

Gods don't really reject new believers. But Imogen is definitely going to be tested before the Stormlord gives her a drop of power. It's both his personality and a precaution in these trying times

Chetney probably thinks it's extra sexy that Deanna became a holy woman since he's a holy man, in as much as clerics and paladins are as such

Over in Team Issylra, Ashton gets to confound people with his belief in a nameless entity that doesn't even actually comprehensibly communicate with him. And somehow it works enough to produce cleric magic (I'm thinking 7 levels blood hunter/2 levels cleric for Ashton at this point)

This confusion is not helped by Ashton's Hybrid Form being obviously elemental in nature while Abbadina is spouting anti-god, pro-primordial rhetoric

Ashton has very little intention of being less confusing because they're getting their kicks where they can by being a little shit about it. Laudna supports because it is funny and strange and maybe takes her mind off of worrying about Imogen

Ashton also has a lot more rage at Bor'dor for the attack after his sob story. Ashton has fucking been there: left without family and not saved by the god they had faith in. But they didn't take it out on innocent, uninvolved people, people who had no part in the events that broke them. Didn't join a fucking doomsday cult over it either. Anger is supposed to have a specific target that is the only thing you hit, not just lash out at everything and think that's right and good

[sylvanfreckles]

No. 19: Revenge (Alt 6)

Part 19 of Deck the Hells

Fandom: Critical Role Rating: T Warnings: kidnapping, torture, beating, branding/burning

Summary: An eye for an eye, a mark for a mark. Nobody fucks with Bell's Hells. (Sequel to No. 18) (Read on AO3)

...

“It was Artana Voe.”

Imogen stared tiredly across the table to Ashton. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“Yeah? Think about,” they rocked forward on their chair, so the front legs banged against the ground, and counted off on their fingers. “First, whoever snatched Orym had to be fast and sneaky enough that he didn’t see it coming. Second, he just turns back up at the Soot and Swill after two days, the place her fucking sister owns. Third, that’s a god-damned Treshi crest fucking burned into his back, and who do we know who has ties to the Treshi family?”

“Keep your voice down,” Imogen hissed. She glanced worriedly at the door to Orym’s room, where Chetney was standing guard.

“He’s got a point,” Laudna interjected. She leaned forward on the table, dark eyes fixed on Imogen’s. “Even if she’s not connected, she might know something.”

Imogen sighed and folded her arms. “Well, she’s not gonna want to see me.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Ashton folded their arms, fingers tapping against their bicep. “She’s not gonna like seeing any of us, but she doesn’t get a choice.”

They stared around the table for a moment. Two days of fruitless searching had set nerves on edge, until Pretty finally flagged them down near the Dreamscape Theatre. None of them knew for sure how Orym wound up at the Soot and Swill, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence.

“Well, I’m going,” Fearne spoke up. “I never liked her anyway.”

“You never met her,” Imogen said.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t not like her.”

“I think I should stay,” Fresh Cut Grass added. “Just in case.”

Ashton’s eyes flicked away from Imogen’s. “Chet?”

He already had a chisel in hand. “Say the word!”

Imogen looked at Laudna, who gave her a sad smile. “He’s the first to protect us, every time. It’s high time we return the favor.”

“I’ll stay here,” Imogen replied. “I can guard the door and send y’all a message if anything happens.”

Laudna nodded. “Should we ask Dorian?”

Ashton gave loud, derisive snort. “If you think you can pry him away, go right ahead.”

“Let him stay,” Imogen added. “Orym…I think he needs the comfort right now.”

“All right!” Laudna held her fist up. “Team Revengeance!”

“We are not calling it that,” Ashton said, jabbing a finger at her.

“Team Firestorm!”

“No!”

“Team…”

“Enough!”

…

Despite her best efforts, Laudna felt some misgivings as they approached the Soot and Swill. While she had no doubt that Artana Voe had been involved in Orym’s abduction, she was starting to wonder if this was their best course of action. Would the uniya woman be expecting them? Would she have backup?

Fearne looped an arm through hers, pulling her out of her dark thoughts. “We can always set the bar on fire,” she suggested.

“What about Pretty?”

“He’s a good cook; he could find a job anywhere.”

Imogen would probably tell them to try to talk first…but Imogen wasn’t here. Laudna wanted nothing more than to kick the door in and unleash hell on anyone who stood in their way, but they probably needed to be diplomatic.

They had reached the Smolder Spire in record time, Ashton leading the way with long, angry strides. They made it to the tavern, shoved through the door, and slammed a fist on the bar hard enough to make the bartender jump.

“Artana Voe,” Ashton demanded.

Preio Madali, the owner and Artana’s sister, flinched at his tone of voice. “She’s not here.”

“Bullshit!”

“She left town!” Preio folded her arms, fighting to maintain her bravado in the face of Ashton’s fury. “Soon as…well, two days ago. Took a job with a convoy headed to the Heartmoor.”

Ashton glowered at her. “I don’t buy it.”

Fearne lifted one hand, flames dancing on her fingertips. “Ashton?”

“Wait, Fearne,” Laudna tugged on her arm. “Hold on. Preio, right?”

The bartender nodded; eyes glued to the flames in Fearne’s hand. “That’s right.”

“You know what your sister did, yes?”

Preio’s shoulders slumped, and her eyes flicked over to Laudna’s. Laudna tried to smile, but it must have come out twisted as the uniya woman shuddered and looked back to Ashton. “I didn’t know until she brought him back here, I swear. I don’t like to get involved in her business.”

“But you let her hide out here,” Ashton cut in.

“She’s family.”

Laudna stepped forward, next to Ashton. She breathed out, letting a little of her unsettling nature wash over Preio. “And Orym is our family. So you can see our dilemma.”

“You’re lying,” Chetney piped up. He’d been invisible since before they’d entered, and Preio jumped when he reappeared next to her. “Scent’s strong in the back room. Couldn’t’ve left more than three hours ago.”

Ashton leaned onto the bar, the glass in his head throwing off sparks. “That so.”

Preio backed up, eyes darting between the four of them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” Fearne said. She laid one hand on the scarred wood of the bar top and gently ran her fingers along the grain. “Close your eyes, Chetney,” she added, bringing the flames in her other hand down toward the wood.

“Wait!” Preio held out her hands. “Yes, she was here…she left not too long ago. She really did take a job with a convoy, though. They’ve probably already left.”

“Do we believe her?” Ashton muttered to Laudna, eyes still trained on Preio.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. She leaned forward on the bar, fixing Preio in place with her dark gaze. “Why?”

Preio wet her lips, unable to look away.

Laudna widened her eyes, letting a little of her form of dread seep through. “Why?” she asked again, louder, more commanding.

“For me!” Preio snapped. She rested her hands on the bar, fists closed so tight her knuckles were white. “Diolas Treshi…I don’t know how he knew things, but he did. She did it to save me,” she said firmly, eyes flicking over to Ashton. “You’d do the same.”

“Yeah,” Ashton agreed. “We would.”

Their fist flew forward, catching Preio on the side of the face and knocking her back. Laudna reached forward, not quite knowing what she was going for, and when Ashton swung his arm back again, he accidentally smashed his elbow into her nose.

She stumbled back with a yelp, blood already pouring out of her nose.

“Shit! Sorry!” Ashton grabbed the not-so-clean towel off the end of the bar and held it against Laudna’s face. “Fuck. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Laudna waved them off, holding the towel over her gushing nose. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson!” she added, woozily pointing at Preio. Ashton had hit her hard enough to make her head spin, and if they hadn’t caught her arm to hold her steady she might not be standing.

“Laudna?” Fearne rested a hand on her shoulder, a small spurt of healing warmth flowing into her body. “I just have one question,” she added, turning back toward Preio. The uniya backed away, eyes fixed on the flames in Fearne’s hand. “Where the fuck is his sword?”

Preio’s eyes flicked guiltily to the backroom and back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No. You don’t get to say that,” Ashton countered. “Sword. Now.”

…

Some time later, Team Revengeance trooped back into the Krook House, where Imogen and FCG were awaiting their arrival.

“How did it go?” Imogen asked, as Fearne carefully set Orym’s sword and shield down on the table.

“She wasn’t there, but we left a message,” Laudna replied gleefully. Her nose was still swollen, obviously the wrong shape, but she wasn’t letting that dampen her spirits. “No one fucks with Bell’s Hells!”

“Tell me you didn’t burn the bar down,” Imogen moaned, dropping her head into her hands.

“Okay,” Fearne said, enigmatically. “We won’t.”

[muerder-snail]

Learn to love again

Warning ⚠️ self harm and unalive thoughts

The sound of silence filled my room, my brand new room for you see I was picked up by a group of others like me chosen by evil or dark deities and made into creepy freaks like me a good example was tang yun he was told me how painful it was to be able to suddenly go from normal hearing to being able to hear past, present and future and how even after it was still painful leaving him with six ears instead of two and not to mention the black and purple eyes. There were a lot of us who were given our powers through pain and hardship and those who have become animals I feel must have had the worst of it but none will talk about it.

It was eair the quiet it made me miss the time I lived with Joe, his laughter, his smile, his voice, but I would never hear that again because of those mirrormon who ripped him away from me! A sigh left my lips as I played with the feathers of my wings, in a way I was glad Chet had chosen me to be his esper. If it wasn’t for him I would probably be dead as well whether by my own hand or by those monsters.

“Hmm I wonder what would happen if i-” and like that a shot of pain like an injection went through my wing as a small amount of blood fell from the fresh wound.

“Must be easier when the bird is dead” I tilted my head looking at the dark purple feather, it reminded me of a reven. “Hmm I think I’ll turn it into a quill… Hm, why does that name sound familiar?… oh well” I sighed as I spoke, giving a breath to my words, even with no one to hear me I still looked around as if looking for attention. That was the downside of being the god of hates esper, no one wants to be near you.