#jack do more things your family disapproves of please

[nobodymitskigabriel]

I don't actually ship Jack and Sleipnir, but I do think it'd be cool if he had a friend who was also a bastard freak. Plus the spawn of satan riding an eight-legged horse into battle 💞💞

[alyakthedorklord]

I’m having dramatic thoughts about Damian being born to Fem!Bruce ok I’m having THOUGHTS

(TW for alluding to Damian’s conception being nonconsensual)

Okay so set the stage of our Drama- Fem!Bruce (or just AFAB idc) is out on patrol or something and League Parent (Either Talia as in canon, or Ra’s if we’re feeling the creepy old man tonight) drops Damian off with “Hey, watch our son that you birthed and then I stole and let you think was dead for ten years, there’s some infighting in the league.”

(If we’re using Ra’s as dad then Talia is absolutely trying to kill Damian for the position of heir)

Bryce is, understandably, shocked. Her other children? Even more so. Because what do you mean you had a biological child? How did we not know about this?!

Damian isn’t old enough to be pre-robin unless he was cryogenically frozen. Did Bryce really hide a whole fucking pregnancy from them?

Dick is screaming, Jason shows up because he has to see this shit for himself, Bryce is standing in silence, staring at the results of every single test she can think of to confirm that yes, this is her son, this is her Damian, all the info matches up…

Tim tries to speak up, but Jason just turns on him, asking if he’s ready to be replaced too. Bryce didn’t even have to go looking this time!

Tim looks him dead in the eye and points out the birthdate(and death date) on file for Damian Wayne.

It’s exactly eight days before Jason was taken in.

How did Dick and Jason not know about this?

Because they weren’t there.

In the short period of time when Dick was striking out on his own, and before Bryce picked up Jason, League Baby Daddy of your choosing shows up and takes advantage. A simple greeting, a spiked drink, a blurry night, and a pregnancy test later…

Bruce is, as always, in any universe, is terrible at communication. But honestly she can be excused in this case. How exactly do you tell your wayward son ward that, after chasing him off because he was “being reckless” and “putting himself in danger,” you’ve gone and gotten taken advantage of, trusted someone that you had absolutely ZERO business trusting, and now you’re pregnant with an Al Ghul baby? And you’ve decided to keep it? That this isn’t you replacing him or demanding he return, because you understand his need for space, but also you desperately want him back with you because you’re scared but you can never admit it?

How do you do that in a text? Because Dick is not answering the phone.

You don’t. Thats a conversation you have face to face. So the messages Bryce leaves are all “there are some changes and i’d like to talk to you” “there may be a new member of the family soon” “please answer me chum”

Dick doesn’t answer.

Meanwhile, Gotham crime is being weird because “hey robins gone! Dynamic duo is out!” And Bryce is being careful because of her belly and sometimes she has to take breaks and hormones are bullying her and nothing is going her way right now.

And them she goes into labor too soon.

And something goes wrong (League Baby Daddy happens) and she’s told her baby is dead, and now she’s lost two children.

She recovers, and goes back out onto the streets, taking her rage and pain out on the criminals that got a little too bold with her in a hospital bed…

And then there’s a street rat jacking the tires off the Batmobile.

The fucking audacity. The guts. The challenge in his bright blue eyes, the sneer on his lips, the shaggy black hair. Skin just a bit darker than hers, not quite an Al Ghul’s deep olive but somewhere in the middle.

Is this what her Damian would have looked like? Is this what her son would have grown up to be?

Maybe its the hormones, maybe she’s projecting. She knows its a bad idea, but Bryce takes the kid home. Alfred gives her a knowing and slightly disapproving look, but accepts the new child with open arms, because there’s worse things. Jason fits in easily, and soon enough, Batman has a Robin again, and Bryce is smiling again, and begins to heal from the pain of losing Damian.

But Dick? Dick is PISSED.

Upon seeing news of a new Robin/Wayne, he finally looks though his messages, and comes to the wrong conclusion that Bryce was looking for a kid to replace him this whole time. She might have tried to get his input, but had eventually made a decision like this without him. And so he’s back, and he’s angry, and Bryce gets defensive because Jason is a good kid and she can’t use her dead baby to win an argument, not when the wound is so fresh.

So life continues. Jason dies, comes back, is angry because he listened in on a few arguments and now ALSO thinks Bryce actively hunted him down to be Robin, and now she’s done the same with Tim.

Bryce keeps quiet, because how is she supposed to explain after all these years? Jason is right to be angry. She let her emotions get the better of her and dragged a sweet boy into her life. The loss of all three if her children was her own fault, because she put him into the line of fire. There’s no excuse for that.

So years pass. Tempers settle somewhat, Bryce holds her grief close to her chest because she can’t do that to her children, but… then Damian is back. And it all explodes.

The story comes out in bits and pieces. Tim figures out a timeline based on the rest of the info in the file, and Bryce and Alfred slowly fill it in.

And like- they’re all still angry, and it is justified, because what the fuck, Bryce. But also…

Dick is horrified. He had been so angry, so so angry, reading those messages that he now knows, with this new information, were a cry for help. Bryce had been desperate and scared and wanted nothing more than to just talk to him after their fight, and when he had come back after something like this had happened he had immediately started another fight.

Jason isn’t sure how to feel. He hadn’t been taken in to be a replacement soldier, he had been taken in to be a replacement son. What is he supposed to do with that? Knowing that Bryce had seen him at his worst, and taken him in and shoved down her grief to help him?

Tim is wondering if every time Bryce backed away with an unreadable expression, it hadn’t been keeping herself emotionally distant, it was grief for the sons she had lost.

Steph is realizing that Bruce wasn’t lying, when Steph had to give her own baby up and Bryce had hugged her and said “I understand.”

Damian is sitting in a corner wondering what the ever-loving FUCK is going on. Why is everyone crying this is pathetic. Father take him home he prefers the threat of imminent death.

[harlowtales]

Y/N feels trapped with a baby on the way and Jack distances himself to think

18 Plus Only - Adult Themes and Content

Nobody knew you were pregnant yet. You asked Jack to wait to even tell his family as it had just passed 3months and you didn’t want to jinx it. He was being super paranoid not letting you do anything, and barely go anywhere. He was hyper about germs and the cleaning lady had to be extra careful about how she disinfected every surface.

“Baby come on wash your fucking hands” Jack said one day exasperated and whipping out wipes to wipe your fingers like a child.

“Jack I can lick my fingers I’m at home.” You shot back with your mouth full of popcorn. “Hey when are we going out tonight?” You asked casually assuming you would be going to The Hub with your fiancée and asking to see what time you should get ready. Pregnancy was already making you more tired than usual and you wanted to take a nap before you left.

“Uhh WE?” Jack asked you back

“Yes. When are we leaving?” You repeated

“Baby.” Jack said calmly and sat down looking you in the eye “You won’t be going.”

“What??” You fumed “What the fu…” you firmly clamped your mouth as Jack was trying to not swear around the future baby.

He shot you a disapproving glance. “Please babe, stay home from now on k? Can’t have you in the mix anymore.” Jack explained and thought that would be that with a kiss on your forehead.

“Oh the fuck I’m not going. I’m not sitting home pregnant while you go out and girls seeing you ALONE?? Are you mental?” You raged.

“You don’t go on tour with me and I behave” Jack said to his credit. “You trust me I know you do. You just want to party.”

“No…um not true.” You said as he caught you in your true motives. You loved being out and hanging with everyone. “C’mon baby…Pleaaaassee” You begged flashing your megawatt smile and fluttering your eyelashes.

“That ain’t gone work.” Jack said sternly

“What about this.” You said going down on your knees and starting to pull down his sweatpants.

“Ok baby stop. You’d suck dick to get to go?” Jack said laughing.

“I’m going to be trapped for months after the baby is born.” You said pouting to which Jack finally relented.

“Ok mama you can go.” He said “But I’ll take a rain check on that sloppy toppy, I got some stuff to do before we leave.”

You took a nap and woke up around 6PM to get ready to go. Excitedly you texted your friends Jack actually said yes. You were only slightly showing with a hint of a bump. Most people had no idea you were pregnant, and you weren’t a heavy drinker so the fact that you turned down alcohol the last few weeks didn’t raise any eyebrows either. Urban knew and a couple of Jack’s friends who did security for him when he went out. This was to ensure you had extra protection.

You put your hair up in a ponytail with a longer extension for fun and put on a jumpsuit that wasn’t too tight to give the secret away. To go to the Hub you didn’t have to dress up. Jack thought you looked adorable which got him going even more than you looking ultra sexy.

“Mmmm” he said looking you up and down and pulling you close. “Can I jump in your jumper with you?”

“You passed on a blow job remember?” You reminded him as he kissed you.

Just then your driver and security buzzed up, it was time to go have fun one last time.

The energy of the club is what you needed. You dodged Jack and his friends successfully until the club started getting full. Jack sent Timo to hunt you down and bring you to where he was heading to behind “the wall”. “The wall” was the literal wall Jack’s friends formed in front of him when he went out to clubs so no random people could get too close to him.

Unfortunately for you who had just been convinced by your friends (who didn’t know you were 3 mos pregnant) to dance on the bar and you took the challenge, not because you were drunk but because you just wanted one last crazy thing to do.

“Whooo!! Go Y/N!!” They encouraged you as you twerked a little sticking your tongue out with plans to come down right away but Timo caught you and Jack spotted you texting Timo furiously “BRO TELL HER TO GET DAFUQ DOWN!” Jack texted in all angry caps.

You were in the process of coming down when you met Timo face to face as you touched the ground with his help. “Y/N! You are in trouble young lady.” He said sternly “Come with me.” He said taking you by the arm and whisking you off to where Jack was waiting beet red. You looked back at your friends who felt guilty for egging you on.

“Don’t” Jack said turning his head away as you went up on your tipi toes for a kiss. “I can’t even talk to you right now.”

“It’s called having fun old man.” You snapped “ I went up there on a dare for 2 mins”

“Can you act like a mother for 2 fucking seconds?” Jack angrily whispered. People nearby were trying to hear what was going on but fortunately the thundering bass drowned him out.

“Maybe I would act more like a mom if I wasn’t trapped!” You shot back hurting Jack deeply. All he had been doing was protecting you. He said nothing in return and sipped on his water to calm down. He reasoned you were being emotional given you were pregnant.

“Ok fine. 2 can play this ignoring game.” You said to him to which he pretended not to hear knowing it drove you nuts.

“Ok girly let’s go to the bathroom.” Urban’s girlfriend said taking you away to talk about what was going on with you. It was not like you to be so irresponsible. For once she agreed with Jack. “What’s going on mama?” Azura said kindly hugging you.

“He tells me what to do CONSTANTLY!” You said bursting into tears.

“He does always tell you what to do. Jack is like a stern father, I don’t know how you stand it.” Azura said trying to influence you to jump to Jack’s defence. Her and Urban had just got back together and she didn’t want to see you go through fighting with Jack while pregnant.

“Jack is not a stick in the mud” You said in his defence which Azura knew you would. “He is just trying to…oh I see what you’re doing. Nice one, making me realize my man just wants the best for me and his baby and maybe dancing on a bar is a bad idea.”

“Bingo!! You catch on quick” Azura said sarcastically making you laugh.

“Ok girl let me go apologize to my man.” You said feeling horrible for how you had spoken to Jack.

He was vibing in a corner not talking to anyone. The way you had acted had him down. He had fulfilled his obligation to appear at the club so he was just waiting for you to get out of the bathroom so the both of you could go home. He should have stuck to his guns and made you stay back. Now gossip blogs were going to be reporting about your 5 secs dancing on the bar and the obvious argument the two of you had. When they did the math months later and found out you were pregnant when you were up there, it’s going to be a mini-disaster.

“Ready? We’re leaving early, I have an early morning.” Jack lied.

“Baby…Jackman” You said reaching up to turn his sulking face to yours “I will never do anything like that again. I love you”

“Babe…no come on” He said avoiding your kiss as you reached around his neck to pull him down to you. He was really irritated and sad. It took you by surprise that you couldn’t work your magic and smooth it over. Urban and Azura exchanged concerned glances as you and Jack made your exit.

He was silent all the way home which thankfully wasn’t far from the condo. It was so awkward. When you got back you didn’t push him to talk to you and got ready for bed. Usually by now you guys would be joking again already. Jack didn’t come to bed with you. He sat in his studio room listening to a beat on loop with a pen and pad out. You tossed and turned while you heard the muffled beat through the bedroom walls. When you tipi toed into the studio you found him laying on the floor staring at the ceiling like he often did when he felt depression setting in. There was a whole bunch of scrunched up balls of paper that he had missed the waste paper basket with.

You said nothing and laid down on the floor in the same position next to him. At first he didn’t notice you and then glanced over but maintained his silence. You took a chance and reached out to hold his hand. He took it slowly and held it gently giving you a sense of relief. “Nice beat.” You said quietly

“Thanks. Clay made it.” He said expressionless

“Writer’s block?” You asked referencing all the crumpled up paper on the floor.

“Um sort of” He said turning to you propped up on his elbow “Do you believe in destiny baby?”

“To a degree. I’m not sure.” You said honestly turning to him. “Why?”

“I dreamt you and then I met you.” He said with a whimsical smile taking you by surprise and giving you tingles. “And now you have a part of me inside of you. We’re bonded forever now. Do you understand that means everything to me?”

“Not until now. I…I have felt trapped and sometimes…replaceable.” You said blinking to hold back tears coming.

“I could never do better than you.” Jack said moving closer and kissing you passionately. “Will you just trust that I always mean to do right by you?”

“Yes Jack I will.” You nodded as tears started to fall down your cheeks and he wiped them.

“I will always be here for this moment and wipe every tear as it falls.” He vowed in a near whisper. That’s it!! He said suddenly making you jump. “That’s the song! I’m unstuck! Thank you baby.” Jack said kissing you roughly on the head and leaping up to grab his pen and pad.

“Happy to help.” You said sarcastically “Don’t stay up too late.” You said yawning and heading to bed.

“Oh I’m coming to get some don’t worry” he said looking at your ass in your pyjama pants as you walked away.

@itsyagirljaz @okaaay-mice

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

The Family Jewels

Dear gentlest readers,

It has come to this authors attention of a new Duke in town. The Duke of Magelight , Luciano Kilian, traveling from Magelight he must be in search for something. Ladies before you sink your teeth into him he does not wish to be wed. A scandal is in town lurking in the shadows waiting to attack a precious household. But what could one do if no one is accompany? The Ton seems eager to receive more news on the latest events of the Duke.

Yours Truly Penelope Bridgerton

Upon the Featherington household in the drawing room, there sat Lady Featherington with the latest news.

"My Lady" Varley entered with concern lacing her voice causing Portia to look at her quickly. Furrowing her brows she stands up quickly.

"Portia" a man said as he entered causing Lady Featherington to stiffen up.

"How dare you show yourself here!" Portia angrily stared at the man. "Varley escort him out. Mr. Jack has over come his stay." Portia turned her back walking toward the couches and fireplace.

"Sir, if you will please" she heard Varley say as she held her breath. She could hear the footsteps of someone approaching rather quickly. Turning around she was met with the chest of a man. With a small gasp she looked up to a raging man.

"Portia. I must say you'll be a perfect wife." He nearly growled as he invaded more of her space.

"I asked you to leave, Mr. Jack" Portia growled at him. "I am not going to marry someone like you." Portia tried to walk away from the man only for him to grab her waist and force her back into place. "I will do no such thing." He leaned down trying to close the distance more and more.

Crack

An echo of a slap sounded in the room.

"I have told you leave and you refuse to do so. Never put your hands me again." Portia looked at the man. Varley nearly jogging out of the room to the front door as she heard the youngest daughter of the Lady of the household.

"Mrs.Bridgerton and Mr.Bridgerton. I believe your mother is in need of help" Varley opened the door in a rush causing both Penelope and Colin to jump.

A whimper came from a lady in the drawing room upon entering Jack could be seen standing over Lady Featherington. Portia trying to push away the man as he continued to kiss his way down her neck.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Penelope and Colin both barge into the room unannounced. Jack had backed off the lady in front of him. "I thought you left town cousin Jack. Long time ago."

"Ah well I am courting your mother. My dear cousin." Jack said as he wiped his mouth and fixed himself.

"Varley get my bath ready." Portia said as she shivered. "I have not agreed to whatever your scheming at Jack." Portia wiped her neck and chest as there was some wet spots. "In fact I suggest you leave and never return." Portia walked toward Colin and Penelope. "I would never marry again." Portia looked at him with distaste and disapproval.

Penelope looked at her cousin in disgust and Colin balled his fists up. With a huff he past them all and walked out with rage. Immediately after the door closed Penelope couldn't help but turn to her mama.

"Mama are you alright?" Penelope asked taking her mother's hands into hers. "I am perfectly fine. I just want to get this ugly feeling off of me." Portia sighed as she looked at her daughter and son-in-law. "Thank you" she whispered as she walked away toward her wash room. "Now we have something worth about." Colin sighed as he looked at the smaller lady beside him.

"Mama has a ball to attend this evening shall we attend with her?" Penelope asked worried something else would happen if she were to stay home.

"We shall let her attend alone to see the future outcome." He smiled at the way his wife was concerned over her mother.

"Of course my dear husband." Penelope gave him a small smile. While upstairs Portia was scrubbing herself clean of the man that tried to touch her inappropriately. She couldn't keep herself from groaning as she thought of the possiblity of what would go around the Ton.

"Ma'am?" Varley said causing her to lose her thoughts. Portia looked at the lady.

"What color should I pick out for you this time?" Varley said as she started walking toward the closet full of dresses.

"The violet dress" Portia sighed as she got out of the water and wrapped herself into the robes the other servants brought.

"Are you to attend the ball tonight yourself my lady?" Varley asked as she set the dress and accessories on a nearby desk as she waited for her lady.

"Penelope is suppose to attend with me but I have no idea." She said as she let Varley help her with her clothes. How was she suppose to attend when someone is clearly trying to force her hand in marriage. Different from what her parents have done. Oh how she loathed her parents but loved them at the same time.

"Portia!" Her mother yelled from the hallway.

"Mama?" She walked out of her room. She stood there with her hands folded over one another clearly showing her nervousness. "Quit messing around." Her mother growled.

"I want you to meet Lord Featherington." She said as she stepped to the side. Portia nearly burst into tears at the older man in front of her. Her mother only wanted to get rid of her. No, she only wants what is best for her.

"My Lord" Portia nodded her head and looked down. Of course she wasn't naive about the power but the fact that she lies to herself that she will give her children a happier life. So there she was standing at the alter with a older.

One she did not love.

Her loves eyes stared at her from the benches of the church.

Her one and only love.

"I may now pronounce you man and wife. Lord and Lady Featherington."

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 15 | Chapter 17

Chapter 16: Little Fish

TW: as always mentions of drinking, smoking and some minor mentions of drug use (current and past), language, mentions of sexual content, some classic catfight material (Tess vs. Simone) a bit of jealous Jake, some kind of heavy topics, I haven't been to New York so please suspend your disbelief while I poorly describe shit, I also do not speak Japanese so the translations all came from Google Translate. I apologize in advance if they're wrong. And this long ass chapter was edited quickly so if there are any mistakes either ignore them or please politely point them out so I can try to go in and fix them. Enjoy y'all! This bitch is 28 pages so stay hydrated and well fed! 😂

Oswald rarely had a quiet moment to himself. One certainly foregoes all notions of such when caring for a family of three misfit orphans. But, in the slightly too dark and slightly too musty storage area behind the bar, Ozzy had a moment to himself. He used the time wisely, slowly looking through the old photo album and giving each picture the remembrance it deserved.

It was all there, every birthday and Christmas and vacation. His whole life. The bits that mattered, anyway.

His worn fingers ran over the picture of him and Jack after his first win in some small-time boxing match. It'd taken a better part of thirty years for the brute to convince him to try boxing. Ozzy trained for only a month before agreeing to the match, one he was positively certain Jack had rigged, just to get it over with. All the punches, all the early mornings, and the wisecracks from the kids were made worth it that night when he won. When the love of his life, a love he thought long lost, kissed him in the middle of the ring and gave him that stupid boxing title.

Oz "The Wizard" Moore. So original.

That joyful feeling that filled his chest at the thought of Jack Harrow was always accompanied by the bitter pain of losing him. The young man he'd met in the alley when they were nothing more than two nineteen-year-olds hiding who they were from the world was extraordinary in every way. Strong, not just in the physical sense but in the mental one too. Jack was every bit the man his father wasn't. 

Ozzy remembered all the times he stumbled on Jack taking a beating from his father. Beatings, he supposed, the older, conventional type of man thought would "cure" his son of habits he disapproved of. Habits like making out with the clueless nineteen-year-old trying to run a business in the building next door. And yet, even after a brutal show of force, Ozzy would find Jack in that alley, waiting for him with a smile.

It was funny how a disgusting alley in New York City could be so… Romantic. It was a space between their two worlds, one tiny sliver of an idea, a hope that the two of them could go against the odds and make it. A dream, one that ended when Jack's parents found him a wife.

Everything between him and Jennifer changed him, yet Oz remained close to Jack. Friends. A simple thing that they'd both convinced themselves they could live with, yet a term they knew wasn't going to change how they really felt. Ozzy had worried at first that the manipulative shrew had taken too much when she left. He worried that Jack, his best friend and the man he still very much loved, would crumble under the loss of his little girl and the threats Jennifer spewed. That wasn't his style, though. It never had been.

Ozzy held back tears as he continued through the pages. He'd spent the last four years trying to carry the grief with a calm mask. He'd lost the love of his life, a love he'd only just regained, and it hurt more than anything he'd ever known. But those kids, his kids, didn't need to lose another parent, so he moved forward, but that bittersweet ache remained.

Pictures were now all that remained of that young man, that stubborn man, that tragic epic of a love with too little time.

After restacking the boxes remaining in the bar's storage, Ozzy held the photo album to his chest and turned off the light, shutting the door behind him and locking it tightly. Dom rounded the corner, shoulders straight and face tense. A sense of uneasy fear washed over him, causing his fingers to curl tighter around the book. "We've got a problem."

*

The sounds of large men stuffing their faces full of the modest breakfast I'd prepared for them gave me a victorious feeling. They groaned and slurped and laughed together as I washed the dishes left from my cooking. It wasn't much of a thank you for the long sleepless nights they dedicated to patrolling my street, but it was all they'd let me get away with.

Ryker shook his head, pointing to the half-devoured pancakes on his plate. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten."

Wit and Ollie nodded in agreement. "I'm gonna miss this."

"Come on," I insisted. "You don't have to pretend you'll miss standing outside my door all night."

"It wasn't so bad," John reassured me, setting his plate in the sink beside me.

"I hate to doubt you guys, but… Is Dom sure everything's over with?" I tucked my hair behind my ear and laughed. "I really don't want any more rocks through my window."

Ryker finished his pancakes and stood, giving me a tight squeeze as he set his things down. "Don't worry. Dom's got it all under control. You know him."

"I do." The relieved sigh that left me alleviated the heavy weight of all that I'd been dealing with. If Dom said it was safe, I believed him. "Thank you, guys. Seriously."

"Like I said, don't worry about it, kid."

Wit was the last to put his dishes in the sink, ruffling my hair as he followed the others out of my apartment and returned to Dom's warehouse. The lack of gruff bikers walking around my apartment was odd, but I was glad it was over. More so, I was glad that nothing truly bad happened. No one was hurt or threatened. No one even saw him. Maybe that meant he'd finally given up… Finally, let me go.

It was an impossible thought. I knew that, knew that it was far too hopeful to ever be a reality. But I clung to it anyway. Like ivy clinging to an old, weighed-down chain link fence, I clung to the hope.

My phone pinged, and a text message from Mr. Hiragana's associates lit up my screen. My employer looks forward to your meeting and wishes to know how many guests we should prepare for.

Scott and I had discussed the meeting a few times since the night Mr. Hiragana had his associate give me the business card. He was ready. More than that, he seemed excited, a rare thing for Scott. Jake, however, bristled at any mention of it. I knew it wasn't intentional but rather a symptom of his trauma, so I never pushed him for a straight answer. The vague "maybe's" and "I'll think about it's" were enough. But now I needed an answer. Two. I replied. I plan on bringing two colleagues from 22West with me.

Excellent, we will make all the necessary preparations. Thank you.

Closing my phone and gathering my things together, I started walking to work, going over possible ways to broach this subject with Jake when the time came. Either way, it was gonna be a hell of a night. I walked past a few cooks smoking in the alley, greeting everyone with smiles and a bit of casual banter before heading inside, where the relaxed feeling of the alley shifted into that of a blood bath.

"You can't keep pulling this shit!" Scott yelled.

Howard stood in front of the pissed-off chef with an emotionless expression. "I understand your frustration, but this situation is hardly my doing."

"Bullshit!"

Howard quieted Scott with a raised hand as he turned to me, straightening his jacket. "Lena." Having only the stiffness of his voice to gauge his mood, I assumed he was stressed. "Our lovely hostess is… Out for the night. I need you to fill in for her."

"Alright," I replied warily. "Is there something else?"

"No." Scott rolled his eyes, aggressively chopping fine slices of meat. Howard sighed, barely glancing at the chef. "There's appropriate attire waiting for you upstairs. I had Will put it in your locker."

The tension didn't ease as I headed toward the stairs with a quiet thanks. Ari and Sasha just finished changing, offering me smiles and kisses as they hurried to the family meal. Inside my locker, a dry cleaning bag hung with an emerald green dress inside.

The soft fine velvet, an expensive feeling material, made me pause. Surely there was some sort of mix-up. I'd seen what the hostesses normally wore, and while they did dress up on important occasions, their attire was never like this. When Will emerged from the door leading to the upper level, I stopped him. "Will! Uh, Howard told me there'd be some clothes for me in my locker, but…" Holding up the dress, I smiled tensely. "This seems like a mistake."

Will shrugged. "That's the bag Howard gave me. I double-checked, and he said that was the outfit he picked."

"Okay," I replied with a chuckle. "Looks like I'm gonna be a bit overdressed then."

It was a beautiful dress, hugging my figure in a flattered way, the long sleeves ending perfectly at my wrists, and the dress stopped just above my knees. The sweetheart neckline was more revealing than I'd expected of a hostess' dress, but it made my breasts look good. Inside a smaller bag was a pair of matching emerald earrings and a long golden necklace with smaller emeralds placed throughout.

Putting in the earrings, I slid off my old shoes and put on the heels provided for me when a light knock echoed from the doorway. Howard smiled, eyes trailing down my body as he nodded approvingly. "You look radiant."

"Thank you," I said, awkwardly holding the necklace. "Is it some kind of special occasion or something?"

"No," he answered. "No special occasion. If you have to, you can consider it an extended apology for my part in your mother's schemes."

"That's hardly necessary, Howard."

Gesturing to the necklace, he smiled softly and sweetly. "May I?"

I handed him the necklace with a slightly awkward shrug. "Sure."

Howard carefully pulled my hair over my shoulder and clasped the necklace around my neck. He stood back and nodded approvingly at the green sight of me nearly reflecting in his glasses. "Perfect. I trust you're feeling confident about hostessing tonight?"

"You know me, Howard," I said with a tight smile. "I'm always feeling confident."

"Of course," he chuckled, squeezing my shoulder. For a minute, he looked like he wanted to say more, opening his mouth only to be interrupted by Simone appearing in the doorway. She drank in the sight of us with a pleased smile. Howard withdrew his hand and nodded to us both. "Have a good service tonight, ladies."

"You too," I replied, turning to reorganize my things in my locker. 

"Howard," Simone practically purred as the manager slid past her.

The locker room fell silent. It'd been a while since Simone and I had spoken more than two words to one another, and I wasn't looking to change that. Silence was safe. It meant there would be less of a chance that I'd dig up more than I already had. I knew what I knew. I knew what a monster Simone was, but Jake didn't. Jake still loved the woman who had raised him, lied to him, and abandoned him. The woman that had used him. It wasn't my place to force him to confront everything she'd done, and I knew better than most what could happen.

Forcing someone to face the worst parts of their life, things so traumatic and life-altering, was like playing with fire. One mistake could burn a house down. Jake had his house, his world, built on Simone. She was the mother he lost, the sister he never had, the one he thought of as his first love. Losing all that, the foundation of his whole life would destroy him. 

Tearing an entire house down was hard, even more so when you have to do it board by board. But I wasn't afraid of a bit of hard work. I'd tug every loose board Jake showed me, and I'd help him rebuild, just like my family had done for me. Starting life over was a pain most people didn't have to live with, and for those that had done it, well, we needed to stick together.

I closed my locker and turned to face her, having decided with a sigh. "Mind if we talk for a second?"

She looked over her shoulder, arching a perfect brow. "I think it's overdue."

"I'm not going to apologize for anything I said,'' I began. "I think you deserved to hear every word. But I realize the strain our animosity is causing Jake, and I care too much about him to make his life harder."

"You have strong opinions of me," Simone replied after a minute of thought and a scoff at the mere uttering that I cared for Jake. Her voice was flat, speaking matter of factly, void of emotion. "And despite how misguided and unfounded they may be, I respect your right to have them. You don't want to be friends, which is fine with me. However, since it seems you have no intention of going anywhere, I agree it'd be best if we weren't enemies."

I could read between the lines. This was a truce but also a warning. She lifted her head, setting her lips in a thin line showing me exactly how unhappy she was having this conversation. Yet, she still did it because it mattered to him. In some very deep and manipulative way, Simone cared about Jake. It wasn't right, this relationship they had. I knew that, but at that moment, for whatever reason, Simone agreed with me. "I have no issue being civil, Simone. As long as we share a mutual interest, I have no intention or interest in trying to undermine you."

"Smart," she admitted, though I could see in her eyes she was seething over my openly admitting I was interested in Jake. "I do hope your opinions of me change, but for now, I suppose all that matters is Jake."

"Seems like we agree then."

"It seems so." She smiled, turning to finish primping. "Thank you for the conversation, little one."

I ground my teeth together at the nickname I now could safely assume she used to try and twist the dull blade left by my mother, but instead of pushing things, I turned and hurried down the stairs to grab some food while I still could. The enthusiastic whistles were instantaneous as Sasah and Ari practically tripped over themselves, trying to get a good feel for the soft fabric now shrouding me in green. Heather complimented the color and the fit, admitting she was slightly jealous that I got such a nice outfit instead of those hideous stripes.

The only person missing was Jake. After the family meal was cleared away and the preparations for the night of service started in full, I assumed Jake was back to keeping a much more loose schedule. Though he wasn’t Howard's favorite by a long shot, he’d likely grown more comfortable falling back into his late arrival as Howard's focus seemed to shift elsewhere. After double-checking the tables and the flower arrangements, I headed toward the hostess stand, determined to get acquainted with the reservation book before service started. 

The tables that had occupied the small square of space to the side of the front door had been rearranged, and the hostess stand had been moved over, now in full view of the large window. I turned to Nicky. “Did this get moved?”

He shrugged. “No clue. Maybe Howard’s trying to use your pretty face to get people interested in coming in for dinner sometime.”

“You’re hilarious, Nick.”

Chuckling to himself, he carried on with his tasks, and I carried on with mine until I felt comfortable with the names of the guests. Hopping behind the bar, I started helping him polish glasses, just looking for something to keep my hands busy while my mind still struggled to come up with a good way to talk to Jake about the meeting. The bartender walked through the doors as if on cue, straightening his tie.

His eyes widened slightly as he took in my appearance. Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, he leaned against the bar's side, admiring my ass in the dress. “Well, good evening to you too, princess.”

“You’re later than I expected you to be,” I replied casually. “You missed your chance to ogle at the dress properly.”

“It’s not the dress I’m ogling,” Jake smirked, standing beside me, just a hair too close. “You should play hostess more often.”

I tilted my head slightly, sending him a quick doe-eyed stare. “And why’s that?”

“I’ve got a good reputation with hostesses.” He said, eyes drawn to my lips.

My brow quirked as I narrowed my eyes at him. “Didn’t Roslyn say she hated your guts and wished you’d die in your own shit?”

Jake shrugged, reaching over to grab a glass and polish it, finally seeming to realize he was at work. “Roslyn was bitter a hell. Trust me, she didn’t have many complaints before I blew her off.”

“I wonder why?”

“So, the dress,” he said, changing the subject. “Is the Pope coming in for dinner, or are you just trying to impress everyone on your first night being a hostess?”

“Howard insisted I wear it.”

Jake rolled his eyes and scoffed. “What a gentleman.”

"What, you don't like my dress?" I teased, sliding past him back toward the hostess stand.

Jake stayed behind the bar but stood at the far end, watching me closely. "It's a great dress. I just can’t believe Howard’s trying to buy your attention with gifts.”

“It’s just for the night.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He looked at the dress one last time before the night really started. “I still prefer you in red, though."

Rolling my eyes, I arched a brow. "And here I thought you were gonna say something stupid like how you prefer me in nothing at all." 

He hummed, grabbing another glass to polish with a grin, "Hmm, that doesn't sound like me."

Service was a lot less stressful when all I was responsible for was the guests at the door and a few coats. It was also much easier to get distracted being out in the front with Jake all night. Watching him cater to the guests with that gleaming grin and natural charm was like watching an artist at work. It was cheesy and obviously about the tips, but I still couldn’t look away, and neither could the guests. The true show was when he’d roll his sleeves up and give everyone close by a good peek at the growing muscles of his arms. 

Jake caught me staring a few times, sending me a wink or a slow drag of his eyes down my body. It was invigorating, so much so that I shamelessly pictured what it would be like to have him pin me to the hostess stand and finally put those accursed and talented lips on mine. Or, better yet, back on my pussy like he had a few days ago. As always, Jake seemed to be able to tell when my thoughts drifted to less friendshiply things. His eyes darkened, and his smile grew far more smug. He enjoyed showing off and capturing my attention like this, but two could play that game.

I was thankful for the dress at that moment as it allowed me the perfect opportunity to lean forward and instantly draw his gaze to my breasts. They looked soft and supple, but judging by the hungry look in Jake’s eyes and the way he ran his tongue along his lips and teeth, he was disappointed it wasn’t covered in his hickeys. The dress also gave me many opportunities to show off the body Jake seemed to enjoy so much. Lifting my hands over my head, I stretched slightly, and his eyes couldn’t keep themselves from admiring the subtle arch in my back and the curve of my waist. It was too easy but no less fun.

Eventually, Howard requested I serve the guests at the door a small taster of wine to help sell whatever product it was that he wanted to focus on tonight. I slid behind the bar, Jake watching every step, and reached up to try and grab the bottle I needed, only to find myself too short. My eyes narrowed as I distinctly remembered watching Nicky and Jake grab the bottle from a much lower, more accessible shelf earlier. Then I felt the heat of Jake’s body at my back and realized his goal.

Large hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as I attempted to turn. I had to bite my lower lip as he gently kneaded his skilled fingertips into my flesh, massaging lightly before lifting a hand up. Jake didn’t need to lean into me to reach the bottle, we both knew he was tall enough, but that certainly didn’t stop his shamelessness. I could feel the pronounced half-hard outline of his dick glide against the soft fabric of the dress. The sensation made a shiver run up my spine as a soft, barely audible moan whispered across my skin.

The bottle was placed in my hands, and Jake settled his lips beside my ear, smirking as he whispered. “There you go, princess.”

“I wouldn’t have needed the help if you hadn’t of moved it.” My mouth was dry as I turned to look up at him, chest to chest, faces far too close for “just friends”.

He shrugged. “I blame the dress. Clouding my judgment and whatnot.”

I met his teasing with a smirk of my own. “Judgement? You?”

“I have my moments.” His hands squeezed my hips one last time, sliding along the dress before he winked. “Better get back to work before Howard pitches a fit.” The bottle. The guests. Right. I turned quickly to gather the small testing glasses, but not quickly enough to miss Jake’s praise. “Good girl.”

Fucking. I turned to glare at him as the urge to squeeze my thighs together nearly overtook me. He smirked into the drink he started making as I mumbled some vaguely empty threat about getting him back later. The guests came first, or whatever. As I turned, my eyes locking onto a pair of wide brown ones, I knew there wouldn’t be a chance to continue our game. 

Tess moved to the bar, throwing her purse on top of it in front of Jake, almost causing him to spill the drink he was making. With an angry look, he regarded her. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s been weeks,” she said coldly. “You said you were gonna talk to me, and then you just ghosted me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Looking around, she shook her head. “Yeah, real busy. So busy you can’t even bother picking up the phone.”

Jake leaned forward. “Get the hell out of here, Tess. We’ll talk about it later.”

“No.”

“Just-”

I saw the blonde hair exit the kitchen before Jake and Tess did, and when Simone’s polite face crafted to get the most tips from her guests fell into a deep and very obvious scowl, I knew everyone in this restaurant was fucked. Her grip on the plates tightened as she slid past the bar in silence. Jake’s demeanor shifted in less than a second. There was no trace of the playfulness and cockiness he had just moments ago, nothing but tense anxiety. “Tess, leave. Now.”

“Why?” She demanded. Stubborn and oblivious. “So you can just blow me off again?”

“Tess-”

“No.” She turned and glared at me. “Is this because of her?”

Jake looked at me, the word he wanted to say almost visible in his eyes. “No.” Yes.

I was frozen, staring at the nonverbal confession that hung between us. A confession that, if ever admitted aloud, would change everything. Simone’s blonde hair broke us both out of the daze as she approached Jake at the bar, acting like she hadn’t seen Tess at all. Acting like even if she had, it didn’t matter. 

“My love,” she started smiling as she leaned on the bar next to Tess. “I need a bottle of Opus for table seven.”

Jake couldn’t move, his eyes slightly wide as they flashed to Tess. “Okay.”

Simone nodded, moving to turn away when she “spotted” Tess. “Oh… Hello Tess.”

“Simone,” Tess replied, voice dripping with bitter anger. 

“It’s good to see you,” Simone continued. “You look well.”

Tess shook her head. “Yeah, getting away from all the drama of this place must agree with me.”

Simone’s smile was thin as she nodded. “That’s good.”

“How are things here?” Tess asked. “I haven’t had much time to catch up with everyone.”

“They’re good,” She replied. “As always.”

“As always?” Tess spared Jake a look. “Guess that means you two are back in bed together right? That is if you ever stopped.”

That was when everything shifted. The simple pleasantries were gone, replaced by anger and hatred I could only assume was held in for too long. Jake moved, quickly rounding the bar to get to Simone’s side just in time for her to laugh in Tess’s face. “You always were so insecure.”

Tess moved to stand. “Insecure? I was right about you and your twisted bullshit!”

“How dare you come here and attack me when you were the one to destroy our friendship.” Simone bit back. “How dare you.”

“All I wanted-”

“All you wanted was something you cannot have!”

“That’s enough,” Jake said, gently nudging Simone.

Tess’s eyes filled with liquid as she desperately wanted to cry but held it in. “It was all your fault. Everything! You just couldn’t stand the thought of being the sad, washed-up waitress you are.”

“How’s Howard?” Was Simone’s reply. “Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you? He was never really interested in you, after all, was he? You were just easy, like always.”

"That's enough," Jake repeated, shoving between Tess and Simone, forcing the blonde to meet his eyes. "Come on, Simone. Just walk away."

She scoffed, an action that made her look more animal than a woman. Her teeth bared, she practically shoved Jake away from her. “Typical.”

He winced as she walked away, seething with anger, but he still moved to follow. Tess grabbed his shoulder, her wide eyes filled with desperation and disbelief. "Seriously, Jake?"

"Get the fuck out of here, Tess," he replied roughly as he pulled himself away from her to follow Simone.

"Fucking…" Tess groaned, grabbing her purse from the bar and turning to leave in a huff.

I followed her out, watching her wipe budding tears away from the corners of her eyes before speaking, "What were you hoping to accomplish with that?"

She glared at me. "Why the fuck do you care?"

"Because that little showdown, confrontation, whatever, just made Jake's night - hell, maybe even his life a lot harder," I replied. "Someone that cares about him wouldn't have done that."

"Stop acting like you know me!" She shouted. "Like you know him!"

"I don't know you, Tess. And based on all I've seen so far, I don't want to. But I do know Jake. I know he still cares about you, and I know how bad you hurt him." I looked inside the window at Howard, ordering the servers to control the damage. "You're young and naive. That's fine. It's understandable, but sooner or later, your sole focus on what you want is gonna drive away the people that care about you."

Tess turned her head too, looking inside the window at the tight smiles and quick, stressed movements of her former coworkers - her friends. "I… I didn't mean for this to happen. I just wanted-"

"You just wanted," I repeated. "I hate to be the one to teach you this lesson, but it's not always about you."

"So what? I'm just supposed to put everyone above myself?"

"It's about balance." I gestured to the bustling street. "That's what this city is, Tess. Balance."

Quickly looking around her, she asked, "How can you just stand there while she uses him?"

The insinuation that I didn't care as much about Jake as she did because I didn't get rid of Simone made me chuckle. "Rome wasn't built in a day. Getting out of unhealthy relationships doesn't happen overnight, either. Goodnight, Tess."

Inside service continued as though nothing happened. The guests ate up the gossip and drank expensive wine laughing about the show. It made my chest burn with old, cruel words I'd bit down on for as long as I could remember. Rich people sucked. They felt so above it all, so much better that they forgot the people they laughed and joked about were real fucking people. That show, as they called it, was someone's life. But, as always, they didn't care. They didn't even pretend to.

"When you have the kind of power money gives you, you don't have to pretend, baby girl."

Nicky handled the bar by himself, while Jake handled Simone. It wasn't easy, but the veteran refused any attempt at helping I offered. Things flowed smoothly from there until Jake returned to the bar. His body language and blank expression told me all I needed to know. The guests didn’t spare him, not bothering to stop talking about the outburst and not bothering to whisper it either. 

Jake’s jaw was tense as he finished the night of service, handing Nicky the tips and moving past with a simple. “I’m getting changed.”

I knew the hostess usually stayed to see the guests off, but my feet moved to follow him regardless. The kitchen was buzzing with the gossip, but no one stopped me to ask about it as I hurried up the stairs just in time to catch Jake punch his locker as hard as possible. I jumped, the metal groaning beneath his fist threatening to swallow me in the past, but I forced myself past it and slowly joined him in the empty locker room. “Hey.”

He looked over his shoulder, moving his fist from the metal and shrugging off the sting of pain I knew he felt. “Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be kissing the guest's asses?”

“Howard can manage that,” I joked lightly. “We both know how adept at ass-kissing he is.”

Jake chuckled, a soft sound that at least gave me - gave us both - a moment of relief. “Yeah, yeah, he is.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He started tugging at the buttons of his shirt. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

I nodded, averting my eyes to give him some sense of privacy. “Okay, that’s fine. Can I give you a hug, at least?”

He exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t need one.”

“Who said you did?” I asked, slotting myself against his back. My arms wound around him, and my cheek settled against his bare back. “This is for me.”

With an appreciative chuckle, Jake placed one of his hands over mine. "Well, if it's for you, then I guess I can survive."

We stood like that for a while before I pulled away and let him change. "Tonight was kind of a shit show, wasn't it?"

He turned, eyes appreciating my dress one last time before I moved to change. "It had some highlights."

"So, you gonna call Tess back?"

"No." He fixed his shirt and put his earrings back in. "Told you I wasn't interested in getting back with her."

"I know," I replied. "But does she?"

Jake shook his head and shrugged. "I haven't told her anything besides telling her we'd talk later."

"I think you should." He looked at me with curious eyes. "Talk to her. Who knows, it might do you both some good. You know, closure or whatever."

"Did you get that with Francois?" He asked.

We hadn't spoken about that night. Jake didn't ask about it, and I hadn't brought it up, but clearly, we both remembered the hours he spent with me while I was in a low place. I shook my head. "That's different. I don't… I don't think he and I will ever get that."

Nodding, Jake sighed. "I… Sorry, I shouldn't try to compare. What happened with Tess and I is different from that."

"I get it," I said, shaking off the tinge of hurt that thoughts of Francois still brought me. "That a no to talking to Tess?"

"I'll think about it."

"How's Simone?" I forced myself to ask.

Jake shrugged again. "I got her calmed down, but she still seemed off.

"Are you skipping Ozzy's tonight?" I asked, turning away to change. "You know, to check up on her?"

"No," he said quietly. "She said she wanted some space."

"Yeah, what Tess said was a lot." Part of me lingered on her comment about Simone and Jake getting into bed together. Jealous and painful and not something I wanted to pull to the surface.

Jake, however, didn't need me to ask that question. One look, and he just knew in that way he always did. "It was just her trying to get a rise out of Simone. She and I… It's complicated and messy, but things haven't been like they were, not since before you started working here."

He wouldn't outright confirm they'd slept together - he couldn't - but his vague words brought me some comfort. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he insisted. "It's a good thing. At least, I like to think so."

The loud voices of our coworkers echoed through the stairwell as they clamored up to change and probe Jake for exclusive gossip on Simone and Tess' catfight. I changed while they talked, and Scott eventually joined the group. He still looked upset but wasn't actively cursing anymore. 

As soon as he finished changing, he turned to me, cigarette already between his lips. "We still on for the meeting this week?"

"Yeah," I answered, carefully looking over at Jake. It wasn't an ideal time to talk about whether or not he planned on joining us, but now it looked like it'd have to do.

Scott nodded, glaring at Jake. "You coming?"

"Maybe," the dark-haired, broody bartender replied. 

"Whatever, man."

I waited until everyone funneled out of the locker room before I smiled at Jake. "I told Mr. Hiragana's associate to plan for two extra guests. So, if you are planning on coming, there's a spot for you."

His jaw tensed again as he nodded, looking away from me. "Okay."

"Jake, if this isn't something you're interested in doing," I smiled, stepping in front of him and turning his face toward me. "That's okay."

"Simone-"

"This isn't about her," I said gently, pressing my hand against his chest. "This is about you. What you think. What you want. So, don't make the decision for Simone or Scott, or me. Make it for yourself."

"That's more confusing than you think it is."

"I know." I squeezed his hand and lightly tapped his chest. "I just want you to do what's best for you. To be happy, no matter what you choose."

His eyes softened, and when he nodded, I knew he'd try to think about it without inserting anyone else. "Thanks."

"No problem, sweetie. Now ditch the lemon face and come on, or we'll be late to Ozzy's. I've gotta help with the bar tonight."

*

Jake sat in the booth at Ozzy's, listening to Patrick and Peter plan some exercises for him to try now that he'd started showing some skill in the sport they both loved. Quinn and Ari sat at the bar, and Sasha searched for a man to ensnare for the night. Prue and Will grabbed their drinks from the bar and slid into the empty spot beside him.

His eyes were almost glued to Lena as she worked behind the bar. Jake had watched her do it so much over the past few months, but it never lost the deep, almost sexual appeal. The way she moved, was confident and experienced while maintaining her fun, lovable nature made him so drawn in. Seeing her tits a bit when she leaned over wasn't such a downside, either.

The only thing that seemed different about tonight was the lack of a certain drug dealer's presence. He noted how Lena searched the crowd of his usual crew and how her face fell slightly when she didn't find him there. That made him feel a tiny itch of jealousy, one there from the start but one that hadn't bothered him too much.

A flash of deep blue and sparkling silver caught his eye as a police officer made his way through the crowd with searching eyes. The man was tall and well built with a face women would find conventionally attractive. He reminded Jake of Will. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a look about him that just screamed goody two shoes. Prue turned her head and smiled widely, making an excited speaking noise as she shot up in the booth and waved to catch his attention. "SAMMY!"

The blonde turned his head, grinning ear to ear at her as he made his way to their table. "Prue bear!" He wasted no time bending across to hug her, signing a simple conversation with the artist before Quinn's familiar laugh caught his attention.

"Sam I Am. Sam I am, oh how I love that Sam I Am!" Quinn said with a wide grin as she engulfed the officer in a tight hug. "It's good to see you, blue eyes."

"You too, Quinny," the blonde man replied.

She pulled back, wiggling her eyebrows. "Can I taze somebody?"

Chuckling, he shook his head. "No. Is Lee around?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and nodded toward the bar. "Course, she's where she always is."

Jake watched the blonde man's eyes light up at the sight of Lena wiping down the bar. A bitter taste filled his mouth as his chest tightened with a similarly bitter feeling. The officer straightened his back and smiled at Prue, offering her another quick conversation in sign language. Seeing her friends regard him with fondness only made the feeling worse. Then the man's blue eyes landed on Jake. "Hi, I don't think we've met before."

"We haven't," Jake said almost angrily, earning an arched brow and a knowing smile from Quinn. "I'm Jake."

"Jake," he dumbly repeated, reaching over to offer his hand. "I'm Sam."

He looked at Sam's extended hand and friendly demeanor and quickly decided to offer him neither in return. Jake leaned back in his seat, putting distance between him and the hand offered. Sam only smiled as he shrugged his shoulders and let his hand drop. "It was nice to meet you."

Quinn slapped his shoulder. "Now let's talk about that taser."

As the two of them walked away, Prue shook his shoulder. Her hands moved quickly, his eyes taking in the motion but only catching a few words. When he simply stared at her after she'd finished talking, she nudged Will, who sat up and reluctantly translated. "She's asking what your problem with Sam is."

"I don't have one," he said simply.

Prue rolled her eyes and laughed, signing a word she knew he knew. "Bullshit!"

Will smirked, the sight of it lighting a fire in Jake that hadn't been lit for months. "Got something to say?"

He'd always been someone Jake disliked. His attitude, his hair, and the way he talked and moved through life so unencumbered. Truth be told, Jake knew Will wasn't acting like he was better than everyone. He just was. When Will first started at the restaurant, Simone asked, "Why can't you be more like Will?"

He was honest and hardworking, dependable not only to his employer but to his friends. Will was everything Jake wasn't. Simone knew it, and so did he. So when Will scoffed, it took every ounce of his self-control not to punch him. "You know what," the man laughed. "I do have something to say."

"Let's hear it then," Jake replied, wanting nothing more than for Will to finally dish back the slew of insults and grief he'd given him over the years.

Will didn't do that, though. His eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, "What the hell are you doing?" What? Jake's whole body relaxed with shock at Will's genuine expression. "You and Lena have been doing this whole friendship with benefits bullshit for months now, and it's pretty damn obvious to everyone else you both want it to be more, so what the fuck are you waiting for?"

"Lena's made it pretty clear she doesn't want to be anything more," Jake replied.

"Bullshit," Will said and signed. "She's only saying that because she's worried you've just been playing the long game."

"What?"

"Let me put it this way," he leaned forward. "How many new girls have you fucked?"

"Pretty much all of 'em."

Will nodded. "And how many of those girls do you talk to now?"

Jake sighed. "None."

"If you're serious about her, then show her that." Will's expression never shifted as he offered Jake advice he didn't deserve. "I know you and I have never been friends. And I know better than most what an absolute dick you are, but even you deserve the chance to be happy. More importantly, so does she."

He turned his head, unable or unwilling to continue meeting Will's too-kind gaze. The bar was practically empty now, except for a few drunk patrons and now Sam and Lena.

*

A knock echoed on the bar, followed by a nervous clearing of one's throat. "I, uh… Got a call about a potential drug deal."

Turning away from the shelves of liquor, I smiled. "Well, well, if it isn't Officer Mayfield." Sam blushed, just as adorable and innocent as I remembered him. "You got a warrant?"

"No," he chuckled. "Just going door to door asking if anyone's seen anything suspicious."

"Mmm, so you're just asking to get lied to."

"Basically."

"Well, in that case," I leaned on the bar and smiled. "I haven't seen a thing, Officer."

Sam's eyes drifted slightly to the generous view down my top, his face turning beat red as he cleared his throat and nodded. "Dom isn't here then?"

I shrugged. "I wouldn't know anything about that. I'm just a bartender."

"Just a bartender is definitely not how I'd describe you." That genuine tone I hadn't heard in months made me smile more.

"Is this the part where you say you need to strip-search me?" I teased.

Sam's eyes widened just a fraction as he stuttered over a response before, finally, he chuckled. "It's good to see you, Lee."

"You too, Sammy." I walked around the bar and hugged him tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "You know I'm gonna have to kick you out now, right?"

"Wouldn't be Ozzy's if a cop didn't get kicked out."

Patting his shoulder, I grabbed an abandoned drink and splashed it in his face. Sam grinned, those blue eyes shining fondly as I pinched his now wet cheek and nodded toward the door. "Don't trip on your way out, pig."

Dom's boys laughed, raising their glasses to me and oinking loudly as Sam passed through the crowd. Still smiling, I moved back behind the bar as Quinn, Jake, and Sasha made their way over for refills. Ozzy stepped out of the office, looking around at the commotion. "What the bloody hell is going on out here?"

"Sam dropped by," I answered.

Oz smiled, nudging my shoulder. "And how is Officer Mayfield?"

I shrugged, opening a beer and passing it to Quinn. "Dunno, we didn't really get to chat much."

"Shame," Ozzy said, tucking hair behind my ear. "Always liked that boy of yours."

Jake's jaw clenched slightly as I passed him a drink. His blue eyes were guarded, hardened by the deep-set scowl on his face. Quinn noticed it, too, and decided to be her naturally bitchy self. "I liked him too, though if you're gonna fool around, I ask that you lock the door so I don't have to see you two get hot and heavy in the bathroom again. I don't think I've ever seen handcuffs used that way."

Rolling my eyes, I shooed Ozzy out of the way. "You're all so funny."

Sasha leaned on the bar, grinning like a cat. "Tiger Bitch! I never would have pegged you for a lover of the law!"

"I fucked a cop Sasha," I replied. "That's hardly 'lover of the law' territory."

"You fucked that cop a lot, though," Quinn added. "At one point, I think we all expected you to get together."

Jake's jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together, taking a stiff drink. "Yeah, well, you're all idiots."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Can we at least talk about what I caught you two doing on Halloween a few years ago?!"

"I'm going out for a smoke," Jake said, pushing off the bar and out the back door.

With an evil, satisfied smile Quinn shrugged. "Wonder what's up his ass tonight."

"You're a bitch." I served the last drinks and left the clean-up to Ian so I could follow Jake. The sound of chains rattling made my eyes narrow as I moved through the back room to find him in front of a punching bag. "I thought you were going for a smoke."

He nodded to the locker room. "Someone's waiting for you."

Shit. I hurried out to the back alley just in time to catch Whisky hissing at Sam before he jumped off the couch and scurried through the open door. Sam chuckled. "Guess the strays still know I'm a dog person."

"Yeah, that's not exactly something they forget."

"Hey," he said quietly, a nervous greeting.

"Hey," I answered with a smile. "Is this a meeting with Officer Mayfield or with Sam?"

"Just Sam," he answered. "I… I wanted to see you. Not for work reasons."

I nodded, joining him on the couch. "I'm glad. You're a good friend, you know, after you overlook the cop shit."

He laughed and looked at me with those pretty eyes. They were lighter than Jake's. A sky instead of an ocean. "I know we agreed not to… You know be together, but I… I've been thinking about you a lot recently."

"Sammy," I sighed. "You know that's not a good idea."

"I know." He looked out at the brick wall again. "Guess I just miss you."

"I miss you too, as my friend."

Sam's cheeks reddened slightly as he gestured to the door. "So, I, uh, met Jake. Is he your…"

"Friend." I replied with a sigh. "A complicated one."

He seemed happy, almost. "You like him."

Rolling my eyes, I sent him a look. "You're just as bad as Quinn."

"Come on, Lee. Obviously, the two of you are more than 'complicated friends'." With a nudge to my shoulder, he smiled. "I'm glad you found something like that."

"You'll find it too. Handsome guy like you is bound to land one hell of a girl."

"Hopefully!" He replied, standing up and opening his arms to one last hug. "See you around?"

"Course you will. I'm hard to miss." As he turned to leave out the alley, I hollered out to him, "Ditch the uniform next time, and I'll buy you a drink!"

He waved. "Got yourself a deal, Lee!"

Back inside the gym, Jake continued to punch the bag in front of him, eyes focused and expression tight. Beside him Whisky sat on top of his jacket, purring softly. Instead of trying to get his attention, I simply joined him on the punching bag next to him with a simple, "You can smoke now."

"Officer douche is gone then?"

"He's hardly a douche, but yeah, he's gone."

There was a pause in his hits as he said, "So, guess I'm not the only one that knows about the couch."

I looked over at him, seeing the unspoken hurt in his eyes. "I've only taken one other person there. And it took Sam years to get that privilege."

I could tell my words made him feel better, but there was still something bothering him. "He seems like a good guy."

"He is."

"Why aren't you with him then?"

I shrugged, throwing a few more punches. "We're just different people. Sex is uncomplicated, but anything more than that would've been a disaster." Jake didn't seem satisfied with my answer. "Sam's sweet. He wants what a lot of good guys want out of life. A meaningful career, a nice house out of the city with the white picket fence… kids."

"And that's not what you want?"

"I like my job, bartending and cooking. It's simple, and I'm good at it." I threw another punch at the bag. "And I love living in the city."

"What about kids?" He finally asked.

I stopped hitting the bag, numbness prickling my fingertips like needles as I dumbly let myself remember that hospital room. Beaten and broken, but finally free. I remembered how clean the air smelt. It was so clean I could practically taste it. My Dad's voice reassuring me that they'd all be back after a good hose down in the bar alley… Dom sitting beside me when the doctor came in.

"No." The word was cold and definite. "That's… I…" With a sigh, I forced my limbs back up, punching the bag once, twice more. "I've never really wanted that."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jake nod. "Understandable. That domestic shits the worst."

A slightly tense but relieving laugh bubbled up out of my throat. "Sounds like you've had a lot of bad experiences with that domestic shit."

"Not really," he replied with a chuckle. "Just figured, given everything…" I understood the pain that he held in the unspoken words. "I doubt I'd be any good at it."

He punched his bag several times, taking that frustration and anger out on the sandbag, signaling this conversation's end. We worked out alongside each other for a few minutes longer before changing and sitting on the old alley sofa as we did most nights. Whisky curled up between us, using Jake's jacket as a blanket, with my head on his shoulder. "You know, just for the record," I began softly. "I think you'd be pretty good at that domestic shit."

Jake made a soft noise, letting his head fall over mine. "I think you would be too."

Like most other nights, Jake walked me back to my apartment, whistling at the sight of an empty doorway. I rolled my eyes at him. "That's right, no more babysitters for this girl!"

"Didn't think Dom was gonna let you outta his sight after the rock."

"Neither did I," I admitted. "But here we are. Safe and sound."

He smiled as we reached my door, wiggling his eyebrows. "Gonna invite me in?"

I playfully shoved him. "Goodnight, loser."

*

There was a chill in the air that made my bones feel heavy inside my body as I made my way through the crowd of people making their way toward the entrance to the Botanical Garden. From the gate, I could see the orange and red leaves of the trees and lines of pumpkins highlighting the coming festive season celebrations. Scott stood to the left of the gate, arms crossed as he waited. Jake wasn't with him.

My heart dropped slightly as I approached. "You heard from Jake?"

"Nope," Scott replied. "Looks like it's just us."

I turned, looking out at the sea of faces, hoping to find him among them. I meant what I told him, but still, I wanted him to want this. We slowly started moving, heading toward the Hill and Pond section of the gardens. With every step I took, I sent out a small, heartfelt wish that Jake would come. That his decision would somehow lead down the same path as me.

*

Jake's leg bounced nervously as he twisted the card between his fingertips. Not like he was new to doing dumb shit, but this… This was stupid. He kept repeating what Lena said, that it didn't matter to her if he decided not to join them, but somehow that just made him more confused. 

Simone would be livid if she found out. When, he corrected. Keeping a secret from her was impossible, especially one like this. Guilt made his chest feel heavy, restricting every breath he tried to pull into his lungs. The last time he did this, Simone was scared… She was heartbroken, thinking he was abandoning her after all she had gone through with Etienne, Tess, and Howard. He couldn't make her feel like that again. 

Jake knew he wasn't abandoning her, but the memory of her raw, vulnerable expression of support was enough. At the expense of the cook's respect for him, he hadn't been able to go through with it then with Scott. Why did he think now would be any different? A soft noise drew his eyes up at the man standing beside him, with long hair and slightly wrinkled skin. He bowed. "Is this seat taken?"

"Knock yourself out," Jake replied, still feeling breathless by the crushing weight of this choice.

The man sat, dark eyes looking at the card in his hands. "Are you a fan of the gardens?"

Jake's brows scrunched together. "What?"

He pointed to the card. "The Hill and Pond garden. A staple of Japanese culture in the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. Are you a fan of this place?"

"Oh," he looked at the card again, shaking his head. "I haven't been."

"Ah, this is your first visit, then?"

This guy was getting kind of annoying. "Yeah."

The man settled in his seat with a smile. "Who is the woman?"

"What?"

"You do not seem the type to enjoy a random trip to a garden," he replied. "I mean no disrespect, of course."

Jake stared at this stranger for a minute before he shook his head again, slightly frustrated that he was even entertaining his questions. Months ago, he would've already told this freak to fuck off. He blamed Lena. Blamed her infectious curiosity and annoying kind-hearted nature. Eventually, he answered, still displeased with the whole situation. "It's not like that. I'm supposed to meet with some people about a business opportunity."

The man nodded. "Ahh, a great blessing."

"Yeah, if I show up."

"Do you not want to?"

"That's not…" He sighed. "I don't know what I want."

The stranger shook his head and held his cane tighter as the bus shifted. "I do not think that is true."

Jake scoffed. "Whatever."

The old man shifted in his seat, looking at Jake with understanding. It caught him off guard for a second. "May I offer you some advice?"

He didn't know what this stranger's deal was. Maybe he was some fake psychic con artist or just crazy, but at this point, Jake figured, what the hell. "Sure."

"It can be dangerous, walking through this life uncertain of where you are heading. Unsteady feet make it easy for others to sway you down paths you do not belong on."

Jake pulled his lips together, nodding along with the nonsense the man spoke. He held in a laugh. "That's vague."

The man laughed. "Life is often vague. Especially so when you are following the path of another."

"You think I'm not on my own path?"

"I know it," he replied. "I was like you once. Confused. Angry. Uncertain."

"And how'd you figure it out?"

The man touched a small pin on his front coat pocket and smiled. "I had the guidance of a very wise friend."

Jake looked away from him and sighed. "Well, I don't have many of those."

"You have more than you think."

"Do I?" Jake mocked.

The man only smiled at him, rising from his seat as the bus stopped at the gardens. "May I offer another piece of advice before I leave you?"

Jake put his hands up in defeat and sighed. "Sure, why the fuck not?"

"Two kindred souls do not find one another by simple accident." He bowed, the rainbow koi fish pin catching the light. "Kono kaiwa o arigatō."

Jake watched him go, meeting up with a few people in fine black suits that bowed to him as he approached. What the fuck? He stared at the entrance to the gardens, heart hammering in his chest like waves crashing against each other. He felt heavy. Breathless. And it was then, in the midst of an internal storm, that his mind was made up. Seconds before the door closed, Jake got off, walking briefly toward the entrance, each step echoing the one thing his mind and heart could agree on. Lena. 

*

Scott and I sat at a metal table, round with designs of swimming koi fish on the surface. It had to have been custom-built and brought to the location hours prior to the meeting. An array of finely dressed staff stood, perfectly poised around us, ready to fulfill our every request. Scott sniffled the tea they'd placed in front of us both. The fine Japanese porcelain was lined with gorgeous blue designs, cranes and flowers, and fish and trees. It was expensive. A show of good faith that we, as potential partners in business, valued such things of beauty.

It had been years since Mr. Hiragana and I were able to have an actual conversation. So much had happened… So much had changed for both of us. I was looking forward to seeing him outside of the restaurant, in a space where we could talk freely. One fish to another.

As the light October breeze rushed through the trees, I admired our surroundings' beauty. A gorgeous pond of swimming koi was to the right, each ripple glistening in the high sunlight. To the left was a singular path that Mr. Hiragana's associates blocked to ensure this meeting was private. The short cutleaf maples lined the higher ground along the path and shaded the table with their yellowish-reddish leaves and tall winding trunks.

I'd seen trees like them in my time in Japan. While I rarely had time to myself around my mother's scheduling and Tony's "tours", I somehow found time to find gardens to walk through. Aside from hotel bars the gardens were where Mr. Hiragana and I spent most of our short time together. It felt like he was trying to emulate those days walking among the garden flowers and the trees with twisted trunks.

When Mr. Hiragana walked down the path with a gentle smile and his rainbow koi pin, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. He bowed, speaking a calm Japanese greeting, and both Scott and I reciprocated. Gesturing to the table and the spread of finger foods, he joined us. "I hope these small treats have been to your liking while you were waiting."

"I'm not much of a tea fan," Scott began. "But this is decent."

"I am glad. I apologize for my lateness. My bus was delayed."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "You rode the bus here?"

Mr. Hiragana nodded, eyes drifting to the side as another figure turned onto the path. "I quite enjoy it. You never know who you will meet in such a place."

My head turned, and my heart leaped into my throat as Jake stopped next to the table, eyes on Mr. Hiragana. "Son of a bitch."

"Jake." My voice was soft; the incredibly too intimate way his name unconsciously slipped from my tongue made me want to cringe. But, he turned, soft ocean eyes looking at me as he smiled. "You came."

He shrugged, slowly taking the seat next to me. "Figured, what the hell? This could be fun."

I smiled, a warm and intense feeling filling my chest. "I'm glad you came."

"Whatever," Scott replied, looking at Mr. Hiragana. "I wanna get down to business. No more beating around the bush."

Bowing his head, Mr. Hiragana obliged Scott's crass request. "Your food is incredible. Truly art in edible form. I noticed how… Kibishī… Um, strict, the menu is at this 22West."

Scott scoffed. "Yeah, no shit."

“It is an outdated practice, not allowing such creativity to flow. I would see that you receive a more appropriate way to explore your talent.”

“Wait,” Scott leaned forward. “Are you offering me a job?”

Gesturing to one of the associates beside him, Mr. Hiragana placed a folder on the table before us. “Not exactly. I would be more of an investor. This way, you have full control over your menu and budget.”

Scott was the first to look at the paper, his eyes growing wide before he leaned toward Jake and me, showing us the written form indicating just how much Mr. Hiragana was willing to pay for us to start our own business. “Holy shit.”

“Is this for real?”

I looked up at him and bowed. “This is too generous.”

“Nonsense.”

"Why are you doing this?" Jake questioned, an uncertain look on his face.

"A little fish once asked me a question. Simple as it seems, she asked me if I was happy." Tears built in my eyes as Mr. Hiragana smiled at me. "Only then did I realize all that was missing from my life. Because of that little fish and her insatiable questions and bright spirit, I am the man I am today. All of this, my business, my family, it is all because of her." He bowed his head, speaking in Japanese, "A debt I will never be able to repay you, little fish."

"A debt you will never have to repay me," I answered.

Scott and Jake glanced between us, obviously confused, but Scott set the folder back down after a beat. “I’m in. Whatever you want me to do. I’ll do it.”

“I still feel like this is too much,” I replied. “But I would never deny your generosity.”

His eyes shifted to Jake, who looked silently at Mr. Hiragana. “And you? Have you decided what path you wish to be on?”

The response was odd, but Jake seemed to understand as he nodded. “Guess I’m in.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Hiragana said. “I believe you, Ms. Harrow, have a location in mind already.”

“I do,” I answered, slightly surprised he remembered the building I’d spoken of in one of our more recent passing conversations.

“Take your potential partners with you, let them see the place, and then we can discuss the details.” He stood, bowing and taking hold of his cane. “It has been an honor meeting with all of you. I look forward to our future proceedings. Please, take your time and enjoy the park. It is truly a lovely place.”

The three of us sat silently for a minute before Scott asked, “Did that just happen?”

“Yup,” I replied with a laugh. “Well, you guys want to go and check out the place I’ve got in mind now, or did you wanna stick around for a bit.”

“Let’s go.” Scott was on his feet in seconds, already heading down the path toward the exit before Jake and I even blinked.

Jake stood next, quiet and tense, with an expression that made him look like he’d just sucked on a lemon. I nudged him as the two of us followed after an excited Scott. “I am really glad you came.”

He looked over at me and shrugged his shoulder. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it is,” I insisted. “And I want you to know that if you decide you’re really in I’ve got your back.”

“I know that,” he said. “That’s not why I’m… confused.”

“I understand.” My fingers brushed against his as we walked. “I just wanted you to know.”

We caught a cab to the older neighborhood where the tall, long, abandoned building sat in a big empty lot. Trash and graffiti littered the area as we approached the fence. Scott looked around, eyes filled with imagination as he truly looked past everything to see what could be. Jake, however, looked unimpressed as he asked, “Where the hell are we?”

As I slid under the busted chain link fence, I shrugged. “It used to be some hotel, but it’s been closed ever since I can remember. It’s not far from Ozzy’s, though, so there’s a perk.”

The doors were busted open, glass crunching beneath our feet as we walked through the large doorways and into the nearly completely gutted space. Patches of missing walls and peeled wallpaper made it hard to grasp the bigger picture, and the exposed wires hanging from the ceiling and ripping up from the remaining walls made it even more difficult to imagine this place ever being up to code. But I could see it. The dream of a beautiful restaurant with a top-of-the-line kitchen. I could see the dream my dad always encouraged me to go for.

"How much is it?" Jake asked, eyes wandering around the space.

"Free, technically."

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. "Bullshit."

"It's already owned," I clarified.

"Then how are we gonna build anything here?"

"My dad bought it," I said, fingers running over the smooth bar top. It was the only finished piece in the building, long and beautiful mahogany. "He was going to give it to me when I finished culinary school. But... Well, neither of those things happened."

Scott gave me a look. "You wanna use it for this? For my restaurant?"

"Our restaurant. I said I wanted in, and I meant it. You and I can run the kitchen, hash out a menu all that. Or I can take the bar if grumpy Jake decides he's not interested." I gave the quiet man a grin. "Either way, it'd be ours. I'd even put your names on all the papers and shit."

Scott scratched his head and looked at Jake. "What do you think?"

"It's a hell of a space," he said quietly as he moved to observe the bar. "Once you look past the… mess."

"It's in a decent part of town, too," Scott added. "Not too close to anything else to make it hidden but not so far away that we'd miss out on city clientele."

"Oh, there's also a huge parking lot around the side, so you could hire valet." Jake raised a brow at me, and I shrugged. "I told you, the place used to be a hotel." Turning, I gestured to the elevator at the room's far end. "Which also reminds me there's space up top for an apartment or two. Elevator still works, or it did last time I checked."

"Penthouse suite?" Scott laughed. "Your old man really thought of everything, didn't he?"

I smiled sadly, tracing over the initials carved into the bar. "Yeah. He was good at that."

"What's the catch?" Jake asked.

"Don't got one," I replied. "Everything's legally in my name."

Scott looked around a new expression of genuine excitement on his face. "I'm not much of an optimist, but this place is perfect."

I smiled. "No complaints?"

"Nah, not from me anyway." He nodded to Jake. "It's him you gotta worry about stepping out."

I looked at Jake. "Complaints, Mr. Grumpypants?"

He didn't reply immediately, eyes scanning the new space like he was trying to find something to make this whole thing not worth it. After a minute, he shook his head and sighed. "Nope."

"Don't sound too enthusiastic about it," I teased, hoping it would draw him out of the cold exterior he'd had all day.

It didn't.

Jake just rolled his eyes, searching his pockets for a pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips. "So, what now?"

Scott answered before I could. "Now's the part where you're either in or out. I'm in."

"I'm in," I replied, looking at Jake with an expression as understanding as I could convey without words. I wanted him to say yes - I wanted him to join Scott and me in breaking away from 22West, but I wanted him to do what made him happy. "Jake?"

Scott pointed at him. "No pussying out this time."

Blowing a steady plume of smoke out of his mouth, Jake shrugged, clearly trying to appear as casual and bothered as possible. "Eh, what the hell. I'm in."

Holding out my hand, I grinned. "Partners then?"

Scott shook the outstretched hand first. I lifted my other toward Jake, who rolled his eyes but shook it anyway. "Partners."

"You two gotta shake hands."

"I'm not doing that."

"Fuck no."

This was gonna be fun.

*

Dom leaned against the side of the beat-up truck, hastily sucking in his cigarette smoke as he stared at his bike with a scrutinizing gaze. The damn thing was always having some kind of issue, more lately than ever. A part of him, one ruled by frustration, considered getting rid of it, but the other always reminded him why he kept it.

Still, it was a pain in the ass. 

The warehouse door opened, and Fluffy led Lena inside, laughing at the joke she'd told him. Fluffy raised a hand to grab his attention. "Got a visitor, boss!"

"What are you doin' here?" He asked, blowing smoke off to the side to keep it out of her face as she drew closer.

Lena held up a lighter and smiled. "John left this at my apartment."

Dom nodded. "He's been missing that."

"I can imagine the old goat smokes more than you do." She set it down on one of the tool carts. "Haven't seen you at Ozzy's in a few days. Everything alright?"

He smiled a gesture meant to ease the obvious question she avoided like the plague. "Everything's fine. Drug dealer shir, nothin' for you to lose sleep over."

Lena nodded, trying to cover up the deep sigh of relief. "That's good, I guess."

"You off to work?"

"Yeah," she replied, turning to leave. "Have fun with your drug dealer shit, whatever that means."

"Give those rich fuckers hell, kid," he called out to her, the words tasting like ash of his tongue. Dom felt the cigarette butt beginning to burn his chilled fingertips as he remembered the last time he'd uttered a similar farewell.

"Those'll kill you, ya know," she chided, reaching up to pluck the cigarette out of his mouth and quickly snuff it out beneath her foot.

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Got class today?"

"Yup," she replied, patting her bag. "Shouldn't be gone long, though. That reminds me." She tossed her keys to him. "Take the bike in for me?"

"It givin you trouble again?" He asked, studying the keys.

With a shrug, she hopped down the first step. "You're the mechanic, you tell me."

Dom chuckled, pulling another cigarette from his pack as she headed down the sidewalk. "Hey," he hollered. "Give those nerds hell, Sarah!"

Her green eyes sparkled as she turned and waved at him over her shoulder, blowing her blonde hair out of her eyes. "You got it, big brother!"

Lena turned, her green eyes catching the light as she smiled at him, waving at him over her shoulder. "You got it, Dom!"

The cigarette fell from his slightly shaking hands. Dom stared at the empty doorway for a while after Lena was gone, head clouded with the past. Ryker bumped his shoulder. "You alright, boss?"

"Yeah," Dom replied, though the lie tasted even worse than the memory had. "Let's get back to work."

[ballorawan740]

SCP Scenarios: When you try you commit suicide (REQUESTED)

SCP Scenarios Masterlist | My Works Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Rules | My Original Post | Request | Socials

WARNING: If you are or know anyone who is suicidal, please get them help! If this topic triggers you, please leave now!

And if anyone's putting you down and you feel this way, let me know (So I can yah yeet them into hell and back again then throw them into 939 and 682's cell >:D)

SCP 073 (Cain)

Cain's heart drop when he figured out that you were suicidal

He probably has figured out bits and pieces since he noticed that you've acted a lot more different than usual

You came from a very abusive family and everyone around you were toxic

Then you came into the foundation and worked hard enough to stress you out

Didn't help that much since your mentor died from an SCP and some of your coworkers were being bullies to you

Which then drove you to become even more suicidal

Found out much later when someone called him in because you were at the medical bay

Glass was sat there beside you and wanted to check up on you

No responses were heard and Glass turned to see Cain's pained look

He told Cain everything that has happened and he was truly heartbroken by all this news

Cain had tried to comfort you and would give you some space if you need

Would remind you every so often that he loves you and makes sure that you're taking breaks

Definitely dealt with the bullies without you knowing

SCP 076-2 (Abel)

He's quite dense so he might not know that you're suicidal

Probably noticed a few changes in your behaviour but wouldn't question it

Definitely didn't try and threaten to kill everyone once he found out that you were injured

Stormed into the medical part of the Foundation and asked for you

Was about to drag you back to his cell but was stopped abruptly because the doctor who was treating you said the scars were from yourself

Abel looked at you with confusion and hurt

He allowed you to rest in the hospital for a couple of days and asked so many questions

And realising that it was because of your PTSD working with the Foundation and not wanting to stress further

Swore to protect you for all of eternity and wouldn't allow you to go back on the field

So you settled to work in an office instead, handling safe classes and taking some time off

Abel monitored you to make sure you don't do it again

Definitely gave you a huge lecture

It was loud enough for the whole floor to hear and everyone just stopped what they're doing just to see what was happening

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster)

To say 999's little jello heart shattered to a million pieces was an understatement

Nobody has ever seen a bright orange blob of happiness looked so worried and somewhat traumatised as he had received the news

That said news was you trying to commit suicide

And fortunately, there were people around to stop you from hurting yourself even more

999 slithered over as quick as possible and went in to check on you

The first thing he did was to give you a big warm hug and to tell you that he cared about you and you meant everything to him

He never complained about you once and you were grateful for that

999 didn't question your reason for suicide since he knows it'll make things worse and that you'd open up to him whenever you were ready

He saw many of the scars you have on your body and was immediately concerned

Noticing this, you explained your situation to him and he was very much understanding

999 would comfort and support your decisions in not trying to commit suicide

Everyone outside just peeked in and was relieved that you've agreed to work on this together with 999

SCP 682 (Hard to Destroy Reptile)

When 682 heard that you wanted to commit suicide, he was confused and concerned

Part of him wanted to know why and the other part told him that you were stupid for doing that

The both of you were transferred into another room as requested by 682

The very first thing he did was to shout at you for doing something so stupid

Moments later after you cried for a bit, he checked up on you, asking if you were alright, making sure you were comfortable and nuzzled your side for a bit

Once you were relaxed, you've told him everything that's been happening and he listened for once

Which did surprise the researchers when they found out moments later

Unfortunately, 682 did breach containment just to hunt down whoever made you feel that way and he did succeed

Then casually went back to his cell which shocked everyone, even you

Well, let's just say that you were feeling much better and nobody ever bothered you again

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

049 was sus since you were acting strange lately

He had 100% noticed the scars but didn't ask, thinking that you went on a mission and you were just injured and you went to the medics

Later on, his heart dropped when he heard someone say that you seemed like ending your life, which you did

He came into the room you were in and checked on your injuries and scars

You could see the pain in his eyes when he connected the dots and you didn't need to say a thing for him to understand that you did all this to yourself

049 just sighed a little, took a chair and sat on it then nursed your injuries and gave you such a disapproving look

"Who is it this time?" he asked which shocked you since you've never told him explicitly that something or someone bothered you

But you weren't that surprised since your bird boi is observant af

So you just told him everything and he dealt with the situation professionally

And whoever/whatever's bothering you just vanished out of thin air and nobody ever questioned it

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

As I've mentioned in the other chapters, 035 is a master manipulator and actor/actress

So when it comes to body language and the tone you'd use when talking to someone, he would have an idea of what's going on

So when you secluded yourself every passing day and would avoid talking about reoccurring scars on your body, 035 would have quite an accurate guess

When he confronted you about this, you shied away from him for a moment

Since you know 035 well, you just told him everything as he listened intently

He just absorbed all the negativity from you and you just felt better

035 would reassure you and you blindly listened and feel much better with him

And of course, like any other partners out there, he dove into whoever was making you feel suicidal and sorted it all out

After a couple of days, you went back into 035's cell and asked about the missing person

All 035 told you was that the person just got eaten by some SCP and nobody knows how the said person got there

SCP 105 (Iris)

Iris might question your scars here and there if you ever had them

She might not even think that you were suicidal until you showed the obvious traits or if someone told her that you were in the medical bay

Would 100% lecture you about being suicidal then comfort you a second after she's done

She's just super worried about you and even though she's in the foundation with you most of the time, there are moments where she's asked to go into the field with the MTFs

As Iris is rightfully worried about you, if she can't stay with you, she'd make Cain, Dr Glass and Dr Lights watch over you

Maybe Kondraki if he's ok with this

Might even go to Clef and/or Bright if she really needs to

At least they can keep your minds off things

Iris would tend to any of your scars and injuries and motivate you to live

Shows you loads of photos of the happier times you've both shared

Would never let you touch anything that can cause you an injury

Definitely would deal with whoever's making you feel that way if there was that someone

SCP 106 (Old Man)

106 would probably find it hard to grasp the concept of emotions other than the few basic ones

So when he was informed about your attempted suicide, he was confused

not because he didn't understand it, because he definitely did

It's just because he never understood why anyone would do such a thing

Even more so if that person was you

When 106 came to visit you, he would unintentionally show his worried expression which saddened you

Is definitely torn between just comforting you and wanting to ask you about your issue

You did tell him at the end about you wanting to commit suicide and 106 telling you to never do such a thing

Making sure that if someone made you feel this way, he'd deal with them right away and you'd never have to worry again

Although he finds it hard to sympathise with others, he did understand the term, so he would try his best to do so

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

He's basically 106 but a little denser

096 is 100% more anxious than the other SCPs here and would definitely show signs while he's being observed in his cell

Kind of understands the term 'suicide' but not to a full extent

Like he knows what it is, but not how and why people would do so

When 096 got the news about this from your psychologist, he literally went brrrrrr

Went to check in on you and gave you a bone-crushing hug

Made sure that any injuries were properly bandaged and treated

Started to cry midway through

You explained to him that you didn't go all the way because you knew that he needed you and you'd never leave him alone again

096's worried expression slowly turned to happiness and gave you another hug

Dr Jack bright

Bright would notice something's off with you but wouldn't say a thing just yet

Like if he notices that whatever is happening to you has worsened then he'll confront you

At first, you would avoid his gaze and questions, but you ended up telling him everything that's been happening

Bright was shocked and conflicted about all this information

You could literally see him tearing up as he was trying to find the words but couldn't

He ended up giving you a big teddy bear hug

And you just cried into his shoulder/chest

Jack Bright would try his best to comfort you because he wants to take all the pain away

Whenever he's on break, he'd make sure to check up on you

If he was busy and can't visit you, he would make sure to send someone to check up on you

Most likely Dr Glass

Would tell you about his dark thoughts as well

Only because he understands and you wouldn't feel alone about this

Dr Simon Glass

Glass would definitely know

He's a psychologist after all

Would find a way to get you to be more vocal about the issue

And it's quite subtle so you wouldn't know

Once he gets all the information he needs, he'll start to find ways to minimise the chances of you feeling suicidal

He's just so subtle about this that you wouldn't even know

Once you feel better, Glass feels more relaxed knowing that he helped you overcome the issue

Would 100% still watch out for you in case it happens again

Everybody else notices this and helps poor mama Glass look out for you too

Wouldn't necessarily beat up anyone if they hurt you but would definitely give some warning signs to back off though

Sometimes our hardworking Dr Iceberg ends up helping him because mama Glass is busy af

Dr Alto Clef

As dense as he may seem when it comes to emotions, he is very much aware of your unusual behaviour

Would most likely ask for some advice from Dr Glass

By ask I mean he booked in a therapy session for you and tricked you into going

And yes, you did end up going to see Glass

Simon then informed about your situation with Clef and he was stunned

If it was someone/something making you feel this way then he'd go out of his way to sort it out

After all, Clef is rather good at completing missions

Makes sure to comfort you whenever you're down and suicidal

Sometimes he'd even share his experiences with you

Would try and act goofy but came out rather annoying

Ended up asking Bright to help him cheer you up

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

Kondraki is a little dense but would notice something's off

Wouldn't be 100% sure so he just keeps the thought to himself instead

Would also go to Glass for some advice about your strange behaviour

Glass ended up teaching Kondraki some psychological stuff just so he can be left alone for once

Would never make you feel down about yourself

Definitely would motivate and compliment you

Acts all fatherly with you

Like he's protective with you to the point some people would jokingly say he's your dad

Making you share a room with him because he's worried and wouldn't act up weirdly when you're along

Kondraki might resort to asking Bright and Clef for some help

Might even ask Iceberg to do some of his paperwork because he wants to spend more time with you

[multifandomfanficss]

Perfect

Doctor x Reader (Platonic!Jack x Reader)

Prompt: When on an adventure with the Doctor and Jack the reader is attacked by an alien called a Psyfon, a race with psychic abilities who feed off of emotions. The reader gets stuck in their perfect dream realm and the Doctor has to save them before they die in there.

Warnings: Dead family members.

A/N: Pretty much any Doctor can be used, but I mostly thought of 10 and 11 while writing it. The aliens were inspired by the Djinn from Supernatural. I was also inspired by Doctor Who: The Infinite Quest a little bit so if you’re a fan of the main series you should totally check that out. Also please let me know if I made an error in pronouns. I tried to make the reader gender neutral so everyone could relate. 

You had been traveling with the Doctor for a while now and had run into Jack not long after you met him. When you first met Jack, an old friend of the Doctor’s, you didn’t believe him when he said he had known the Doctor for over a century. Judging by his earthly appearance and his age there was no way this could be true, but after watching him die you quickly learned of his immortality. 

You met the Doctor when he saved you from the Cybermen. Sadly he couldn’t save your family from such a terrible fate, but he got you out just in time. Ever since then they had been your biggest fear. Jack and the Doctor had lived for so long they both knew what it was like to lose the people they cared for most...nobody knew better than the Doctor. They helped you get through the pain that came after such a big loss. The Doctor would often hear crying coming from your room during your early nights on the TARDIS when he sat up late in the console room and he would be at your side in seconds to comfort you. He was always there for you no matter what. You wouldn’t have gotten to this point without him. By now the nightmares had gone away, mostly, and the scars had stopped bleeding, but they were still there. They would always be there. This history was a part of you forever, your history, and you were just lucky enough to have the Doctor in it. If you’re being completely honest with yourself you had grown a little bit of a crush on the Doctor. I mean who wouldn’t? He’s the Doctor. You loved him, but you would never tell him. You were happy living with his ignorance. Life was better in the bliss of your friendship. 

It had been just a normal adventure with your two best friends, Jack and the Doctor, but then again nothing was ever really normal with them. You were separated from your boys as your ran down a long dark corridor. Your shoes slapped against the cold, hard pavement as you rounded the corner. When you looked behind you there seemed to be nothing chasing you anymore. You stopped to catch your breath. 

The three of you had been investigating a series of psychic attacks that were leaving people brain dead and full of a strange blue goo. You weren’t sure what kind of alien could do such a thing, but you knew you had to find out. 

“(Y/N)?!” I hear Jack yell in a hushed tone. His voice echos throughout the empty building. You turn to look for him when you start to hear ringing in your ears and a giant pounding in your head. You feel your eyes close as your body hits the ground. 

THIRD PERSON POV

Jack stood next to (Y/N)’s body with his gun aimed at the monster while the Doctor crouched down to check their pulse. 

“You better hope they’re still alive!” Jack said as he shoved his big gun in the monster’s face. Usually the Doctor would object to pointing guns at people, but he was so worried about (Y/N) he didn’t have time to care about Jack’s manners. 

“What did you do to them?!” The Doctor asks standing up to look at the alien. They were from a species called Psyfons, a group of aliens who feed off the emotions of other people. 

“Don’t worry, they’re only sleeping,” the alien slurred. 

“For now,” they added. Jack hit the alien with the butt of his gun and knocked them out. The Doctor gave him a disapproving look.

“You should be happy. Knocking them out was the least I could do” Jack joked. The Doctor rolled his eyes and dropped down to (Y/N)‘s body again. Jack joined him this time. They were sweating. He placed his hand over their forehead.

“They’re burning up” Jack stated the obvious. 

“Yes, I know I-I I have to do-do this thing-“ The Doctor starts stuttering. 

“Then do it!” Jack cuts him. 

“But I can’t! I swore I’d never do it again! Not since-“ He started to get a little choked up.

“Since what?!” Jack questioned. 

“Not since Donna” The Doctor finished sadly. Jack put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. 

“It’s the only way to save them” Jack told him.

“It was the only way to save her too” The Doctor says sadly.

“Maybe it’ll be different this time” Jack suggests.

“We don’t know that” The Doctor says coldly as he puts his hands to (Y/N)’s head and enter’s their mind. 

(Y/N)’S POV

You wake up laying in the grass in front of your old house. You hear the sound of birds and the sun is just a little too bright for comfort, but it’s home. You take a deep breath of the fresh air. You smile, but you’re confused. You look over to see the Doctor standing in the TARDIS door. Jack is nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s Jack?” You ask. 

“Oh, popped off to see his friends at Torchwood, I suppose” The Doctor tells you. You nod as you look back to your house. 

“And we’re home because...” You wonder.

“The Psyfon knocked you out. I figured this would be a nice, safe place to rest for a while” He reminds you. 

“And I couldn’t just rest in the TARDIS?” You ask.

“I thought this would be a nice surprise” He says. 

“What year is it?” You ask. You doubt he would be able to bring you to a time period where your family is alive, but it never hurts to ask. 

“2021” He answers.

“So they’re not here” you say sadly.

“Who’s not here?” He asks.

“My family” You say becoming more sad, but more confused by the second. How could he just forget like that? You know he’s lived for a long time, but surely he wouldn’t forget something this important to you. Would he? He gives you a confused look.

“Doctor, my family is d-“ You’re cut off by the sound of a door opening. 

“You didn’t tell us you were coming!” You hear a voice say. You stop dead in your tracks and you go white. It can’t be. 

“Mom?” You say as you turn around to see her. You run to her and engulf her in a giant hug. 

“Woah, what’s that for?” Your mother asks delighted, as you practically knock her down. 

“I just missed you. That’s all” You say as you try to hold back your tears. 

“Where is everybody?” You ask, as it suddenly dawns on you that your family is alive. 

“Your father went to go pick up your brother and sister from school” She informs you. The Doctor comes up behind you and takes your hand. He squeezes it, giving you a big smile. He is an impossible man, but you never knew he could do something like this for you. 

“Why don’t you two come in? It’s almost time for tea” Your mother invites you in. You gladly accept, of course. You watch your mother go into the kitchen as you pull the Doctor aside into the living room and hug him tightly. 

“Thank you” You tell him. That’s when you start to let go of a few tears. 

“I figured it was time to go home” He says happily. The hug lingers a little longer than usual. He just holds you. Then he places a quick kiss to your cheek, just missing your lips. Your face goes red. This is completely out of character for your relationship with the Doctor. Sure you had always wanted to be something more, but he didn’t need to know that. You didn’t want your relationship with him to change. You figure it’s best to just dance around the subject. You pull away and clear your throat. 

“So, um...how did you do it?” You ask.

“Do what?” He asks looking lovingly into your eyes. 

“Bring my family back?” You ask with a slight chuckle.

“I didn’t” He says simply. That’s when your head begins to ring again. 

“Let me in, (Y/N). That’s it.” You hear the Doctor’s voice, but his lips aren’t moving. Suddenly there is a light and the Doctor shifts uncomfortably. He cracks his neck and stretches out his arms. 

“Good thing there was a body here for me to jump into or else that could have been disastrous” He comments. You give him a confused look. 

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry (Y/N), but none of this is real” He says plainly. 

“What?” You ask. This all certainly looks and feels real. The sound of a kettle whistle comes from the kitchen. The Doctor sniffs the air. 

“Is that tea?” He asks. 

“Tea’s ready!” Your mom calls from the kitchen. 

“Doctor, you need to tell me what’s going on right now” You demand. He looks into the kitchen and makes a face.

“The Psyfon. It put you in a dream state so it could feed off your energy and emotions. You’re dying in the real world. Turning to goo” He held out the last word as he made a face of disgust and interest. He gave you a sad look as he started to put the pieces together, of where you were and who you were with. You started to feel your legs give out from underneath you. The Doctor guided you to a chair. 

“I want to stay” You say numbly. 

“(Y/N), none of this is real” He starts.

“I don’t care. I want to stay” You repeat. 

“You’ll die in here” He begins. 

“Time works differently in dreams. I could easily spend my whole life here-“ You try to rationalize it.

“You’ll never see me again” The Doctor tries. 

“There’s a version of you here-“ You try, but are cut off again. He crouches down to your level and takes hold of your hands. 

“(Y/N), none of this is real. It will never be real. Your pain balances out your beauty. There wouldn’t be one without the other and that’s what makes you human and you are SO human. This is all in your head. You will be alone in here forever. Please just come home with me. There are people there who will miss you. Come back with me, back to the TARDIS, please!” He results to begging as a last ditch effort. 

“How can I go back when everything is so perfect here? I’m perfect here. I’m not a mess. I can just be me” You start to cry. 

“You’re always perfect to me and that little bit of mess makes you human. It doesn’t lessen your beauty or your creativity or your kindness. It just adds to who you are as a person” He says, wiping away a tear.

“Please. Come home with me” He begs. You nod in response as he gives your hands a squeeze. He gives you a sad smile. You stand together and you hear the doorbell ring. 

“That must be your father. He forgot his keys again” Your mother laughs as she walks to the door. The door opens and the Doctor pushes himself in front of your as three Cybermen crash through the door. 

“DELETE” One yells, as it kills your mother. 

“NO” You scream, as the Doctor tries to keep you from running towards her.

“She isn’t real! Come on!” He yells over the sound of pounding Cybermen feet as he pulls you out the back way to the garden.

“Where’s the TARDIS?” He asks. 

“It’s on the other side of the house!” You say as you pull him around the building. You lay your eyes on the beautiful blue box as the Doctor shoves his key inside. 

“YOU WILL BE UPGRADED” The Cybermen shout. Once unlocked, you push your way through the doors to find a hollow Police Box. 

“Why is this happening?!” You cry. The Doctor places his hands on your shoulders. 

“The dream is turning into a nightmare to try to keep you here. (Y/N), come on. You have to think. What’s keeping you here?” He asks.

“My family is dead!” You cry.

“Yes, something else” He tries to think. You look at his thinking face. His beautiful thinking face and it strikes you. 

“I’m in love with you” You blurt out.

“What?!” He looks back at you with a confused look. 

“The version of you here. I think he felt the same way” You give him an embarrassed look. He lets go of a big breath. 

“Well...” He starts as he tilts his head. 

“I suppose if admitting the way I feel gets us out of here then the real me doesn’t feel very different” He finishes quickly. 

“Wait, what?!” You respond. He gives you his classic Doctor smile before the Cybermen fade. Everything fades. The world goes black. 

You wake up crying with a pounding headache in your bed in the TARDIS. The Doctor rushes in just like old times. 

“It’s okay. I’m here” The Doctor tells you as he sits on your bed and wraps his arms around you. 

“I just had the most insane dream” You start to tell him. 

“Well...” His voice fades. 

“Doctor, was that real?” You ask him. He pulls back to look at you. 

“In a sense, yes” He goes on to explain the effects the Psyfon had on you and how he went into your mind to save you. He explains how you were unconscious when you came out of the dream state and that he brought you back to your room on the TARDIS to rest.

“Where’s Jack?” You ask.

“He’s bringing the Psyfon to the Shadow Proclamation for me where they will be tried for their psychological attacks. They won’t hurt anyone anymore” He promises. After you’ve calmed down somewhat he gets up to leave the room. 

“You should get some rest” He says opening the door. 

“Wait! Doctor, do you think maybe you could stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?” You ask. 

“Of course” He responds as he awkwardly climbs into your bed and wraps his arms around you. You almost forget about your confessions until he kisses you on the cheek. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N)” He says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Doctor” You say as you drift off to sleep to the sound of his dual heartbeats. 

[chaos-burst]

direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

*

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.  

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

*

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.  

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

*

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

*

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

*

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

*

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

*

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this...  how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.

[wordsfromthesol]

Reconciliation

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: togasbetch @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: You seek the help of an old friend when you accidentally end up in the middle of a blood bath. Word Count: 1.8k

It all started ages ago, when you walked into the same class as the infamous Timothy Drake. If it wasn't for the Wayne Grant, your parents would never have been able to send you to such a fancy school…not that you understood that at 5 years old. Since that day the two of you were inseparable. You had practically lived at Drake Manor, and when Mr. Freeze killed your parents, you did. Not that Jack and Janet had any idea.

A few years later Jack and Janet were gone and Tim was taken in by none other than Bruce Wayne himself. Thankfully, Tim let you remain in his house. At first, everything was normal, but after the first year, he started to visit you less and less. He became more distant and secretive with each interaction and eventually, he stopped coming altogether. You made the decision to leave once you graduated high school, after all, it had been over a year since Tim had bothered to come see you. What would he care?

You jumped on a bus, clutching a backpack full of your belongings…and a few things from the Drake Manor. Somehow you lucked into a full-time nanny job for some wealthy family a few hours away. You were afforded a small living quarters, a stipend, and access to anything already at the mansion. The little girl was only 3 years old at the time. It's hard to believe that was 2 years ago.

You and Kaylee were upstairs when you heard a large group of people force their way through the front door. As you peaked out of the room, you saw a parade of people with their guns drawn. Immediately you rushed back into the room and whispered, "We are going to play a game."

"Game?" The child's ears perked up. You nodded your head as you made your way to the window. Opening it, you slowly climbed out and motioned for her to follow. You had no idea how long you stayed up there, pressed against the side of the house praying no one came looking. Eventually, the noises had stopped.

"Wait right here for me, okay?" She nodded as you made your way back to the window. "Don't move a muscle until I come for you." Your mouth hung open as you descended the staircase. Bloodstained the room as bodies littered the floor. As you walked over to the filleted bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Barco, your vision blurred as you felt the back of a hand strike your face. Staggering backward, you opened your eyes to see a man grinning before you. His eyes trailed down your cheek and landed on the sizable ring that graced his own finger. You began to feel the warm blood drip down your cheek. A state of panic washed over you just as you felt your knuckles collide with his ribs. Dodging his next blow, you thrust your shoulder into him and grappled for the gun tucked in his waistband. He looked almost pleased as he stared down the barrel.

"Whatcha gonna do with that, hun?" When you refused to answer, he continued. "You know you're going to be dead soon. What's the point…" Your eyes locked onto his hand, which was slowly inching towards your own.

**

The ringing in your ears had just barely subsided when you reached the top of the stairs. You slowly climbed out the window and ushered Kaylee to come inside. Her feet had just touched the ground as the words lucidly fell from your lips. "I need you to promise me that you won't open your eyes. We are going on a surprise trip." If Kaylee could tell something was wrong, she wasn't letting you know. You walked as fast as you could with the small child on your hip.

Your mind had gone completely blank, your eyes glazed over as you drove. You didn't know where you were going, but your motions seemed instinctive. As you pulled up to the gates, everything began to wash over you. Pressing the call button, the only words you could stutter out were: "It's Y/N. I need Tim." Thankfully, the message worked and the gates began to open. You drove up to the ornate front door, but couldn't force yourself out of the car. A knock on the window shook you out of the trance. It was Alfred.

"Mx Y/N, welcome. Perhaps you and your guest would be more comfortable in the house. I have already summoned Master Timothy." You just nodded as you stepped out of the car. Every move your body made relied on muscle memory: opening the back door of the car, unfastening Kaylee's car seat, placing her on the ground beside you. Alfred led you inside to the kitchen before kneeling down and facing Kaylee. "And what is your name?"

"KAYLEEEE!" She gleefully screamed at him.

"Ahhh, Miss Kaylee. How would you like a snack?" Kaylee's eyes went wide as she furiously nodded her head up and down. Kaylee looked up to you for permission as Tim rounded the corner, already speaking.

"Alfred, what's so --" Tim froze as he saw you sitting at the kitchen counter.

"You my Y/N/N's friend?" Kaylee narrowed her eyes as she glared at Tim. Her eyes softened as Tim slowly shook his head yes. "Make sure they get ban aid. Prefably a princess one." Once satisfied, she turned her attention back towards Alfred and her snack.

**

You turned towards Tim, revealing the gash on your cheek surrounded by a newly forming bruise. Tim rushed to your side, grasping your hand in his, just as the words began spilling from your mouth. "Tim, I'm so sorry. I just didn't know where else to take her. They were dead..."You felt your body giving out, "all of them…"

"Calm down. We'll figure this out. You need rest." He refused to let you speak anymore as he scooped you up from the chair and carried you upstairs. Carefully, Tim sat you on his bathroom counter and began cleaning the wound. Once it was bandaged he brought you over to the bed. "Now what happened?" He looked at you, his heartbreaking as he watched the tears fall from your eyes.

"They're dead. So many bodies. Tim, I can't see anything but blood." You collapsed into his chest, trying to conceal the overwhelming panic.

**

You had no idea how long you stayed like that, all you know is you woke up with Kaylee cuddled to your chest and Tim sitting at the adjacent desk.

"Tim?" His eyes shot up at the sound of your voice. You slowly got up and walked down the hall and into the study. You didn't check to see if Tim was following you, but you knew he was. Ignoring the unknown man already occupying the room, you continued onto the balcony. "I just don't know what happened." Your eyes glazed over as you stared into the distance. You knew if you looked at Tim, you would break down again. "People stormed in with guns. Me and Kaylee hid. Once I came back in, everyone was dead. Her whole family. Their security team. Everyone. And then this man came up and struck me. I thought I was dead. All I could think of was Kaylee, sitting on the roof, alone, confused. And I shot him." You turned around and stared into Tim's dark blue eyes. "They're going to kill me now. Aren't they?" The tears bubbled up, but you refused to let them fall.

"Y/N, how much did you know of that family?" Concern laced his voice. That voice that you hadn't heard in years. That voice that used to be your home.

"They were rich and needed a nanny." You looked down at your fiddling fingers, "I didn't have many options, so I didn't ask any questions."

Tim took a deep breath, pushing down his anger. "They are…were one of the biggest crime families in the country." The words rang in your mind as you forced your eyes back on the horizon. You didn't even realize Kaylee had woken up and walked into the study. Or that the unidentified man took her by the hand and led her from the room carrying a fairytale book. "You really didn't know?" Tim's brows furrowed.

Too many emotions were spinning around your head until one of them exploded. "Why the fuck would I know that?!" You made no attempts to sedate your anger.

"You worked for them for years, Y/N!"

"Well clearly you knew, so maybe an old friend should've warned me!" The anger wasn't geared towards him, not really. Though seeing him again, feeling all this again, that's something you never thought you'd have to do. And that was just the icing on the cake. An eerie silence blanketed the air. "I shouldn't have come here," you mumbled before turning to leave. "I shouldn't have put you in danger."

**

Tim stood stoic as your words played over and over in his mind. He never told you of his nightly activities for this exact reason. So you wouldn't be thrust into this chaotic world. And now here you are, begging for his help, and he let you walk away. Again.

A pillow slammed into his face, knocking him from the stupor. "Probably not a good idea to let them leave. Love of your life, Barco heiress, not a great combination."

"Shit." Tim pushed past Jason, ignoring his snide remarks because unfortunately, he was right. Tim grabbed your arm just as you opened the front door. "Wait!" Tim yelled as he pushed the door closed. "I can't let you leave."

"Wh --"

"Look," Tim cut you off and began pulling you through the house. "I need to show you something."

**

"Where…where am I standing right now?"

"The Batcave." His voice faltered as he stopped in front of his Red Robin costume.

"So you're a superhero? Are you kidding me?"

"I don't have any powers, so I don't think I would qualify…" Tim's voice trailed off as he watched your eyebrows raise and a disapproving smirk form. "Anyways. I can help. I want to help."

"I can't ask you to do that." You tried to turn away, but Tim laid his hands on your shoulders. His eyes lingered on yours.

"You were supposed to be safe. Away from me. That's the only reason I let you go. I was wrong. You're safer with me and I'm not letting you go again."

[worldsover]

Fermata ft. Chuu

length ✦ 5651

genres ✧ Dal Segno sequel; dirty talk; oral; makeup fetish; more subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You write to keep your concentration and disconnect you from your ever-changing concerns. For all your ideas, the true crux of putting a piece together is actually making something concrete. The self-control you require to be consistent, and consistently creative, is what makes music so hard to stay focused on. This album must be finished. This year. No written promises but you have to do right by her after all you've invested. You fucked Jiwoo in the mouth yesterday. Real right of you to do.

“Coming!” Jiwoo must be far from the front door with how her holler resounds the apartment. Where do you put your hands? Pockets are natural though they don't feel like it. Many but not enough footsteps grow in loudness but you expect a stampede anyway when the door opens. Instead, only Yerim and Sooyoung manifest in the opening hallway.

“Hello, oppa! Jiwoo unnie is just… Umm. Taking care of business.” Yerim playfully elbows you when she pulls you in but you stop her to take your shoes off. Sooyoung sends a brusque wave your way and not much else as she collects assorted effects and clothing around the living room. There isn’t nearly as much noise as you expect.

Look around in confusion. “Did I miss something? Is today a holiday?”

“Jiwoo isn’t the only one who’s got schedules, PD-nim,” Sooyoung says.

Yerim turns around. She also has some nicer pants on, and a loose-fitting red top. “Unnie, you’re just visiting your family.”

“And that’s a schedule.”

“Well oppa, I have a CF to film so, ha!” Yerim raises a hand, victorious she just won the conversation. High five. She’s satisfied but Sooyoung gives no regard, clearly looking for something.

“What about the other girls?” you ask.

“I’m not a manager. Just count yourself lucky the dorm is so empty.” Yerim says.

“Damn, we can even record some demos too. Good thing I brought the mic. Hold on, before you guys go, wanna listen to some of our songs?” you say.

“Finally!” Yerim says.

“Just play it out loud, I can hear it,” Sooyoung says. You offer your help with whatever she’s searching for though she brushes you off and insists she can do it herself.

Yerim brings out a bluetooth speaker from underneath the living room couch and coughs because of whatever dust she just procured.

Pull out your Macbook from your backpack and connect it to the speaker. You think about which track to play and pick the one that shows off Jiwoo’s voice the best so far, Jiwoo - Deeper.

Yerim immediately gets into the beat, bobbing her head and dancing. However, when the chorus hits, her ears perk up and she starts cheering at the notes that Jiwoo belts. Sooyoung also turns an ear towards the speaker in curiosity.

A vacuum interrupts the music. Jiwoo swoops in with the machine, scurrying her shapely legs with no heed to their bareness. She pushes up her fake circle glasses and says over the commotion, “I knew you needed this! Oppa, hello!”

“I’m trying to listen to the music here!” Yerim covers her ears.

Sooyoung looks down and pauses at the edge of the couch. “Oh hey, there’s my bracelet! Really nice music by the way!”

“Wow, you guys are so kind.” Jiwoo says, her voice piercing the screaming vacuum without effort. She turns it off realizing she's the only one can really do so. “You still like the music now?”

“No unnie, I mean it,” Yerim says.

“Why are you wearing just that big tracksuit sweater? Do you even have shorts on?” you interrupt the gushing. Jiwoo turns around and hugs herself as if she dropped a towel, even though her immodesty comes from her lower body. Good thing no one notices her sweater ride up for a moment to reveal white panties. Sooyoung looks at you confused while Yerim smirks to match yours. She wasn't even looking at Jiwoo but she could probably tell from your face. Damn, she’s too perceptive.

“Well, it looks like that’s my cue to go,” Yerim says.

“I’m so confused,” Sooyoung looks back and forth at you and the other two girls in the room. You shrug your shoulders, pretending to take solace in her ignorance of the situation.

“Come on unnie, we’ll go together. I’ll go out to get money and you go out to get your kisses from mommy and daddy.” Somehow that didn’t sound too offensive but Sooyoung punches Yerim anyway.

“Oppa, can you finish vacuuming for me?” You’re about to make a retort about labor laws but Jiwoo runs to the bathroom and immediately you hear Jiwoo practicing melodic runs. They’re definitely not the ones you taught her, unless moaning was part of the routine.

“So she has to get her vocal cords ready too huh? I’m suuure that’s all she’s doing in there.” Yerim keeps poking at your bicep with two fingers. You turn on the vacuum to try and hide her overt naughtiness but Yerim’s devilish look tells enough. For full measure, she winks at you as she drags Sooyoung out of the dorm. Mental note to deal with that can of worms for later.

Head to the big bedroom where Jiwoo’s still doing vocal exercises. Three bunk beds line the walls while pillows, blankets and bean bags litter the floor. As the centrepiece of the room sits a simple wooden table, short enough to rest on the polystyrene filled chairs while adequately comfortable to get work done. She stands proud on top of the table as she practices the actual runs you tell her to do.

“Oh, oh, ohhhhh, oh, ohhhhppa!” She jumps down from the table and nearly tackles you when she locks her legs around you in a hug. Take a second to balance yourself while holding her as tightly as possible.

“Jiwoo, you’re eager today.”

“Of course I am, oppa. I’m soooo excited to. Record. Of course.”

“Well if you are, please get off of me.”

“Oppa! You don’t like my hugs?” she says nearly falsetto. Her aegyo throws you off, so you throw her off. Onto a bean bag. “I guess that’s a no.”

“No, not no. I mean. We have to be focused, Jiwoo. Is there any rope or anything?”

“You just said we have to be focused, oppa.”

You wave your hands in denial. “What’d I say about acoustics?”

“Ohhh, like the foam at the studio?”

“Exactly. Especially with how big this room is, we’re going to have to need all the insulation we can get. Ahhh!” Your random shout rumbles throughout the room and startles the relaxing Jiwoo. 

She stands up. “I get it! Geez.”

“Oh yeah, I need a pop filter too.”

“A thin fabric right? For all the p-p-plosives.”

“Mhm.”

Inevitable. Jiwoo takes off her panties and you shake your head laughing in disapproval.

“Come on now, that’s just not sanitary,” you say.

“So you’re saying you don’t want them?”

“No, I’ll just confiscate them for your stupidity. Tsk. Find some pantyhose.“ She gets up. “Ahem. Not used.”

The panties have a tiny wet spot, and your nose takes a quick bask in its musk but Jiwoo immediately catches you.

“And I’m too horny,” Jiwoo says with characteristic sass. You put it in your pocket as she gets pantyhose from her drawer. After fashioning a stand for the pantyhose for her to sing into, you both get to work hanging up blankets from the bunk beds while clotheslines become pillow-lines. A makeshift room within a room, still centered by the table but now surrounding you with cushioning cloth instead of acoustically reflective drywall.

Barely enough space for jumping jacks but you start doing them anyway and it flummoxes Jiwoo for a moment. You don’t need to tell her to join in. Sit down to play an instrumental from the laptop and she pauses the exercise before you motion for her to continue. 

“I need you with the right energy for the beat.”

“Yeah, I figured. Synthwave is really popular now, huh?” Her bouncing to the rhythm rides her hoodie up again but now her cute slit and bare legs are plain to see. Your tongue dries your lips. She catches her breath before stretching one last time. Keep it together. “So are we recording?” 

You nod. Take out the microphone and two pairs of in ear monitors for listening, and connect all the devices to the computer. After setting everything up, Jiwoo gets up and you hold the microphone and filter for her.

Click. “Aaand, recording.”

Click. “One more.”

But that’s it. Two takes. You could not get a better sounding Jiwoo than that. Not a quick demo but the actual release vocal track, since even in such an imperfect recording environment, it sounds perfect to your ears. A little frustration since where was this Jiwoo in all the previous sessions? Maybe you’ll have to consider more visits for recording though you’re not sure if you could make another miracle happen to have everyone else out of the dorm at the same time.

“Jiwoo, that was a- Dammit, that was perfect,” you say.

“Of course, it was!” Not that there’s much room in the improvised recording studio but she ensures you feel even less of it when she gets closer. “Sooo. Wanna fuck my face?”

“That’s not the arrangement! You didn’t mess up.” 

“You definitely sound disappointed I did a good job,” Jiwoo says.

”Of course I’m not disappointed.” You sigh. Are we doing this again? A single flitter of her brows. “I’m not going to fuck your face this time, okay? You have to be able to take that dick all the way down yourself.”

No protests. She lowers her head once in gratitude. 

"Thank you for the meal!" Jiwoo says as she shows off her pearly whites in a big smile. She turns her head up to look at you lovingly as she cups your balls with her hands before she lowers her head again for a precursory smooch onto your cock. This time, she gives the same slow care to your shaft with her lips as she is to your balls with her hands. As if she wasn't going to ruin her makeup.

Restraining your panting and cries of ecstasy is arduous enough with Jiwoo engulfing you when-

“Kim Jiwoo!” Sooyoung’s voice reverberates from maybe the living room or the foyer.

Jiwoo side-eyes the study door. Her head does not stop its seesaw. Is this girl so entranced by your cock that she feels not an ounce of dread?

Sooyoung yells, “I forgot something! Just wanted to let you know I’ll be back later with dinner!”

“Okay! Thanks! We’re busy,” you choke on your words as Jiwoo does the same on your dick, “Uh, listening to the mix!”

Sooyoung, still shouting, but attempting to say lower, “Sorry! I’ll go now. Bye.”

Wait a few minutes before getting up, and of course Jiwoo’s lips are still wrapped around your cock as you walk towards the door. Dorm is empty. She must have performed magic taking off her shirt and underwear to play with herself because you can't remember if she's ever stopped sucking you off. The kinematics don't add up. More likely, you’re slightly faint from her perilous suction, making left and right difficult directions to parse from each other.

"Fuck you're already so good, Jiwoo." 

Pull her up and carry her to deposit onto the bottom bunk of the bed by the window.  She ends up belly diving onto the mattress’ surface and her buttcheeks recoil just the slightest bit.  Jiwoo notices and starts giggling when she plays around with her perky cheeks.

"You like my ass, oppa?" Nod.

“I said I wasn’t going to fuck your face today. Fuck. Maybe I’ll fuck you there instead,” you say in a low bass.

Her eyes turn into full moons at your suggestion. You laugh. 

”Naughty fucking girl. Next time, when you’re a good girl. Such a fun ass though.” Follow through with the compliment as you line up your cock to the prone girl’s mouth, arcing down to fondle her round buns. It's a miracle and also a bit embarrassing that your erection is soft after all that. Best guess is that it's had so much stimulation, but all of the masturbation after recalling your previous facefuck probably didn't help. Jiwoo takes her index and middle digits and raps them on your cock to a freeform beat.

“Aww oppa, your cock. I need to make it big and meaty again,” Jiwoo whines and her pout confesses that she's a little disheartened, however her eyes are more determined.

“Tell me all the ways you want me to use you." She raises her vivid eyebrows and lists her head a little forward. “Okay, miss ‘I won’t let go of this cock even when there’s others in the house’. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. Just relax and go on.”

“Hmph. Fine. Well, your dick is right here, sooo after I lick it up,” which she begins doing by inspecting your shaft with intent, before finding a spot she deems scrumptious enough to lap up. “You fuck this dirty mouth pussy clean while I play myself on my tummy just like this.”

Jiwoo sounds ridiculous talking with her tongue out but at the same time, her cheeky lisp fortifies your cock. Her hands wander underneath herself and she reels back, titillated by her own words. You watch the small woman fondling herself with both hands while your erection at half-mast presses against her face in suspense.

“I could flip myself over and I’d never let go of oppa’s cock, I promise, then you could see your bulge in my fuck hole.”

How could this girl talk so filthy? Her face doesn’t even look like it should utter the word darn, yet here she is giving a study of her throat’s distension from your dick.

Jiwoo continues, one hand rubbing her clit fervently, “Then, maybe. Maybe oppa could get on top of me and pretty please eat my little pussy out while he shoves his cock into me?”

You couldn’t just stand idly by, though it wouldn’t be the worst with how her mouth vibrates your cock harder as her tone gets more gravelly and hungry. When you reach down, you see her wet slit preoccupied with two fingers from her other hand. It doesn’t stop you from slipping one in the increasingly creamy hole.

“Then oppa, if you still wanna at least?” her voice shrinks, but then returns in volume as she crescendos, “You keep your mouth on my slit as you lift up my legs and your silly slut is upside down and she’s choking on your cock and Jiwoo can’t breath and all the blood rushing to her head and you cum and Jiwoo doesn’t let any of spill out cuz Jiwoo is a good slut for oppa, and oppa, oppa, please!”

You join in stroking and rubbing her squishy soaking pussy lips and she looks up from her haze.

“Kim Jiwoo.” Your voice is stern and it seems more than any physical stimulation that your deep beckon is what sends her past the edge. Her pussy swallows whole your finger still inside her, wetness replacing all sensation that the digit once had. She accompanies her whole body’s spasms with loud visceral moans. It takes more than a mere moment to close her eyes and restore her breathing. The bedroom smells a little salty from all the fluids leaking her mouth and slit.

“How much porn have you been watching?” you say.

“As much as you oppa.”

Swallow down a bit of spit. “Huh?”

“Remember our very first recording session, you forgot your laptop and I returned it to you?”

“Fuck,” you say. Jiwoo stretches and lay spread-eagle on the bed, a gooey strand connecting between her two thighs. She licks her fingers.

“You're lucky I found it. Oppa, it’s all your fault I’m like this. Plus all those fancams of me in the same folder. I wanted to confess sooner but I needed more opportunities to be with you.” She sucks her hand more earnestly.

“I didn’t think sucking dick counted as confessing.”

“Hey, I did say I like you. Did you already forget? Tsk. Typical boy.”

“Look at this dick.” You didn’t have to say that because she’s already drilling holes into it with her eyes. “Remember how I said I was basically recording for free? Make your own inferences.” The round shape of her mouth in understanding is perfect.  "Now, open wide."

"Yes! Mm..."

 It’s hard to say which position is your favorite.

Fucking her face is straightforward but you pay closer attention. You’re certainly not down that deep, as you can still feel her uvula recoil on your tip and react with thick gagged out spit. Nothing like your cum but she sucks and spits the liquid in and out anyway. She definitely enjoys playing around with fluids in her mouth.

Jiwoo pulls away when she upturns herself, as she coughs with whatever throat muscles you hit. Her head hanging upside down off the mattress would be the perfect perspective to see your cock’s imprint on her neck but she still can’t manage the depth. The angle certainly makes your pistoning easier as your balls slap against your nose in more forceful pushes, playing vulgar slapping noises that mix with her gagging.

Afterwards, you lean over and move her head to get the mattress’s support instead of dangling. Hunch down to her wetness and the taste of her nectar more than makes up for the difficulty of thrusting while on top of her. Already having difficulty breathing with a cock in her airways, you don’t want to crush her under your weight. Still, you spend the most time between her thighs, taking in the muskiness of her pussy and all that it releases. It explains Jiwoo’s long drawn breath through her nose if you have a similarly alluring scent. There’s also the possibility your length steals too much air from her wet, gagging mouth but in this position, it’s her choice to hold your shaft in her throat for that much time.

Pick her up by the ass and cup the top of Jiwoo’s cheeks. Well, now they’re the bottom as she’s upside down in this piledriver sixty-nine position, both of you sucking and licking as closely as possible. She’s definitely enjoying the scents and tastes. You could drop her on her head and she'd thank you if you kept your cock in her mouth. Maybe you heard her mumble something like “yummy”, but anything resembling consonants are far past the point of physiology and linguistics. If anything, holding Jiwoo upside down makes her look more like a used sex doll than the cute girl that she is. 

A whole lot of mess to clean up later. Cans of Febreeze, maybe some rags and a mop. New sheets, soaked with nearly every bodily fluid mouthfucking can provide. However, all that work pales to the pure torture you’ve put upon yourself to not cum.  It helps with how often you pull out of her mouth as for all her prodigal gagging, she also looks thankful when you give her moments to rest her jaw and lips. Somehow you're in control the entire time yet you have not an ounce of it, avoiding your inevitable fate. Finally, you can rest. Now you’re thankful you jerked off many times before this to last as long as you have. 

Of course, resting did mean you were on an office chair and she was on her knees, but still. It’s a break from all the exercise.

“You know oppa,” she says with a smile on her face.

“I was waiting for you to ask,” mumbling as she often does on your erection.

“Jiwoo-ah! Wear lip gloss.” How she manages to get that out so adorably with a cock in her mouth, you will never know.

“But I figured,” bobbing down, “I was sucking you off so sloppily,” and up, “It’d be such a waste of makeup.”

The girl made a point though you say, “I’d still like to see it one time. Alright? I don’t wanna have to ask either.”

“Okayyyy.” She says as she purrs on your dick. The little devil knows how weak you are when she talks with a full mouth. You still aren’t going to succumb this time. Pulling out of her mouth is as difficult as last time but you snap your head back and you snap your head away. 

"Nooo." A familiar cry. What if she didn't even like the taste of cum? No time for questions as your body falls apart in the clashing brass and woodwinds. The obnoxious dissonance making you pulse and pulse. You aim below her neck to allow the cum to drip down her collarbones and petite tits. Rub her nipples, sticky with your load and she lets out a little squeal when you tweak them.

"Pwetty pwease oppa. Your cumdump Chuu-ah really wants your cum." She puts her pointer on her swollen cheek. God, she's too much for one man but that’s the situation you put yourself in. 

Plop. 

Plop.

"Jiwoo, please. It's so sensitive," you whimper as she keeps sucking the tip.

"You get to do whatever you want oppa."

"Fuck.” Pull Jiwoo off of you. “Maybe I will."

You collect your load from her tits as an impressive volume drips down.

"Ahh," Jiwoo says but you push her down one last time with your unstained hand and your other uses a finger to penetrate her little pussy, providing it with the semen that she desperately wants.

"I hope this is good enough for now." Her squeaks in time with each finger on your sticky hand exploring her insides confirm that it is indeed.

A step closer and your rehardening cock finds her labia, small but inviting. She gasps and shudders as you tease her pussy lips in a familiar way. It’s just as sensitive for her as it is for you with how much she sweats and writhes from the shaft The friction of the pussyjob is unbearable and instead of juices dripping from within her, a heavy volume of watery liquid squirts out. 

“I’m so, I’m so sorry oppa.”

“It’s okay, Jiwoo.” You put the tip in. “Doesn’t that feel so good.”

“Yes! Thank you. Awwww,” She says when you pop it out. In another world, that tip pushes past and you ravage her. But at this point, you have standards to uphold.

“Be a good girl for me and you can have more, okay?” Give her a rainbow dildo to practice with.

"Oh I already have one, oppa. This looks like it fits better though. Well I guess worse considering how much bigger it is. Just like. Yours. Fuck."

Despite all her orgasms, she looks ready to masturbate yet another time.

"We can't just cum all day Jiwoo," you say. She sighs and nods in understanding.

“Where am I gonna hide this? It really stands out.”

“Just keep it inside you.” Her eyes light up. “No wait.”

Jiwoo giggles. “C’mon oppa, they should be back any time soon.”

You finish up some final touches in your recording. There’s definitely more hitches when it comes to dealing with vocal recordings in such an improvised setting but it’s certainly not as much of a problem as looking at any of the other members in the eyes as you stay for dinner.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

tYou tend to get in a rush when you procrastinate as much as you do. It’s her first album, there’s no reason to rush her first album. Besides, the strength of any artist’s work is in their sophomore album, since they’ve had forever to work on that first one and now people are expecting the second. In either case, you really have time, but you don’t let yourself feel that. Instead, mixing and recording, once a job you enjoyed doing, has turned into a series of stressors in your life.

Jiwoo’s in a rush too. Why is she in such a rush?

“Hello. Oppa. I. Uh. Heard you got into a fender bender.” Every word sounds laborious as she opens the door to the studio. You step out into the hallway then look left and right. Nothing out of place.

“Yeah, just some scratches. You okay, Jiwoo?”

Her lips tuck in when she walks forward even a step. “Yep, doing juust fine. We gonna get to recording or what?”

“I mean if you say so.”

Each step towards the booth has her hitch her breath just a little, but she looks focused as ever so you waste no time and hit record. Should you text another member and ask if anything's off about Jiwoo today? Her singing is fine, maybe a little more vocal fry in her voice than usual, but it fits the sultry ballad.

You text Chaewon as Jiwoo keeps trying out different intonations for the pre-chorus.

Chaewon: "she was all flirty and weird today"

You: "lmao aight, tell something idk"

"yeah yeah, but this is different" 

"different how? she's always like that"

Jiwoo sees you typing and stops her singing to ask if anything's wrong. You shake your head and wave your free hand, gesturing for her to continue.

"i guess less wordy and more touchy today? good luck, lmk if you figure it out"

"i will. see ya later" 

Curious. You set your phone down and inspect Jiwoo's eyes and her crinkled nose. Hmm. 

A few hours later, you’re still recording. For how well the session at the dorm went, it feels like you’re back to square one with all of her mistakes today. She had such a good first takes too but her vocal quality is definitely receding, and in a different way than usual.

“I need to go to the restroom. I’ll be back,” you say into the microphone.

You go quickly to relieve yourself. A lot of water today. Needed it looking at Jiwoo in whatever weird state she's in. For some godforsaken reason you have an urge to take her mouth right now and completely ruin her. This album is never coming out.

Slowly creak the door to the studio open. No need for surprise anymore. Jiwoo pulls out a dildo from her sobbing vagina in the vocal booth and drags it up her body. Her eyes are closed, her focus clearly on the sensation of the dildo finally removed for her. She really went through with your suggestion. Must've been in there for a while considering Chaewon noticed something off earlier today. The dildo meets Jiwoo's lips, both wet from her desire and she shoves it in as deep as she can in the first try. 

Walk towards the Macbook and notice that it's recording. Shit, how much space did you have left on it? Hopefully, not going to have to clean it up later.

Finally, her eyes open and she smiles looking at you while she touches herself with one hand and deepthroats herself with the other using the toy you gave her.  She pauses her masturbation for a moment, tapping her ear. A new audio clip in Ableton, so put on your headphones.

“Come here oppa. I did a bad job today, didn’t I?”

The only words she needs for you to drop everything and walk into the booth. 

“You did,” you say as you unbuckle.

In a single stroke, she swallows your cock, matching the reinsertion of the dildo into her pussy. Jiwoo makes a tight vacuum seal with her luscious lips and shows off how well she manages her breath. Air squeezes through in her nose as you rarely unfastened yourself from her suction, and as she rarely allowed you to. Her lips are a good cock ring, her mouth a fleshlight. At the very least, this gave you much patience with her recording, knowing you were allowed to use your frustrations to turn the talented young lady into an object to use.

It’s incredible how little she has to touch herself to achieve orgasm when your cock is in her mouth. To be fair, keeping the dildo as long as she has inside of her must be a feat of its own.

“Jiwoo. Did you have this in you all day? I bet you’d prefer it were the real thing, huh?”

“Mmmhm. Mmmm!" She convulses at once. The toy squeezes in and out of her while she moans and spills saliva all over your cock. “Fuck, I wanted to cum all day but I had to wait. It’s your turn now, right?”

Jiwoo pulls out the soaked dildo and with her little fingers teases the skin of your dick before maintaining a tight grip. Her hand’s perfect rhythm and all the sucking she’s done so far today gets you right there and over the edge as quickly as she did. You unload all over the colorful sex toy and Jiwoo doesn’t let you have time to think as she puts the cum-covered toy back inside her.

You suck in some air. ”Who said you could have that cum? Lie down on the couch.” No pretense. Is there love between you two? Pull down her spotted top before mounting her modest but perky tits. It’s been barely a minute yet you’re already ready and solid once again. She tries to lean her head forward to retrieve her oral punishment-

“Thank you!”

Reward. Now that you think about it, maybe this isn’t working. The supine girl beneath you flitters her lashes, curious as to why you haven’t yet thrust into her mouth.

“You know much I love to see you work for it. Go on.”

As your cock is standing upwards at attention, she struggles raising her head to match yours, gently poking her tongue out to lick the frenulum.

“Ahh. No fair! I can’t reach. Ppfh.” She spits on it in frustration. “Ppptt. Let me have it.”

Her tongue wiggles around fruitlessly. Spit on her face in retort and you both laugh looking at the mess you’ve made. Yet at last, after playing with her food for what feels like an eternity, Jiwoo manages to wrangle your head with her tongue, guiding it to her eager lips.

“Now I better not feel that barrier, okay? Track 1.” And slowly force your way into her throat. You feigned frustration with her inability to fully take you down, but this was heaven. Regardless, stopped by her cursed reflex, you say: 

“Not good enough.” You’d almost feel bad about this.

“Again.” If it didn’t feel so good.

“One more.” Another submersion into her sopping mouth, the friction of her soft lips and tongue opposes all the lubricating slop from her throat. 

Unsheathe. “Oppa, oppa wait. Let me get something. You’ll like it.” You concede, getting off of her, and she pulls from her purse bright red lip gloss. “Watch me stain your cock!”

In a rush, Jiwoo vandalizes her lips red. Her makeup artist would be embarrassed. Of course, that makeup artist would be outright scandalized if they could see the precious idol with her back hunched over the arm of the couch, her upside down face inviting you.

You walk up and give her a good view of your balls. Tickle her neck and she leans forward to plant a pure kiss. On your cock head. “You know we haven’t kissed once yet? You haven’t even said anything about how you feel about me!”

“Neither did you.” Move your hands from Jiwoo’s neck to her bare chest and play with her stiffening nipples.

“Well, let me show you.” She plants another smooch on your shaft. And another. Yet another, until it’s turned into a full-on makeout session with your penis. The upended Jiwoo has to twist herself to leave the entirety of your flesh marked with lipstick stains. However, her best work is her french kiss where takes your dick in and plays around with her tongue, as if the mindless beast could kiss back. She leans her head back out one more time to receive you.

A sharp push and her tiny tits respond with the subtlest jiggle. 

All but an inch of your shaft covered red. “I’m so close,” she pouts.

“Well, so am I.” You keep thrusting and feel your orgasm get closer. You’re on the edge.

“Mwah.” Her lips’ release leaves your blank head even emptier.  “Mwah mwah, mwah.” She fixes her top back and wipes around her lips.

She takes wet wipes then a mask from her purse while you stand dumbfounded. There are four walls in the room. Wires spill from your laptop. One, two, three, four. You are one beat away from orgasm.

Her voice snaps your focus back. “Oppa, that was a good recording session, but you know. Ha Rin unnie has to pick me up. Bye!” Jiwoo scampers away, wiping at her face.

You might actually explode next time, in more ways than one. Guess you deserve this one though.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Just wanted to get one more thing done before the new year so I chose this since like I said, this was originally written as one part. In fact, this is actually the very first smut I wrote. However, I kept getting stuck and adding more, so a trilogy it is then. That’s right, one last one coming up!

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Hello!! We have not interacted in while!! But I love you and I check your blog religiously!!<3 can I request some more lance sweets fluff? Or angst/fluff? Honestly whatever you’re willing to write I’ll be giddy to read. Ty! I love you so much!! I hope you’re doing well!!<3<3

@doctorsteeb

Hi!!! Just let me say I absolutely adore you and it makes me so happy to know someone likes my writing this much! I will totally try and write anything you request! I’ve got a few stories in the works for Sweets now, but here is a little late Christmas story for you! 

Christmas Greetings

Lance Sweets X Reader

Summary: After a year of being in a relationship with Sweets, you’re finally getting the chance to meet his family, or the people at the Jeffersonian in other words. Oh, and it’s at a Christmas party, for some holiday cheer this season.

Words: 2573

---

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” You ask nervously, fingers shifting against the porcelain crockpot in your hands.

Sweets slips an arm around your waist and gives your side a gentle squeeze, “Trust me, they’ll love you.”

You take a deep breath and nod. It doesn’t really ease the nerves buzzing in your chest, but at least he is right there beside you. You and Lance had been in a relationship for a full year now, and you had yet to meet his colleagues somehow. It already feels like you know them though, from all the stories he’s told you, especially his partner Booth, and his wife Doctor Brennan. You’ve wanted to meet them for so long (which lead to quite consistent pestering on your part) but now that you’re finally standing here, your stomach is tying itself in a knot.

Christmas dinner is a huge deal, after all, and so are first impressions. What if they don’t like you? You weren’t in the science profession, so what will you even talk about? Sometimes you struggle to even understand some of the things Lance talks about, so how are you going to talk to the country’s foremost anthropologist?!

“Stop worrying, everything will be okay.”

You jump when you feel Sweets press a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch lingers, sending a soothing warmth flooding through you, finally easing the tension in your shoulders. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, head resting against his shoulder for just a moment. When the two of you draw away, you tilt your chin up and let a smile capture your lips.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Sweets chuckles and raps his knuckles against the door. Moments later, it swings wide open, letting the glow from inside cascade over you.

“Sweets!” You’re greeted by a man that towers over you, making you slightly shy away, but Lance keeps a steady hand pressed against the small of your back. The man gives your partner a side hug, clapping him on the back before turning to you with a wide smile, “And you must be (Y/n)! We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh really?” You glance over at Lance, who’s looking down with a bashful smile. His cheeks are glowing the softest rose color, which sends your heart thrumming. How can he be so cute?

“Is that Sweets and (Y/n)?” A woman comes rushing up behind the man. She offers you a sweet smile, just as vibrant as his.

Their excitement is so infectious, it fills you to the brim with a fresh energy, and now your own smile is wholly genuine. You weren’t expecting such a warm welcome! Why were you so worried about all of it, these people seem so wonderful.

“(Y/n), this is Booth, my partner at the FBI, and Doctor Brennan, the lead anthropologist at the Jeffersonian,” Sweets introduces you.

The woman, Doctor Brennan, is quick to shake your hand and say, “Please, call me Temperance, and come in. We are almost ready to eat, we have ham, and I also made a tofurkey.”

“Really?!” You gasp excitedly, darting in to follow her to the kitchen and leaving Sweets at the door, “I’ve been looking for a good seasonal tofu recipe for years! Could I possibly, maybe get it from you after dinner?”

You plop down your contribution to the meal and fall into an excited conversation with the scientist. You had no clue she was a vegetarian like you, and it’s not every day you get to talk to another! Sweets and Booth watch the two of you from the entrance, both sporting fond glints in their eyes.

“Thanks for inviting us, Booth,” Sweets hums as he shucks off his winter jacket, “(Y/n)’s been eager to meet the team, especially you and Doctor Brennan.”

The older man shrugs, though he has a pleased smile on his face, “Anytime Sweets! Bones will take any chance to make her ‘meat substitutes’. Remember how excited she got when you told her about it?”

Sweets nods, it is always memorable when Doctor Brennan shows such strong emotions, which wasn’t always often around him. He had even gotten the chance to help her plan the dinner, not that you knew about that. It filled him with warmth to watch you excitedly flutter around the kitchen, and to see how your eyes practically sparkled as you helped the anthropologist set up the dishes.

“You really love her, huh?”

A sigh escapes Sweets as he nods again, “I do. She’s amazing…”

Booth can’t help but feel a small swell of pride in his chest. He’d never admit it, but Sweets was like a little brother to him, and seeing the young psychologist so happy just put a cherry on top of the night he was having.

“Lance!” Sweets looks up at you, a wide grin spreading across his face when he sees you aggressively gesturing him over, all the while bouncing on the balls of your feet, “Come here! You have to check this out!!”

You know it must seem childish to some, but you can’t help but get thrilled over a good meal, especially when it’s vegetarian. You can’t wait for the day that you can make Christmas dinner for your family, spending the whole day cooking and then just being able to enjoy a nice night and some Christmas carols. Sweets would be right there beside you, and maybe a kid or two across the table. A boy and a girl…

“What is it?”

You jump, a fierce blush splashing across your cheeks when you whip around and come face to face with Lance. He’s standing so close, your noses are practically brushing. Your breath catches in your chest, and you spin back around, hoping he doesn’t notice just how red you’ve gotten. Stupid daydreaming, you totally forgot you called him over.

“Mrs. Temperance has this amazing recipe fo-” Your voice breaks when Sweets presses in close behind you, arms snaking around your waist. You clear your throat nervously, “-for um, for vegetarian casserole. She says it’s really good, so I was thinking I could, I could try making it sometimes!”

“That sounds wonderful,” Sweets hums, the words vibrating through his chest and against your back.

It feels like your entire face is on fire now, to the point where you feel like you need to call the fire department. There was more you were going to say, but it’s like all your thoughts have been put in a mixer and are now scattered throughout your mind.

“Stop torturing the poor girl, Sweets,” a smooth voice scolds from a few feet away.

You glance up to see a beautiful brunette with tanned skin, and right beside her stands a slightly shorter man with some of the curliest hair you’ve ever seen. You swat at Lance’s hands and twist away from his grip, embarrassment flaring deep in your chest. Nothing you could say would help the situation, so you just wave at them weakly.

“Angela, Hodgins, this is (Y/n),” Sweets says as he pulls you back to his side with a cheeky grin, “(Y/n), this is Angela Montenegro, our forensic artist. And this is Jack Hodgins, our entomologist.”

“And botanist, mineralogist, palynologist, chemist, among other things,” Hodgins continues with a casual shrug.

Angela elbows him in the ribs sharply, not letting her glittering expression fall for even a second. “Excuse my husband, he’s just really passionate about his work,” she chirps, “It’s really a pleasure to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you from our dear Sweets here.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse softly with a giggle, “It's nice to meet you too, by the way! Lance tells me you're also a traditional artist?”

You spend the night making conversation with all of Lance’s friends. You meet Cam and her partner, Arastoo, who are so lovely and gentle to you. You ask Arastoo all about his beliefs and how he came to work in forensics, and you even talk to Cam about her daughter. You also get to talk to some of the interns at the Jeffersonian. Each conversation just pulls you in, even if you don’t understand everything they’re saying. You’re literally talking to the leaders of forensic sciences, who wouldn’t take the chance to ask them all the questions and praise them for their work! Even through dinner, you share a quiet conversation with one intern, Finn, about his time before coming to Washington DC. Afterwards, you all take to lounging in the living room to enjoy some eggnog and story telling.

“So how did you and Sweets meet, huh?” Angela asks as she plops down next to you and Sweets on the couch.

The entire team falls quiet, all eyes immediately set intently on you. You shy back into Lance's embrace, which makes him chuckle and hold you tighter. Was your story really that interesting to all these people? Really?

“Do you want me to tell them?” Sweets asks you quietly, fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder.

“Yeah, your memory’s better anyways.”

“He has to learn all that psychobabble somehow,” Booth jests from across the room, earning a disapproving look from his wife but some amused chuckles from the rest of the guests.

Sweets just rolls his eyes, easily brushing the jab off as he starts your story, “So, we actually met at a christmas party, just like this one. A mutual friend invited us and we started talking, and things just kind of...took off from there.”

You can’t help the snort of laughter that breaks from your lips when Lance trails off. He perks an eyebrow up, peering down at you in confusion, which only serves to send you into a bigger fit of giggles.

“What?” He asks, voice pitching up.

“Nothing, nothing,” you chortle, pressing a hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter, “You just left out a small tidbit. A pretty important tidbit.”

“Oh, did he?”

The room waits for you to calm down, but when you do, you just stare intently at Sweets with a raised eyebrow. Did he actually forget the beginning of the story? And right after you praised him for his memory! You wait for just a moment longer, the words perched on your tongue, waiting to see if he gets there on his own. It’s only when you see his eyes blow wide and his entire face flush red that you let the words tumble from your lips.

“What he failed to mention, is that we didn’t just meet and start talking. No, no.” Now it’s your turn to grin cheekily, “We met under the mistletoe, by chance, and you all know how the tradition goes. We started talking after that and found that we actually had a bit in common. It was about a month later that our mutual friend decided to share with me what actually happened that night.”

It begins to dawn on some people what you’re alluding to. You can hear some giggles ring out behind you from who you’re sure is Angela and the other women. Sweets is getting darker by the second, even his ears are tinged with that appealing rosy glow. This is totally payback for his teasing earlier.

“So, this is how the story actually goes, according to our friend,” you finally continue, “Apparently, I caught Lance’s eye when I got to the party. Back then though, he was a bit shier, and didn’t want to talk to me without a reason, sooo….he and our friend came up with a plan to have us meet under the mistletoe ‘accidentally’.” You break out some air quotes for the last word to stress just how silly the story is.

“Sweets, you dog,” Hodgins laughs.

“I never thought Sweets would come up with such a devious plan,” Temperance states amusedly.

“Alright, alright,” Sweets waves his hands in the air, looking thoroughly flustered much to your pleasure, “In my defense, she looked absolutely beautiful that night. Anyone would have been intimidated.”

Something warm and fuzzy fills your chest as you tuck yourself back into Lance’s side. To think, you almost didn’t go to that party last year. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met the most amazing person in your life.

“I can’t say I mind too much,” you chirp, eyes closing as you rest your head on his chest like a content cat, “I think I’m pretty lucky to be the one who caught his eye.”

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” Angela giggles next to you.

Maybe you are. You had never felt such a deep sense of affection for anyone, that is, until you met Lance. Now that you know what it feels like, you can’t help but return it full force, with every ounce of your being. He’s just been so good to you and has lifted you up in dark times over the past year. You couldn’t ask for anyone better, because you’re absolutely sure such a person doesn’t exist.

The rest of the night is spent telling stories and sharing sentiments. You stay tucked in Lance’s side the entire time, just enjoying the jovial tone and the sound of his laughter. When midnight rolls around, the party begins to wind down, filled with yawns and mumbled goodbyes as people take their leave. You and Sweets are some of the last to go, with Seeley and Temperance trailing you to the door.

“Thank you so much, again, for inviting us,” you murmur as you give the older woman a tight hug.

“Of course! You are welcome here anytime, and if you ever need anything, do not be afraid to call.”

“Yah, we’re always here to help. Though I’m sure Sweets here would do about anything for you,” Booth chuckles as he pulls away from giving Lance a hug.

Sweets gives his head a little shake and takes up his place next to you, “Thanks you guys, we really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Booth gives a little wave, “You two have a good night. Oh, and you might want to take a look up,” he chimes right before closing the door.

Your eyes dart straight up at that, landing on a small plant hanging from the doorway. Breathless laughter shakes your chest, pale clouds lifting from your lips in the cold night air. It’s mistletoe.

“Did you do this?” You look at Lance, who has one of the smuggest smiles that you’ve ever seen on him.

He gives you a shrug and draws you closer by a hand on your hip, “Maybe…”

You shake your head at his antics, but you can’t ignore the butterflies that swirl around in your chest. Even after a year, he still makes your heart race.

“Well then, don’t leave me hanging.”

Lance doesn’t hesitate to cup your face, tilting your chin up so he can capture your lips in a sweet kiss. For just a moment, you forget the cold, you forget how late it is and how tired you are. All you can feel is the warmth of his body next to yours, the thrumming of his heart under your palm. Even when the kiss comes to an end, the two of you stay close, foreheads barely touching.

“I love you, (Y/n),” he murmurs oh so softly, for only you to hear.

“I love you too, Lance. Merry Christmas.”

Again, I love you all so much, and I hope your Christmas was absolutely amazing! Send in a request and I’ll be sure to try and write it!

[olivinesea]

All Your Life

a/n: My attempt at an apology for the bad things I last did to Hotch. Inspired by @yourlocalheartbreaker always going on about Hotch being able to sing (a pleasant thought). ~1.3k

Just Jack & Hotch at bedtime.

It was his favorite time of day, the sun finally set and things moved slow. But not late enough yet to feel the anxiety that came with not sleeping, the early hours where he knew he was doing something wrong by being awake. No, now it was just the gentle moments when everything had finished and children were safely in bed. There was nothing left to do but find some soft place to lean into and maybe get lost in a book. It was the time when he could just appreciate that he’d made it through another day, without having to worry about what the next would bring. A rare moment of peace.

He wandered through the apartment, turning off lights, triple checking locks. He paused in the kitchen to wash the few dishes from their meal of macaroni and broccoli. A corner of his mouth twitched when he thought about the horrified disapproval of his friends but Jack was pleased with it and that pleased him. He boiled water for some tea, Penelope’s assurances running through his mind about the wonders of herbal tea and the near-magical benefits it provided for bad sleepers. He cut the kettle off before it made enough noise to disturb Jack. He’d been having nightmares lately and Hotch wanted to make sure he got all the sleep he could. The last thing he wanted was for his son to develop the same poor sleep habits as him.

He walked quietly down the hallway, already anticipating the warmth of his bed. The mug was heating his fingers and the rest of his body was demanding its share. He slowed as he got to Jack’s door, debating looking in, one last confirmation of his safety. He knew it was irrational but he felt waves of fear whenever Jack was out of his sight for too long. The family counselor said it was normal, that it was only a natural result of the trauma and loss they had both suffered not long ago. Hotch wanted to believe that but the illogical nature of it, knowing there was no way his son was not in his bed where he left him less than an hour earlier, clashed with this creeping fear. He wanted to conquer it, deny its existence and it felt as if giving in, opening the door to quickly check, would only give more power to the fear. Like it would only reinforce the hyper-vigilance he was repeatedly told was unhealthy.

As he struggled with himself, his ears caught a small whimper. It took all his self control not to throw the door open, to jump to fight whatever was causing Jack pain. He knew that action would only scare him and was completely unnecessary, regardless of what the animal instincts raging through him were telling him. Instead he knocked lightly before turning the doorknob. It was dark except for the nightlight, casting planet shaped shadows low on the wall opposite the narrow twin bed. He could just make out Jack’s little form, curled up with the blue spaceship blankets thrown off, shivering slightly.

It only took two steps for Hotch to be at his side, setting the mug down a little too hard, making it splash on the bedside table. He sat on the mattress more gently, touching Jack’s shoulder.

“Hey, buddy,” he said quietly, “what’s going on?”

Jack sniffled as he turned his head over his shoulder to look at his dad, his little face reddened and wet with tears he’d been trying to muffle. Looking at him twisted Hotch’s heart, he was familiar with the desperation of trying to hide sadness, trying to be okay. He hated that Jack was trying to hide this from him.

“I miss Mommy,” the little boy whimpered.

Hotch felt his breath catch, the words sending pain shooting through all his scars, all the places where his bones haven’t quite healed.

“Me too buddy” he said sadly, rubbing small circles on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack started to cry harder so Hotch scooped him up and held him close against his chest. He bent down and kissed the top of Jack’s head, smelling the sweet baby shampoo Jack still used because Hotch was terrified of getting real soap in his eyes. He let him cry for awhile, feeling the tears dampen the fabric of his t-shirt. As he cradled his son on his lap, he wished things could be different. He would give anything to get Haley back. Not for himself, he didn’t deserve that, but for Jack to have all the love he was owed.

After a little while he asked, “Do you want to talk to her?” It had been a suggestion from the counselor—that they begin the practice of talking to Haley as if she could hear, that this could help Jack to feel connection to his mother. That it might make it easier for him as he grew up without her there.

But Jack shook his head, holding his hand against his mouth, crying more softly but the tears unrelenting. Hotch thought, running his fingers through the soft blond hair as he wished there was someone to tell him what to do.

“Do you want me to sing to you?”

Jack pressed his face into Hotch’s chest and nodded his head, making a small humming noise so similar to the one Hotch made it was impossible not to recognize.

Hotch closed his eyes and grasped at a song. Though he had no memories of anyone singing to him as a child, he did clearly remember Haley doing it sometimes when he had nightmares. When they were young and it was just the two of them in the world. Before the cases and the criminals and the fights and the silences. He never could have imagined then that what had come before would be simple compared to what came after. That one day, sooner than anyone could have predicted, it would just be him alone again, stumbling through the responsibilities of caring for the only piece of Haley left in the world. The only piece left because he had failed in every way.

He pushed those thoughts away, he’d come back to his long list of sins later. This moment was about Jack. He hesitated, it had been awhile since he’d sung anything, tried a melody more complicated than some mindless humming. This felt important. Jack was snuggled against him, hot breath steaming his shirt. Hotch adjusted them so his back was against the headboard, long legs scrunched onto the child’s mattress.

“Alright,” he murmured, “Mommy liked this one.”

At first his voice was unsteady, but as he got to the second refrain he’d found his place. His voice was deep and Jack was soothed by the vibrations resonating through his dad’s chest as much as he was by the sound of his voice. He’d fallen back asleep by the second time through the song, a limp weight, heavy on his chest. Hotch sang it one more time, quietly to himself, to Haley, remembering being in Jack’s position while Haley ran her fingers through his hair, chasing away his bad dreams with her sweet voice.

you were only waiting for this moment to arise

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, not ready to disturb Jack, though he knew he’d pay for it with a sore back in the morning. He gladly let the sleep creep past the edges and slide him into a dream where Haley was there, singing with them.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Title: Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~11K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You'd just arrived at the airport when you got the call from Clyde informing you that there was a terror alert across the EU and flights were being grounded. He'd coordinate agents on the ground but there wasn't much you could do from the States, so you were off the hook until things got figured out.

Great, now what? *------------* Aaron walked towards the plane with the rest of the team, with Reid already spouting facts around unsubs who preferred to shoot their victims from a distance rather than up close. He climbs up the steps and turning, is greeted by you, seated in your usual chair. "Hey, what're you doing here?" He walks up towards you, the rest of the team following close behind, equally surprised to see you. "EU terror alert," you explain while he stashes his luggage away, nodding hello to everyone else. "Clyde said I'm free for the time being and I was already at the airport. Garcia read me in." "Well, it'll be good to have you, kid." Rossi takes a seat in the aisle across from you guys. "Seems like an all hands on deck sort of situation." Everyone settles in and you can't help but notice the small smile that seems to linger on Aaron ever since he saw you. The two of you had only had the past three days together and throughout that, you'd had a soccer match for Jack, a birthday party for one of his friends, and you'd spent Saturday night with the girls; needless to say, it had been tough to get time together for just the two of you. "Was Jack okay?" you ask, turning to Aaron after everyone had finished talking through some of the case details and started to build a preliminary profile on the Unsub. Aaron nods, but your question catches JJ's attention, who looks to you with her eyebrows raised, the puzzled expression on her face imploring you to explain. You're unable to help the smirk that plays at your lips as you do. "We had a - um - staff meeting this morning that Jack wasn't invited to. He wasn't too happy that the door was locked," you explain, biting your lip and barely stifling your giggles. "A staff meeting?" Emily raises her eyebrows at you and you can just imagine the dirty thoughts running through her mind along with the Wow Y/N only soccer moms call getting railed a staff meeting. You meet Aaron's eye and you can see the soft blush to his cheeks that only you would notice. "I simultaneously regret and appreciate my choice of words there," you murmur to him as he shakes his head in amused disapproval. Derek barks out a laugh in reaction to Emily. "Uh huh. Was it a successful meeting?" he asks, wagging his eyebrows at you, toeing the line at ribbing Aaron as well. "I think both parties were pleased with the outcome. At least according to my notes." You turned to look at Aaron, mirth flitting into your gaze. "Would you concur?" He has a small smirk on his face mirroring yours, no doubt thinking back to the fifteen minutes the two of you had caught together before you had to get ready to leave for the airport - once against the aforementioned locked bedroom door and a second in the shower, before you begged him to relent, otherwise you'd be late. He'd been intent on a third. "Some good points were made. However, we might have to do a follow up to ensure we're still aligned," he drawls, getting far too much enjoyment out of the effect his words and low voice would have on you. You lose it at that, unable to keep a straight face. Follow up indeed. "Gross. I feel like I just watched my parents flirting." JJ groans, pushing up from her seat to go rummage around for snacks in the back. She was due anytime now and would be gone on maternity leave starting the following week. She was already mostly out of the field, staying in the precinct and managing the team from there. You knew, that as a result of that, Aaron was actually out in the field a lot more because he trusted JJ to handle the emotions and politics of local officials far better than anyone else. "Morgan, could you check if we're stocked on the M4 ammunition?" Aaron switches gears towards preparing for the landing, a quick brush of his hand to your thigh in promise that there would indeed be a follow up to this morning's activities. Derek nods and gets up, checking on the rifles stock that was brought along. With an Unsub like this, the team would need to be equally equipped to handle any situations that might arise, especially in a sprawling Texas city where guns were aplenty. "Guys," Spencer pipes up, "I don't think I'm actually allowed to use those." He glances around at the rest of the team apprehensively, as Derek and Aaron share a calculated look at his admission. "You're not," they both tell him almost simultaneously, drawing a snort from both you and Emily while Rossi merely smiles and shakes his head, turning his head back to his notes. Reid looks offended and turns on you at that. "Are you certified to shoot those?" His tone implied that he highly doubted you. "I've been shooting since I was six years old," you inform him, a superior look on your face. "I actually set the Academy record for most weapons certifications earned by a trainee." Aaron presses his lips together to keep from smiling while Emily shakes her head with a laugh at you goading Reid. "I didn't know six year olds were allowed to handle guns." "If you're rich in Connecticut, you can do pretty much anything. Just look at the Kennedys." "Touché."

Spencer grumbles to himself a bit more, slouching into his chair. It was his one weak point and he was getting better at it, really. On pretty much everything else, you're sure he'd have you beat.

You turn towards the research you'd been conducting on your own case with Clyde, in your downtime. Things were starting to fit together in an unexpected manner, and you'd had to bend a few rules to start putting all the different pieces in, but you were finally making some headway. It would definitely be faster and easier if you could enlist Garcia's help or bounce ideas off of Aaron, but your hands were unfortunately tied due to the high level of clearance you'd had to obtain to work this case in the first place.

Aaron watches as your head is bent in concentration, his own focus flickering away from the case ahead. You'd only been home for three days but you'd mentioned that your assignment at last had an end in sight. He's hopeful that that means things will be calming down - the two of you would be around one another more again. While Jack had so far done a good job of keeping the secret, he also gave his father a very telling, excited look anytime he saw you, and Aaron could often see Jack's eyes going to your hand where he hoped a ring would soon sit.

*------------*

All of the bodies thus far had been found at the grounds of various places of worship around the city - a few Churches, a Temple, and a Mosque. It would appear most of the actual killings had happened at a different location and the bodies were then moved and left to be found the next morning by unsuspecting worshippers, children, and groundskeepers. The Unsub was an equal opportunity killer - no discrimination in the religious leanings of his victims.

So far the victimology was all over the board - a college student, a local politician, a priest, a housewife, and a video game developer were the five victims so far. It read like the beginnings of a bad joke. A rabbi, a priest, and a horse walk into a bar…

The Unsub had left the bodies of each victim at their chosen place of worship. That, in itself, felt highly personal so there was a chance that the Unsub personally knew each of their victims. This was supported by the methodology - killing the victims from afar was easier on this particular Unsub's constitution.

The team had been spitballing; attempting to establish a connection between the victims. Reid and JJ were working on the geographic profile. Well, Spencer was at least. JJ kept having to leave to go to the restroom every five minutes. In that moment, you definitely did not envy pregnant women. Bearing children wrecked one's body.

The obvious religious themes were all in scope. The theory at the forefront was that each of the victims was being punished for a perceived sin, and Garcia was doing a deeper dive into their finances and online history while the rest of you got to know the families and the victims personally to wrangle out the truth. This was the most difficult part usually - even if someone was an awful person whilst alive, most people became reluctant to speak ill of the dead.

Trusting JJ to handle the centralized headquarters that the team had set up, Aaron left with you to do one set of the interviews. He wanted to speak to the parishioners of the church where the priest had been found, his body jutting out of the confessional booth. You both noted that it was on the opposite side from where the priests would typically sit, symbolically speaking to the fact that the Unsub considered the priest to be a sinner.

"I mean, he's a priest in a Catholic church," you said as the two of you walked up the pathway to the entrance. "The obvious definitely comes to mind."

Aaron agrees with a grimace. Father Patrick had led a youth group and had been doing so for the past decade. There was a high chance the Unsub could be a current or prior victim of sexual assault at his hands. He could also be someone whom a potential victim had confided in, so your suspect list was pretty wide open for the time being.

As suspected, every conversation you had - with church docents and members alike - was highly complimentary to Father Patrick. He was good with the children, kind to the female staff, had a fairly middle ground interpretation of the Bible; an all-around pillar of the community.

"Hopefully Morgan and Prentiss have better luck."

You nod, buckling in your seatbelt and commandeering the music, electing to actually play the White Album for once, drawing a smile from Aaron. He pulls out of the parking space and heads back towards the precinct. You smile to yourself as Aaron's deep voice croons along to Dear Prudence, his fingers tapping along to the beat against the steering wheel while you look out the window at the twilight Texas sky.

*------------*

"So, the girl, Rachel - total know-it-all, not unlike someone else we know…"

Reid glares at Emily as she trails off with a smirk. Her and Derek had gone to do another set of the interviews at the local university and had talked to classmates and professors to learn more about the first victim.

"We all have our suspicions about Father Patrick, but nothing conclusive there. The Councilwoman was taking bribes to block the legislation around the city's free internet policy per Garcia's research. That leaves Mrs. Abad and Ryan Cohen, the designer. We can't tell what their secret might've been, besides some high balances on a credit card for Mrs. Abad."

The team nods at Hotch, confirming his summary of the case so far.

"JJ and I have narrowed down the field to three epicenters across the city." You're surprised that Spencer gave JJ any credit at all for the work they'd done together. JJ had confided in you upon your return, that she'd told Spencer she was going to the bathroom and had instead taken a twenty minute power nap in a supply closet. Her maternity leave could not start soon enough, and you're glad that she's handling this pregnancy in a much more relaxed manner than the first, allowing herself the time off properly.

"Based on the current cadence, we could have another victim in the next couple of days." Rossi looks around the room grimly. You're all well aware that the window to catch the Unsub before another victim materializes is closing quickly. It also usually tends to speed up once the team arrives on the scene. Makes Unsubs nervous. Eager to finish the job faster.

"Would you say Councilwoman Crane was guilty of the sin of greed?" Derek's brow is furrowed, the beginnings of a concrete thought evident in his question.

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"Pride for the first victim, Rachel."

You agree again, but this time the rest of them are also following along.

"Seven Deadly Sins," Spencer surmises from Derek's trail of crumbs.

"What are all of them?" Emily asks, looking between Derek and Spencer.

Derek shifts from one foot to the other. "Pride, Greed," he lists off, counting with his thumb and index finger.

"Lust, Envy," Aaron supplies, tacking on to the end of Derek's sentence and prompting him to continue the count.

"Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth," Spencer finishes, turning to write them all down in order on the whiteboard.

The team was finally making some headway.

You stand towards the back of the room looking at the victim board, arms crossed across your chest, leaning against the back wall. "So, let's assume its Lust for Father Patrick. The excessive shopping could be indicative of Envy from Mrs. Abad. You guys did say she lived in a posh neighborhood. Keeping Up With the Joneses lifestyle."

"That leaves Gluttony for Cohen. Kid was pudgy." Rossi had been the one to visit the Medical Examiner, so you all trusted his assessment there.

"They're all in order. Could it be that simple?" Aaron questions, leaned forward in his chair, looking at the board with each of the victims' names listed next to one of the sins.

You contemplate his question as does everyone else. Could it be that simple? An Unsub working down the list of deadly sins, picking out victims that aligned with each one. It would stand to reason, given the working profile - you'd all decided that the Unsub must have an Orthodox religious upbringing, in a militant household.

"Occam's Razor," you answer finally, meeting his eyes, a grim set to your face. This meant there were at least two more victims planned. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one."

*------------*

In the past couple of days, the team had narrowed down the scope of the case, having realized that the Unsub had met all of the victims through various volunteer activities. The working theory was that the Unsub had deemed the victims to all be hypocrites - claiming to be doing charitable works while sinning on the side.

Garcia had cross-referenced volunteer activities between the various places of worship and had come up with charities that all of them supported throughout the city. From there she'd catalogued registered volunteers across all of them, against activities each of the victims attended, however hadn't been able to narrow it down enough.

So, here you were manning the precinct late at night with Aaron, Derek, and Emily. The team was taking it in shifts to see if any missing persons calls came in, with victims fitting into either of the final two remaining sins - Wrath and Sloth. Unfortunately, there were simply far too many options for you to be able to determine who might become the unwitting victim in this Unsub's crusade.

It was calm and quiet, only the whirring of the fan and ambient sounds of the printer filling the silence. The four of you had already eaten and were all nursing hot cups of coffee in order to stay awake in the otherwise empty station. Public statements had been made and hotlines set up in case anyone could provide even a hint as to who the Unsub might be.

Emily was slouched over at the table, her arms cradling her head as another yawn escaped her. Bleary eyed, she looks at you and you weren't much better off, only barely keeping your eyes open, tilting back in your own chair in order to simulate the feeling of tipping over; effectively scaring yourself into staying awake. Derek was seated in front of the laptop, with Garcia on video. The two of them had been playing some game, however it appeared that she'd tired of it, being nearly two hours of a time difference ahead of the rest of you. So now, Derek was just watching her snooze, head bent down to her desk.

You look at Aaron, reading the notes Reid had left behind in order to try and make some sense of everything - uncover something that had slipped through the cracks. His brow is furrowed, head bent in concentration. He'd shed the jacket a while ago and despite the time of year, the Texan climate had forced him to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing delicious swathes of forearm for your perusal. His hands - so large compared to your own, the veins prominent as he flips a page, muscle tensing and flexing as he does. You have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. It was the sleep deprivation. It was getting to you. Yeah, that's it. Not your big, strong boyfriend looking all serious and focused and handsome as he tries to hunt down a serial killer. Nope. Not at all…

You stand up suddenly as your chair tips forward, all four legs finally hitting the ground with a soft crash, cushioned by the carpeted flooring. Loud enough, however, to get Aaron's attention, as he turns to look up at you, the Are you alright? plain to read in his eyes.

"Need fresh air. Gonna go take a walk around the block or something," you explain, shaking your head of the cobwebs that had formed over the course of the past two hours, as the night had slipped into what could better be classified as early morning.

Aaron sets the papers down and turns to Morgan, indicating that he was going to join you. If you thought he was letting you go out alone, at this hour, with a killer on the loose, you were certifiable.

He watches as you slip on your blazer but he doesn't bother with his own. It would be quick and it wasn't too cold anymore. He follows you through the precinct and out the front doors, down the steps, matching your shorter pace easily - he's used to it by now.

"You sure you're alright?" he asks, once the two of you have reached the street. You merely hum tiredly and nod, so he grabs your hand in his, and walks in step with you, turning the corner past the precinct.

It is a little colder outside than it was inside, but his larger hand encompasses yours entirely, making you feel like a child swathed in his warm embrace. The cool air filters through your nostrils, reinvigorating your mind, giving it the jumpstart needed to function once more.

The two of you don't talk as you walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, him walking on the outside as he always does. Only the streetlamps are on, little pockets of light between stretches of darkness. Your mind is at peace. You aren't thinking about this case or your other one. You aren't thinking about any responsibilities and obligations. No worries. Just silent. It's so rare for your mind to be quiet that you relish in it. Allow yourself to bathe in the soundless symphony occupying the chasm in your brain.

As you approach the final turn that will lead you back to the entrance of the station, you find yourself watching Aaron again. He'd been so patient with the entire case with Interpol, despite it taking a toll on him. He'd been pulling double duty - doing all the things he does while also subbing in for everything you're unable to do at home. Him and Jack had sent you a cooking video of the two of them last time you'd been away, as Jack bossed Aaron around in the kitchen and helped him make your chocolate chip cookies for the bake sale at school. You'd sent Aaron detailed instructions, as he'd have to be the one to help Jack brown the butter and ensure he didn't burn himself. You knew he must have been frustrated with the extremely particular list of ingredients you'd sent him, down to the brand of salt flakes (the pièce de résistance of the entire experience)  that got sprinkled on top. Yet, he'd tackled it all with aplomb, not complaining to you even once. Jack had confided in you afterwards that Aaron had had to go to three different stores because the salt flakes were a rare item and not every branch of the nicer grocery store carried them. He'd done it though, and Jack had told you they'd turned out exactly like yours. Even Emily had texted you to validate this, asking if you'd come back without telling her when Aaron had brought a batch in for the team the following day.

Aaron feels a tug on his hand right before the turn. You'd stopped and his hand was still holding yours, forcing him to stop as well. You're stood in the shadows, right between two patches of light, your face immersed in darkness, and before he can say anything, he's lightly pushed against the brick wall exterior of the police station building. He lands with a soft oomph. You lean up against him, pressing yourself along the length of him and going up on your toes - utilizing the entirety of your ballet training - your lips meeting his in a heated kiss. He groans into your mouth, hands wrapping around your hips on instinct alone, tongue tracing your bottom lip before gently nipping at it, taking advantage of your resulting gasp to make his way into your mouth, licking every part of you available to him. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and turns to hold you against the wall instead, pressing into the inviting warm juncture of your thighs.

"What brought this on?" he hums, moving from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

You shiver at his efforts, a flip in your stomach as you feel the edge of his teeth, followed by the soft bite at the bend of your neck. Unable to answer him, lost in the feeling of his lips and teeth against your skin, your hands mussing through his hair, softly pulling and drawing vibrated groans from him.

At the absence of an answer, he pauses, looking up until he has your full attention, meeting your darkened eyes contrasting against your bashful expression. Your breath hitches when his eyes meet yours. "I love you," you muster with some concentration, soft and blissful, pulling his face back down to meet your sweetly puckered lips once more, drawing him into the cacophonous sea of feeling along with you.

By the time the two of you make it back to the conference room that Derek and Emily were sat in, Emily has stood up, leaning flat against the back wall. Derek has moved as well, taking residence in your old chair, leaning backwards much the same way you had.

"What about you guys?" he asks as you and Aaron enter.

You avoid Emily's knowing look. "What about us?"

"This whole thing - case - heaven and hell. You believe in it?"

"I went the agnostic route," Emily adds, stretching and arching her back like a cat. "If it exists, great. If not, no skin off my back."

Derek looks at the two of you expectantly.

Aaron nods quickly, returning to his old seat, feeling a lot lighter than before. He'd grown up Catholic - heaven and hell were ever-present concepts in his home.

You shrug, grabbing your lukewarm cup of coffee and dropping onto the couch. Your family had been more religious for the sake of appearances and connections rather than any true faith-inspired feelings.

Derek chuckles lightly. "Okay, so if they do exist," he says, turning back to Emily who had sunk down to the floor, seated with her legs stretched out in front of her. "Where you think you're headed?"

"Let me guess, you think you're going to heaven," Emily taunts, a mocking grin on her face.

"I do good, I am good," Derek replies assuredly. "Everything else is up to God. Right, Hotch?"

Aaron breathes out half a laugh along with a raise of his brows, which was about as much agreement Derek could hope for there.

"What about you Princess?"

You look at him, slight roll of your eyes to the ceiling. "Pretty sure patricide rules me out for a ticket to heaven," you respond, your words coated with sardonic dismissal.

Heaven. Hell. What did it even matter when you're dead?

It was a good thing that you hadn't looked at Aaron at that, because if you had, you would've noticed an entirely odd expression on his face at your words - he decides to pin his thoughts for a conversation at a later time. Once the case was wrapped up.

*------------*

"Anything you know could help us identify your husband's killer. Were you able to get a good look at him?"

JJ and Derek are running the interrogation on the latest victim's wife while the rest of the team watches from the other room. The body had been found at the edges of yet another church's grounds, marking it as the sixth victim. However, this time, a witness had emerged. The Unsub had taken Dylan Rogers from his front yard at gunpoint and Ashley Rogers, his wife, had seen it all happen from the living room before calling it in to the precinct.

"She seems tense - her shoulders have been hunched this entire time. Her facial expressions have varied from somber to haunted almost." Reid shifts closer as he profiles Mrs. Rogers, studying her body language.

"Morgan said it seemed like he might have hit her. He saw some bruising when she went to the house to pick her up," Prentiss adds, her voice grave.

Aaron acknowledges both Reid and Prentiss with a nod, his eyes fixed on the interaction taking place in the other room.

"Would fit into the umbrella of Wrath." Rossi mused from beside Aaron. All of you continue to watch while JJ brings in a sketch artist to help Mrs. Rogers construct a likeness of the Unsub.

"It must be killing her - if it's true. Having to help find his killer. Imagine the number of times she must've dreamt of hurting him in the same way he hurt her." All of you turn from Emily back to Mrs. Rogers, thinking on her statement.

"She could've left," Reid reasoned distractedly, his expression casually appraising Mrs. Rogers still for any signs that she might be concealing anything.

You find yourself bristling at that, and you've spoken out before you could stop yourself. "You know, it's funny how whenever we see cases like this. Cases where a man continuously beat up his partner, that's the question on everyone's lips. Why didn't she leave? Why did she stay?"

Reid turns to you, his mouth open and ready to contradict you or apologize, you're unsure, but you continue. "We never ask, why didn't he stop?"

Emily snorts from beside you, her lips pressed tightly together as you both watch Mrs. Rogers working with the sketch artist. She turns to Spencer after a look at you. "Because we accept men as monsters. That is their natural state. Those of them that didn't give in to it - we exalt them. We call them good men. Better men. Because they didn't beat us and hurt us and watch us bleed."

There's a tense silence but this is a sentiment that none of them are unfamiliar with. Reid should've known better.

You see Spencer shift uncomfortably, obviously apologetic for his earlier statement. You shake your head slightly and offer him a small smile, reassuring him that he's alright. This kind of stuff, just hits closer to home for some of you.

Your eyes meet Aaron's and he's looking at you with the question in his eyes that you'd expected as soon as you'd opened your mouth. You shake your head at him too, before turning your gaze back to the front.

Aaron watches you for a beat more, his eyes trained to the side of your face, your unwavering eyes set upon Ashley Rogers and your words swimming in his mind. His eyes had asked the question that he already knew the answer to unfortunately. Yet another reason for him to despise Matthew van Doren's entire existence.

"You know, there was a time I thought he was the love of my life." You all can hear Mrs. Rogers talking to JJ as the sketch artist wraps up. "We had that love - that wake up Sunday morning with pancakes and lose yourself in each other under white sheets kind of love. I don't know when it all went wrong."

*------------*

With the aid of Mrs. Rogers' description, Garcia was able to run a digitally enhanced version of the sketch against all known volunteers who had been at most of the events attended by each of the victims in the weeks prior to their deaths. After that, apprehending the Unsub was just a matter of tying together the identified man to each of the victims directly.

The team was able to prevent the final murder, and while that was of little solace to everyone, there was a tiny part of you that felt happy for Ashley Rogers in all of it. Sometimes the exit route we need arrives in the most unexpected of manners, and it is on us to recognize it and seize it for ourselves. You really hoped that Ashley would claim a new and better destiny for herself.

Since it was late, Aaron was unable to get the jet to fly back the same night, so the team was huddled into a corner of the hotel lounge with drinks in hand. While you're thrilled that you were able to prevent the final victim from being taken, this wasn't the best case the team had worked. You can see it in everyone's eyes, the way they hold their drinks, the hushed whispers contemplating if there was something that would've pointed to him sooner.

You feel bad that you aren't even really thinking about this case anymore. Your mind is preoccupied by the contents of the file you've left upstairs in the hotel room. You nod along to Emily and Derek's conversation, glass of wine held languidly in hand while you mentally collate the work you'd done so far. You know you're contributing nothing to the current conversation, and mercifully both of them have left you to your thoughts. Knowing there's not much chance of you being able to distract yourself tonight, you stand and bid good night to them before walking over to Aaron and Rossi, seated over a chessboard with Reid. They were playing two against one and Reid was still the favored choice to win.

"I'm going to head upstairs." You lean in and whisper softly to Aaron so as to not disrupt the game.

He turns his head to look up, brow furrowed ever so much. It wasn't like you to turn in early when there was a chance to socialize with the team. "I can come with." He grabs his drink as though to finish it, but you stop him with a hand to his shoulder.

"It's alright. Stay." You brush a kiss against his temple before nodding good night to the rest of them, intent on making some progress once you reached the room.

By the time Aaron gets upstairs, it is much later. Reid had won but Rossi had insisted on a rematch. Rossi just wanted to see Reid beat just once, however Aaron was wise to not bring attention to the fact that you've never played him. He knows that Reid has asked you, but you've made up excuses to not play. He'd always wondered about that, and having seen the chessboard in the New York apartment had made him realize that there was actually a good chance that you could beat Reid if you wanted to. Reid was a genius. That fact couldn't be denied. He knew everything about everything. You were different from that. Reid was driven by his pure drive for knowledge - that desire to understand the world around him better. You learned with more purpose, intention - with the need to add knowledge and skills to your toolkit, ready to whip out and be unleashed upon your opponents.

He enters the room just to see you exiting the bathroom, a robe wrapped around your body. He can't help but sigh internally at the sight. His soft, fluffy, perfect little personal teddy bear. He couldn't wait to just crawl into bed, already fearing that you'd be on another flight out the following day.

You acknowledge his presence with a smile, while toweling your hair dry.

"Who won?" There's a crooked smile on your face as you watch him take off his jacket and tie. As if you didn't already know who would win.

"Reid. Rossi wants another rematch on the plane." He shakes his head, walking further into the room. Closer to you.

You laugh softly as Aaron reaches you, looking exhausted from the long week and yet, he seems alright. All in all, this case hadn't been absolutely terrible. "Hasn't he learned his lesson by now?"

"He's a glutton for punishment." He steps forward, grabbing the towel from you and prompting you to turn around as he takes over drying your hair with soft tussles, allowing the cloth to absorb water all the way from root to end.

You hum at his actions, letting yourself to be lulled into the peaceful, floaty state that you always enter whenever he plays with your hair. It just felt too good.

"You should just give in and play him sometime." He knows he's pulling at that little thread there, curious as to how you'll react at him having deduced something you hadn't told him upfront.

You merely chuckle softly, seemingly unsurprised that he'd worked that out for himself. His profiling skills no longer surprise you much, especially when it comes to yourself. He could read you like none other. "We wouldn't want Spencer to cry, now would we?"

Aaron bites his lip, preventing a smile threatening to sneak out at that. It was nice knowing he'd been right about that. He'd have to make you play him at least. He needed to see how good you were for himself.

You turn around, halting his actions. You'd gotten a call from Clyde when you'd gotten upstairs and you were already set to fly out tomorrow on a red eye. You'd booked the ticket, making the necessary upgrades on your own dime.

"Tomorrow?" he guessed, noting the expression on your face when you looked up at him, drawing yourself up on your toes and wrapping your arms  around his neck, the towel slipping from his hands and onto the floor between your feet.

You nod with a sigh, before coaxing him down, and he's quick to meet your lips with his own, knowing the two of now only have tonight. Tomorrow would be spent on the plane and then you'd have to fly out before he'd get even another hour alone with you. His hands instinctively find your waist, drawing you in flush against him. He deepens the kiss when one of your hands moves from his neck to cup his cheeks, thumb brushing over the peaking stubble around his jaw. You hate leaving like this. You can't wait for it to be over. For there to be no more goodbyes layering his touch and yours.

Aaron hugs you closer, wrapping his arms around you fully, the plush robe giving him far more to grab on to. Your lips against his, moving softly, insistently. You break away, struggling to be on your toes for much longer, so he moves, pushing you up onto the desk and coming to stand between your legs as your lips find their place once more against his, this time hands working at the buttons to his shirt as well.

"Wanted to talk to you about something." He breaks away, allowing you to pepper kisses down his jaw and the column of his neck. If the two of you only had today, he didn't want to risk forgetting and having the issue go stale before bringing it up again. He can feel your mouth, sucking, teeth lightly grazing the skin at his collarbone, undoubtedly leaving marks for him to admire afterwards when you were gone. At your hum, he continues relying on your ability to multitask. "Did you mean it, when you said you aren't going to heaven?"

You pause, looking up at him curiously and being reminded of the question Derek had asked. You hadn't realized it had affected Aaron, and yet thinking back on it, of course it had. Your answer had been entirely flippant. He was so serious when it came to things like this. "Yes. I did." Your voice is measured as you answer him, eyeing him carefully to watch his reaction. Even still, his hands have managed past the tie on your robe and his hands are caressing the bare skin of your sides, drawing a soft sigh from your mouth at the sensation. "By any definition of heaven and God and the Bible, murder isn't exactly condoned."

Had this been a few months ago, Aaron knew that this would have been an entirely different conversation. He could appreciate how entirely blunt you're able to be about how you've framed this for yourself. He might not agree with it, but he can appreciate the honesty. "Bible also says an eye for an eye." He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he wasn't about to let this go. Not when it came to the matter of your immortal soul. This mattered to him.

A gasp escapes you as his hands travel up your sides more deliberately, causing shivers against your sensitive skin at the feel of his roughly calloused fingers skimming, exploring, claiming. That's what his touch always felt like. A claim.

You try to focus as you think of a response, hands resuming unbuttoning his shirt and undoing the buckle to his belt. You can see he's already hard and as your fingers ghost over the bulge, he exhales sharply, eyes focused on your hands.

Realizing he wasn't getting an answer from you immediately, he helps you out by undoing the button and lowering the zipper on his pants, taking them off as you watch. You're a little confused by the conversation taking place, but you also knew this going into a relationship with Aaron. Like it or not, he was religious. Your family simply hadn't been much. It wasn't the same religious orthodoxy that Aaron had grown up with, at the very least. He wasn't by any means stringent about it, but some beliefs were innate. Good people go to heaven. Bad people go to hell. As far as he was concerned, you were a good person.

"Heaven and hell - I didn't grow up with that. But that whole eye for an eye thing, I don't think that really applies when it comes to taking a life." You help him slip the shirt off of his shoulders as you speak, the material slipping and falling to the ground as well. Aaron actually undoes the tie to your robe this time, pushing the material off of you almost roughly, eager to expose skin that he couldn't wait to taste. His hands move up to cup your breasts, kneading the flesh - the air in the room and his attentions causing your nipples to pucker, teasing him. He's unable to resist bending down and taking one into his mouth, gently sucking as his fingers tweak the other into submission as well, drawing a keening sound from deep within you, distracting you from your train of thought as you're drenched in the warmth of his touch.

You're entirely bare before him as his mouth moves to the other nipple, hands traveling down, grazing over your stomach and down your thighs, causing them to tremble. He pushes your legs apart, letting go of the nipple, his mouth returning to yours with a renewed fervor. His fingers pick up the evidence of your arousal around them, and he caresses your folds, before entering you with two fingers, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing over it as his fingers scissor inside you, locating the spot that has you arching your back, moans escaping you into his mouth.

Aaron releases your mouth so that he can watch you. Your hands scramble for purchase, bunching into the robe beneath you that soaks up your juices as he continues to work you up. Higher and higher. Your breath panting, breasts thrust up as you can feel the orgasm threatening to overtake your body. It only takes another circular motion of his thumb and the ask to Let go by him, for you to go crashing under the waves, your walls pulsing around his fingers. He watches you fall apart, your arms going up to hug against your breasts as you arch and shake and moan for him, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as he continues his machinations against your sensitive bud, intent on drawing it out. He loves to just watch you like this. Begging him to keep going, your breathy voice urging him on, your gorgeous face, mouth falling open - all for him. His beautiful little princess, entirely at his mercy.

He kisses you again as you come down, your earlier conversation entirely wiped from your mind. But not his. Never his. Aaron could focus and keep track of things in amazing order. He hated that you thought you weren't destined for heaven. It shouldn't matter - such an abstract concept and who even knew, really. But in the off chance it did, he didn't want you to think you'd be excluded. You couldn't be.

Your jelly arms and legs wrap around him and he's already worked down his boxers, revealing his thick, hard cock, eager to be buried inside you. He gathers you up in his arms, pulling you to the edge of the desk, before lifting you up and moving the two of you to the bed, managing to drop you onto it sideways, before quickly climbing on top.

You move your hands to card through his hair, watching him, his lovely brown eyes looking down at you, causing a flurry of emotion in your stomach. He leans down and slots his lips against yours once more, allowing you to get lost in the feel of him. You release him with a gasp, finding it difficult to take in air, and he allows you to breathe as he moves and presses a kiss to your shoulder, entering you in one quick thrust. "Genesis 9:5 says, for your lifeblood, I will surely demand an accounting."

What? You couldn't believe him. He was quoting the fucking Bible while buried in you to the hilt.

"Aaron - "

You're cut off as he moves out, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit, distractingly. Perfectly. Fuck.

He enters you again, harshly, his cock finding that spot inside you as he does. His voice deep and guttural, a groan falling from his mouth as he invades you fully once more. "From each man, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man."

He was still doing it. How could he even remember to quote the Bible right then?! You couldn't even remember your own name.

You don't have the words as Aaron continues, pumping into you, his hand finding your clit to help you reach your peak faster. Neither one of you would last long. You're already a trembling, shuddering mess beneath him, back arched up, feet planted against the mattress for support, your hands traveling and touching any skin of his they could reach.

You can feel his breath hot against your ear, the weight of him on top of you as he ruts his hips against yours, and you can tell he's close. So very close. His hips stutter as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling softly, just enough. "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed." He was intent on fucking the verse into you. You release a broken cry at the feel of him. At his words. The passionate, gravely quality of his voice. He finishes with a loud groan, spilling into you, his ministrations against your clit paying off, propelling you towards the precipice as well. Your walls squeeze his cock, pulsing, clenching at the feel of his release inside you. He groans again, dropping on top of you, his hand going down and wrapping your thigh around him, pushing himself further into you still.

He lays on you for a moment longer, the only sound in the room being your breath and thudding hearts, beating in sync.

You're entirely drowned in ecstasy, even as you try to grasp onto the threads of the conversation the two of you had been having. You run your fingers through his soft hair, brushing back the sweat from his forehead, not minding the weight of him on you. He was crushing you entirely and you wouldn't exchange that for anything. No death could be better. Sweeter.

He rolls off of you after a few more moments, dropping next to you on his back, his legs dangling off the side of the bed.

You breathe deeply, before flipping over to lay on your back. You can feel the evidence of both of your releases inside you, but you can't be too bothered to care right then. Your hazy mind has managed to remember the conversation, and you turn your head, tucking your arms underneath to support it as you watch Aaron. He's laid on his back, one arm under his head, eyes closed and chest rising and falling, slowly settling into a steady state.

"If I wasn't going to hell for the patricide already, I'm definitely going to hell now for finding that far too hot." Your voice comes out low and whiny, a near whisper being all you could manage.

Aaron releases a breath of a laugh before he turns to settle on his side, drawing his legs up, moving closer so he's right beside you. So you can feel his skin against yours.

You reach out, your hand cupping his face and he leans in all too willingly, kissing you softly, completely. As he pulls back, you can feel his eyes examining you - searching. Trying to figure out what exactly it is that had you so thoroughly convinced that you didn't belong in heaven. Because he knows you and while at the time killing your father had been awful, he knew that you believed it had been right. Otherwise you wouldn't have done it.

"Can we accept the premise that killing your father isn't a dealbreaker?" he asks cautiously, his hand reaches out, settling into the curve of your waist, fingers curling into the skin. "What is it really?"

You blink, moving into his embrace, hands fidgeting slightly. You're nervous and you're sure he can tell. However, you know you need to tell him. Tell someone. If anyone should know, it's him. You lick your lips and sigh, looking up into his darkened eyes. "You've met my father. If you had to profile him, how would you do it?" Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure.

Your question is met by some apprehension. Aaron isn't certain, however he hesitantly answers you. "Control freak. Narcissist with a God complex."

You nod at his blunt assessment. "Did you ever wonder why my father - why he let me get away with so much?"

He hadn't.

"I broke off an exceptionally advantageous engagement. He did nothing. I cashed out my trust fund and ran away - slutting it up - " He flinches. " - on the cover of every trashy editorial. Crickets. I joined the FBI and he tried to take me out for dinner. Does he seem like the kind of man that tolerates that kind of insubordination?"

Aaron realizes that he should've thought about these questions. He should've thought to protect you from this back then. It was a miss. Especially after finding out what he had about Julian's death. And yet, there had never been anything in your father's interactions with you to suggest that he would do anything to truly harm you. Despite your fear of him.

"Do you remember what you wrote - in my recommendation letter to McKinney?" you murmured, your face right against his. If he moved a millimeter closer you'd be able to feel your nose against his.

Aaron watches you, his brow furrowing, wondering where exactly this was headed. He nods. He remembers. Your skin under his hands is starting to develop goosebumps. Without a word, he grabs you, shifting and maneuvering so that the two of you are laid together, heads at the headboard finally. He pulls at the blankets, draping them over you both and draws you back against him.

You place a quick kiss to his chest in thanks, fingers brushing over the scars that have persisted. Over time, he's become a lot more comfortable having his shirt off around you. It's still not something he will do in public, but around you, he feels comfortable enough. After all, you'd seen them back when they had been much worse.

He nods at you to continue. He has a need to know now. He has to know.

"The night that Matthew proposed to me, Julian and I got into a huge fight," you confess, legs tangling with his as your fingers trace the mapping of lines down his chest and stomach. "He revealed to me that my father - that the proposal was orchestrated. That it was part of some deal between our fathers. That - ." Your voice breaks and Aaron is quick to run his hands soothingly down your back, whispering soft encouragement in your ears, his lips following your hairline. You sniffle and continue on. "He told me that our father gave me away. Without asking. Without talking to me about it. He sold me."

It's Aaron who is lost for words this time. Out of all things, this - this he could not possibly have prepared for. All things considered, you're holding up remarkably, while his mind reels, putting everything he knows about Matthew into context with this new piece of information. He's struck by a tornado of anger towards your father. How dare that man - that awful, cruel man, treat you like property? To be traded and sold at his whims as if you weren't a fully fledged human being of your own.

You find yourself rubbing your hands up and down Aaron's arms, knowing that he must be processing everything all at once. You've had nearly a decade to deal with it and it still feels overwhelming at times.

"I didn't want to believe it, but it made sense."

Aaron opens his mouth to speak - to say something helpful but no words come. You shake your head, reassuring him that it was alright. He needn't say anything.

"So, I woke him up. We talked. I told him I wasn't about to waste my life - being the perfect daughter and the perfect wife. I couldn't."

He nods. He expected nothing less. You weren't some trophy wife.

"Matthew didn't want me to work after we got married. But I wanted something to work towards. Something that would be mine.  It wasn't fair that just because Dominic was the eldest son - that he would get it all. Everything. The entire empire. It was the one thing Matthew could never deny me. He wouldn't have dared."

Aaron's eyes widen as the realization begins to sink in. He takes in your gaze - blazing with renewed fire and fury at the situation you'd been in. The fervor within to escape, be your own person within the confines of the life you were in.

"My father - he fought me on it. Because the thing is, sons inherit the earth. Sons and not daughters." You take a deep breath, watching Aaron who appears to have followed along marvelously, because you can tell that he knows exactly what you're trying to say now.

"I showed him, however -- " You nod your head shakily "-- how I had built connections with all the right people. How I was smarter, would work harder, be better than anyone else he could possibly hope for to fill his shoes."

"You'd take over." His voice is low and the words feel reluctant on his tongue. Resigned despite the truth of them.

You nod. There it was - it was finally out there. Your worst secret that no one else had ever known. This secret had gone to the grave with your father. You hadn't even told John, knowing how disappointed he would've been in you - especially so soon after Julian's passing.

Aaron looks at you, taking in the guilt behind your eyes, the fear at revealing this to him. He knows too, that you're right. That if you had applied yourself to that, even half as well as you did to your job, you would've done it brutally well.

"That's why you think you aren't going to heaven," he concludes, his hands still rubbing up and down your back. He can feel your heart beating rapidly against his chest. It wasn't killing your father. It was this. "Sweetheart, you didn't do it, though. You didn't."

"I would've," you argue. "If Uncle Robert hadn't told me, even with Julian dead, I would've. I signed up for all of it Aaron. He trained me. He groomed me. Those things that you wrote in your letter to McKinney - all about how I'm adept at reading people. Because I can manipulate anyone into doing anything I want. He taught me how to do that. That I have an aptitude for navigating politically nuanced situations - because he showed me how to get close to the people that really matter. That I am exceptional at tactical planning - because from that day onwards, he planned out my entire life. And I let him. I helped him. Everything I did, anyone I spoke to, was all part of it. Part of his plans. So when I left, he wasn't ready to let go. He wasn't ready to waste his investment in me." The words leave you like a storm - evidence in the case you'd been building against yourself, carved from marble and sitting heavy against your heart for the past decade. You hated how much of him you saw in yourself.

You're breathing really hard and there are tears clinging to your lashes as Aaron continues to hold you, pulling you in even closer, if that were possible. He couldn't even imagine how long you'd carried this with you. Nearly a decade of guilt and for what? For something you hadn't even carried through with.

"You didn't actually do it," he repeats himself, brushing his lips against your forehead, knowing that right then that's what you need. All the reassurance that he doesn't see you any differently. That he never could. Especially not for this.

"Aaron, I would've been someone the Bureau goes after. Someone you'd have gone after. But the difference is, I would've never been caught."

Again, he knows you're right. Aaron isn't even surprised really at your entire confession - it stood to reason that you'd want the keys to the kingdom. From what he knew of you and your siblings, you really would be the person who was most capable, despite the dubious nature of the job. He's not naïve enough to think you couldn't have done it if you wanted to. You would've been exceptional at it. But you didn't. Given the chance today, you wouldn't. For him, that's what mattered.

He brushes the hair out of your face tenderly, sweeping away all the wisps and baby hairs, holding your face in his hands. "You need to forgive yourself, Y/N. You need to realize that there is a difference between signing up for something and actually doing it. What you actually did, that's what matters. Regardless of the circumstances. That's what truly happened."

You're quiet, so he holds you. He can feel the tears trickling down your face, onto his chest as you bury your head into him once more.

It was an upheaval, telling him all of this. It's Aaron - and despite everything awful that you've revealed just then, he's being kind, compassionate, and understanding. You just told him that you'd essentially signed up to do every evil job known to mankind and he was comforting you. Making sure that you wouldn't beat yourself up. That you forgave yourself. He didn't even - it was as if it didn't even matter to him. How could it not, though? How could it not claw at him, being tangled up with someone he knows to be entrenched in evil?

"You are a good person, Y/N. A wonderful person. This - this one thing doesn't define you. Being good is a series of decisions and choices in that direction. One thing doesn't derail it entirely. That's what amends are for. What forgiveness is for. To show us that no matter what, we always have a chance." Aaron could only hope that you saw yourself the way he saw you. As someone who tried to be good. As someone who was good, through trying alone.

You want to believe him. You do. It sounds peaceful. But how do you know if you've made enough amends? How do you know if you've done enough?

He knows you're struggling to believe him. He wants to convince you, paint it into your skin, emblazon it onto your soul in a manner so unmistakable that you'd never question it again. You're a good person. He needs you to believe it. Desperately.

Aaron tilts your face up by your chin, his lips meeting yours intensely. "You are a wonderfully good person, Y/N" His whisper falls against your lips, forcing you to swallow in his words. Breathe them in. Taste them. Let them settle into your stomach.

He places another kiss to the turn of your neck, tongue peaking out to lick at mark he'd left earlier, soothing over it. "You're a hero. You save people." He will make you believe it.

You watch in awe as he shifts, placing another kiss to the swell of your breasts. "You take such good care of me and Jack." He will make you believe that you're the good he sees in life. Through all the horrors he sees day in and day out, he looks to you and he sees goodness and purity, laughter and joy.

You can feel the tears welling up again in your eyes, for an entirely different reason as you watch him. Watch this man, make his way down the length of your body, reminding you that you conquer monsters for a living. Remind you that you took down your father and in turn prevented him from doing more evil. Impress upon you the importance of everything you've accomplished since then - all the people you've saved, all the happiness you've brought, all the people you've loved.

You can't help but press yourself to him. Closer to him. Because his touch is the forgiveness you can never seem to give yourself. His touch is pure. His touch is good. It is divinity itself. Maybe if he touched you enough, it could make up for it all. Letting his essence cover up everything that came before.

Aaron draws up on his haunches, having just kissed your clit, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You taste like what he imagines sunshine might taste like. He moves you up with him, into his lap and waits until you've met his mouth of your own volition, before pulling you down onto his cock, seating you fully against him.

You can taste yourself on his lips. You can feel him inside you so entirely, consumingly, fully. He clutches onto you, the drag of him inside you so powerful and potent, the bubbling euphoria encasing you. Your arms curl around his shoulders, fingers in his hair, as his wrap around your hips, helping you ride his cock exquisitely. Vastly, painstakingly slow.

Aaron watches you in his lap, taking him in - his. Mine. Mine. Mine. A chant on repeat in his brain as your wet, velvety walls grip him like a vice. Your beautiful pink lips parted ever so slightly, eyes half lidded. In his lap, against his body, taking his cock. This - this was goodness. You were the source of all pleasure, delight, and happiness that he feels. If that is not goodness, then what is? If the God he calls God didn't recognize you as such, then what kind of God was he? Because he would gladly worship at your altar instead, if need be.

His hands grip you excruciatingly tight against him, unwilling to leave even the semblance of room between the two of you. It was as though he began where you ended and you ended where he began. "I don't care if you believe you're going to heaven or not," he declares, watching you take him. "I'm going to believe it enough for the both of us."

Before you can say anything in response, he draws your attention downwards, forcing you to watch. Watch as he exits you, wet and shiny, drenched in your arousal. Watch as he brings you back down, entering you immeasurably slowly and causing you to clench and flutter around him. His.

You look back up, meeting his warm brown eyes, shining with love and compassion and the utmost respect. Everything that made you fall in love with this man. You watch as he pushes into you, moves you just so - so as to perfectly hit that spot inside you. You tilt your head back on a moan, your body shuddering and your back arching once more, pushing you closer and closer against him. When you return to face him, he looks at you. His eyes fixed on you. That look on his face, was nothing short of reverent.  

You come achingly fast, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you shudder around him, taking in his release. He continues through it, pushing his cum back into you in the process, keeping it there, mingling with both of your earlier release.

You're entirely weak as you sit in the cradle of his arms, balancing on his thighs. Your mind is far away and present at once. Present only in him - his touch, his feel, his lips, his words - surrounding you thoroughly.

You are both unhurried in your movements as you clean up together, no need or desire to speak further, content in the silence of one another.

Aaron cleans up the bed, making sure there are fresh sheets, as he watches your tired body put on the small slip you'd left out earlier. Your hair was wet again and he grabs a fresh towel, drying it once more as you lean against him, unable to stand on your own for much longer, your body still sore. He can see the marks he'd left behind blooming and he takes extra care as he urges you towards the freshly made bed. You slip in to your side as he lifts the duvet, quickly climbing in beside you and tucking the two of you into the covers - swaddling your body against his own. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, murmuring his love against them, the echo of his words reverberating against them. You fall asleep first, entirely spent, physically and emotionally. With any luck you'll enter a deep, dreamless sleep. He can hear your steady and even breaths paralleled with the slow rise and fall of your chest, persuading him to join you in slumber.

Even if you didn't go to heaven - if for some God forsaken reason you were denied entrance - he'd willingly, gladly, go to hell with you.

With that final thought, he gives in to the call of your warmth and the sound of your breaths, allowing himself to be drawn into sleep beside you.

[sodone-withlife]

enough

yay this is my first fic in over a month, and as per usual, there's not much proofreading. all mistakes are my own. also, this isn't as whump-y as my past works and includes a number of my headcanons

@yourlocalheartbreaker here's over 2k words of a rather OOC Criminal Minds fanfic based on your post :) I've intentionally made the ending a bit ambiguous, so let your imagination run wild. the case is also based on what happened in Boston.

here’s a post that clarifies some ambiguities

warnings: alcohol, mentioned character death, mentioned canon typical violence. also, I love all of the characters, but for the purposes of this story, this will come across as everyone (except Hotch, Morgan, and Strauss) slander. don't like it, don't read it.

word count: 2.2k words

“I really am sorry I couldn’t do more,” Strauss said quietly.

Hotch shook his head, staring into his whiskey. “You’ve already done so much,” he said equally quietly. He hesitated, wondering if he should give voice to the thought that had been nagging at him since the last in a week-long series of grueling questioning and testimony.

Fuck it, he thought, dowing the last of his whiskey.

“I think we both knew it was coming,” he said, looking at his now-former boss unflinchingly. To her credit, Strauss didn’t try to hide that she shared his thoughts as they shared a knowing look. “Too many minor bureaucratic infractions, a few major fiascos,” he continued, shaking his head ruefully, “it was only a matter of when.”

Strauss remained silent, swirling the last of her own drink in her glass. It was a longstanding tradition between the two of them to go out for drinks after especially taxing cases and bureaucratic nightmares, one that started weeks after Gideon stepped down and went on leave.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Why did you lie? You and I know very well you had nothing to do with it.” She turned to face Hotch fully, a hint of confusion appearing in her expression. “Why take the fall?”

The answer easily came to Hotch, but it didn’t erase the bitterness with which the words came out. “The leader is replaceable, but the team isn’t.” He looked pained, avoiding her incredulous stare. “Same reason as always.”

He could understand her exasperation; it wasn’t the first time he had discussed the issues within the team with her. Over the years, she tried again and again to get him out, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did. She eventually accepted his refusal to leave, but it didn’t stop her from dropping hints of disapproval here and there—and they both knew some secret part of him agreed with her disparaging comments, much as he tried to ignore it.

The team dynamics had never truly recovered from Boston and Adrian Bale, and that had carried over to the newer members of the team who joined after the fiasco. His standoffish, laconic nature certainly didn’t help. Eventually, even Gideon was ignoring the cracks in the foundation of the team,

Out of all of his coworkers, only Strauss and Morgan remembered (and still sometimes saw) the less-guarded agent with surprising idealism that he had been before everything went to shit.

Now, after years of leadership under his belt, he didn’t know how to be anyone else but the sharp, authoritative unit chief.

Especially after Haley.

(As he had stood in front of the freshly dug grave, he swore that his family would never meet SSA Hotchner, Unit Chief, Agent No-Smile Hardass, if he could help it.)

(The moment he stepped through the front door, he would only be Dad.)

(And in front of a select group of people, he would be Aaron, the man who was just barely toeing the line between profiler and unsub in his jaggedly broken, near-unhinged protectiveness.)

And so he received each act of insubordination from the team, no matter the magnitude, with unflappable calmness, even as he stayed late and went to work hours early to deal with the towering stacks of paperwork that joined the already existing piles of budget expansion requests and case consults.

He trusted their judgment, even if that trust didn’t go both ways.

“You’re very respected, you know that?” Strauss suddenly commented. “It’s the only reason you’ve been able to cover for your team for so long.”

That was something Hotch knew very well. Much as he hated it, he often found himself in the midst of political maneuverings that embroiled his higher-ups, aided especially by his upbringing and law school education. In these circles, where everyone knew everyone wore masks to hide unsavory secrets, there was some degree of grudging respect for everyone, no matter their placement on either side of the aisle. Even those who came from money had to have special acumen in order to make it this far in the cutthroat world of DC politics.

Hotch had gained quite the reputation as a prosecutor in DC, and not just because his father had been a well-known attorney with high-profile clients. Coupled with his meteoric rise through the ranks of the bureau, helping out the right people and collecting numerous contacts and favors along the way, it was no wonder that he had managed to keep the team out of the line of fire for so long.

More and more often, however, he was questioning his decisions to reject each opportunity to move up the chain of command, to instead stay with the team as a field agent. Even though he could almost always understand the reasoning behind each act of insubordination—hell, he even encouraged it sometimes—he couldn’t help but want for things to be different, especially with every night he went home too late and every time he pulled out the concealer he had always had near him since childhood to cover up the bruise-like eyebags that found a permanent home on his face.

But in the end, Hotch didn’t even have a choice.

(But a small part of him knew that this was always how he was going to go.)

Really, he understood why they did what they did. Ten years ago, he would have done the same thing himself.

Now, however, he couldn’t afford to put Jack’s safety and wellbeing on the line.

Some might say that Jack was his weak spot, and they wouldn’t be wrong—he would wholeheartedly agree with them.

He couldn't find it in him to feel guilty about putting his family ahead of all else, but what JJ said when he called them into his office after the fiasco had cut deeply.

You of all people should understand, JJ had spat in his face, and every harsh word he was about to say himself, reprimanding them for callous insubordination to the highest degree, died on his lips. He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he just stood there in silent, pained shock, but it didn’t take long for JJ, Prentiss, and Reid to leave his office with an air of vindication, not sparing him another glance.

Hotch had spent the rest of the day fielding call after call, trying to piece together the exact course of events and fending off the sharks smelling blood in the water.

The bloody chunks of flesh of the three agents who died immediately in the blast, the two who didn’t even make it into the operating room, and the one adult hostage who couldn’t far enough away in time.

Now, sitting across from Strauss and staring into his empty glass, he wondered if things would have been different if he had gotten there faster, adding his own input in formulating a negotiation strategy that factored in the variables he only knew to take into account because of his combined years in prosecution and SWAT and because of Boston.

Especially Boston.

(He already considered all of the what-ifs. He knew that short of suddenly gaining time travel or teleportation abilities, he couldn’t have done anything.)

But maybe he foresaw his current situation the moment he saw Strauss’s emailed request for an urgent meeting the morning after he worked late into the night trying to control the fallout.

Just budget meetings with the higher up of higher-ups, he reassured Morgan when they bumped into each other as Hotch and Strauss made their way out of the Academy offices towards the parking garage. He knew Morgan didn’t believe him—he was wearing the suit that he reserved for black tie events and meetings on the Hill, for one—but there was a reluctant acceptance and a hint of knowing in his eyes.

(Of course, Morgan had an idea of what was going on. No one in the country was ignorant of what had happened yesterday afternoon. As he was looking through the news coverage, confused and horrified as to how something like this could have happened, memories of Boston rose to the forefront of his mind, and he knew that this would end in blood.)

(Then Hotch called him in a frenzy, apologizing profusely for bothering him on his weekend off while all but begging for him to look after Jack for the rest of the day. It was an easy decision. Morgan took Jack to the movie theater, helped him with biking, took him out for ice cream, whatever it took to keep Jack happy and occupied while he himself worried over the state of things at the office.)

(It was well past midnight when Hotch finally fell into a restless sleep in bed next to Morgan, who had a standing invitation to stay overnight and was trying to help him loosen up his tensed muscles.)

“I’m coming into the office tomorrow to tie up loose ends,” Hotch suddenly told Strauss. “I’m not going to pull a Gideon. They don’t deserve that.”

He said as much next day as he stood in the bullpen, looking out at the agents he had worked with for years as he made his announcement.

“After careful consideration, I have decided to retire from the BAU,” he ignored the sounds of shock that rippled through the crowd, “and with my retirement, I am cutting all official ties with the Bureau.”

He carefully avoided looking at the team as he continued. “Please respect that I would prefer to not discuss the details of my retirement at this time, but I will say that this recent case had a lot to do with my decision,” he swept a stern gaze around the room, ignoring the pang in his heart and sudden burning in his eyes when he accidentally made eye contact with a devastated-looking Garcia.

Hotch quickly looked away and continued with his goodbyes before he managed to find an out to retreat to his office, where he picked up the last box of his belongings. It’s surprisingly light, he thought distantly as he took in the stripped office for the last time.

Oh, right, Strauss had helped me pack everything else and bring home the law books and framed certificates after we went out for drinks last night.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Strauss stepped inside, shutting the door behind her and closing the blinds to give them some modicum of privacy from the profilers waiting in the bullpen with their barrage of questions.

“This is it, then,” she commented, eyes on the badge and gun that was left on the expansive desk.

Hotch nodded. “I’m sure the suits will be sweeping through my reports and cases soon enough. The team will find out then.” He turned to meet her gaze, an unreadable glint in his eyes, “But I daresay we will be seeing each other quite soon, however.”

They grasped each other’s hand firmly, something unspoken passing between them. There was a beat of stillness, then Hotch let go. He opened the office door and swept past her, past the team, and into the elevator with his phone already next to his ear, his professional mask back as he left this part of his life behind.

Strauss walked out onto the catwalk, looking out into the bullpen at the profilers sitting at their desks, shell-shocked at the man’s sudden (and all-too-final) departure.

Truthfully, Strauss didn’t know what he meant when he hinted that he would be seeing her (and presumably the team) again soon, but she assumed it had to do with the closed meeting he was pulled into the moment he arrived at the office this morning. She may not be trained to notice the details in human behavior, but she could tell there was a peaceful ease to Hotch’s goodbye that shouldn’t have been there, in addition to the strange lack of the bitterness she knew had been there last night when they went out for drinks.

“Erin, what the hell was that about?” Rossi’s voice shook her out of her thoughts. She turned to the approaching agent, game face back on and preparing to finally unleash the full scope of what had happened over a week ago onto the remaining profilers, who had been shielded from the consequences by Hotch’s presence and tireless negotiations alone.

Whatever Rossi was about to say next was suddenly cut off by an outraged “What?” coming from Morgan, who had been all but interrogating Prentiss, JJ, and Reid about the guilt was practically painted all over their expressions. Now, he ran out of the bullpen, chasing after Hotch and ignoring the calls of his name behind him.

Strauss watched all of this calmly; Hotch had asked that one of the team be made unit chief after his departure, but there was no way she was letting that happen on her watch. Especially based on Morgan’s determined chase after the now-former unit chief, she imagined she would be having two open positions to fill.

It was about time those two got their heads out of their asses, she thought, smiling internally.

May you find your peace, Aaron Hotchner.

[flutteringdreams-matw]

Out of Time (9)

First/Last

Read on AO3

Word Count: 4248

Previously: After realizing there's three possible outcomes of a looming battle with Dan, Danny asks Valerie, Dani and Vlad for their help.

Now: The calm before the storm. Aka things are about to hit the fan.

Link to the next chapter will be in the replies once posted. As always - please let me know what you think!

---

"Danny- you in here?" Jazz asked, opening her brother's door tentatively. To her surprise, she saw both Danny and Phantom in the room, both looking sombre and upset. She frowned slightly, looking between the two like a hawk. "Are you okay?"

Danny's eyes briefly flashed green as Phantom disappeared, smiling at his sister. "Yeah," he replied softly. His blue eyes watched her as she crossed her arms determinedly.

"Good, cause we're ready for you." Jazz observed Danny closely as he stood up straighter, a quiet reservation embodying him. She frowned as she examined him again. "You sure you're okay? We can postpone-"

"No," Danny said tiredly. "We really can't." He walked over to his sister, ignoring her suspecting gaze as he gave her a hug. Jazz bristled in surprise, but quickly returned it. "Love you," he murmured into her shoulder.

"I love you too," she replied, pulling away from the hug. She poked his nose affectionately, making the younger teen scramble away with a scowl. "Now come on, you're needed Ghost Boy."

With a devious smirk, Danny transformed and grabbed his sister by her arms. He turned them both intangible and flew up to the Ops Center. He dropped Jazz unceremoniously to the ground as he turned tangible again.

"Ugh! Danny!" Jazz protested, shivering slightly. "Give me warning next time!"

Danny chuckled, floating in the air as he watched Jazz try and recover. "You're the one who said they were ready. Where's that Ghost Getter attitude?" he teased.

Jazz glared half-heartedly at her brother before sighing. "C'mon," she said, gesturing to the crowded Ops Center.

Both Fenton children made their way into the room, weaving through many of Frostbite's subjects as they attempted to reach their parents. Maddie, Jack, Sam and Tucker were crowded around one of the screens. Jack saw them first.

"Kids! There you are!" he boomed, causing Sam and Tucker to jump in surprise. "Vladdy's on the T.V."

Danny exchanged frowns with his sister as they moved the screen. Vlad was sitting at his desk in the Mayor's office, looking stoic and political as the T.V. station ran a banner underneath him labelling it as a mayoral address.

"Citizens of Amity Park," Vlad began. Danny rolled his eyes at the condescending tone his arch-enemy used. "As you've been aware, local hero Danny Phantom has held a large dome of energy around our beloved town for the past four days. After a brief meeting with Phantom this afternoon, we now have true confirmation of what is afoot."

Maddie turned to her son, frowning in disapproval. "You went to Vlad?"

Danny shrugged. "He needed to know what was going on. The last thing we want is him making a story up and it causes people to get hurt." He turned back to the press conference.

"There is a dangerous ghost making its way through the Ghost Zone," Vlad continued. "Dangerous enough to cause many ghosts to take refuge here in our world. Phantom has put up this shield in order to protect our town from harm." Vlad folded his hands together, looking very grim. "However, this ghost has challenged our resident ghost and has thus threatened the safety of this town. Tomorrow, these two will clash somewhere in our world, with Phantom unsure of how much protection he can give us.

"The Fentons and I have created a contingency plan in case Phantom's shield is compromised, however it is very likely that this will rival our run in with the Ghost King last year. Unfortunately, it is too late to evacuate the town. Rest assured that your safety is our number one priority. We are asking you to stay indoors until we determine that it is safe to return to our normal lives. I must implore you all to be careful – the only warning we'll have is if this shield goes down.

"As for Danny Phantom – if you're watching this: Good Luck."

Vlad faded from the screen as Lance Thunder started his analysis on what he just heard. Danny let out a breath as he turned to his parents. "We ready to figure out a plan?"

Jack gave his son a reassuring smile. "You bet kiddo," he told him, leading the way to a large round table. Ethelwulf, Frostbite and Clockwork all sat waiting for them, with many more white yeti ghosts standing behind them. Frostbite grinned readily as he saw Danny approach, while Ethelwulf looked him over searchingly.

Danny ignored them, instead floated above the table and waited for his friends and family to take a seat. Green eyes found the large fold out map of Amity Park with various pieces placed strategically across it. A small frown appeared across his face as he saw the large amount of pieces outside of the shield.

"We still have about 10 hours before Dan attacks," Maddie said, snapping Danny out of his musings. He floated back, giving her his full attention. Maddie pointed to the large group that was furthest away. "Our intel shows that Dan is East of the town gathering his army." She gestured to the rest of the town. "Danny's shield will hold for a bit, but our main priority should be getting the Fenton shield up and running. Once that's up, it should cover the entire town – the only problem is we still can't isolate Dan's ecto-signature from Danny's."

"The good news is between Frostbite and his people, we're able to scan all the ghosts hiding in Amity Park," Jack told the crowd. "This way, the shield will still be able to protect the ghosts and the town from Dan's wrath."

Danny nodded, agreeing with the line of thought so far. "And you'll keep working on the shield?" His parents nodded. His frown deepened as he surveyed the plans now on the table. "We need to keep him out of the city at all costs." Danny moved closer to the table, pointing to a large structure on the map. "Until we get the Fenton shield up, we'll have to be divided." Maddie glanced at her son nervously, but stepped back as he started to take more command at the table. "We'll split up in two teams. Ethelwulf, Frostbite; you both stay here. With Ethelwulf's shield around the Fenton Portal, it's the safest point in all this. If anything goes down, you're the best people to defend it." He traced the outer layer of the map with index finger. "The Red Hunter, Danielle and Plasmius will be at the shield holding back the shadow army. If these things are anything like Vlad's copies, then there's going to be a lot of them."

Maddie and Jack exchanged surprised looks before addressing their son. "Are you sure you can trust Plasmius?" Jack asked him. "Or the Red Hunter for that matter? She did trap you and Danielle a few weeks back."

Danny didn't look up from the map, concentrating hard on his next point when he answered. "We've had truces before," he explained. "It's fine. Besides we'll need all the help we can get."

Frostbite cleared his throat. "My fellow Far Frozen brothers will also protect the town," the yeti ghost told the group in front of them, garnering murmurs of agreement throughout the crowd. "If any of the shadows make it in, we'll be ready Great One."

"Thanks Frostbite," Danny said gratefully, flashing his friend a smile. It quickly disappeared as he continued. "Unfortunately, I think that'll happen sooner rather than later." He turned his gaze to his parents. "No matter what Vlad's said during that press conference, we're going to need people to clear the streets and provide cover if needed."

Maddie stroked her chin in thought. "I think we still have time to reach out to the Ghost Emergency Response team," she said. Seeing the look of confusion on her son's face she elaborated. "We reached out to a few people after the Ghost King attack to help with evacuation efforts in the event we couldn't get to them in time. They'll be able to use some public spaces to get people to safety in a pinch. Plus, this was set up before Vlad was mayor; we don't have to go through him for his approval."

Danny eyed his Mom suspiciously at her tart tone but nodded his consent. "Okay, let's do that," he said. His eyes darted across the map in front of him, before he paused and sighed heavily. "I don't think there's any way I can keep the shield up and fight Dan."

"Especially if you're going to be an idiot and go off alone," Tucker said. Danny scowled at him. "What? We can see your self-sacrificing shtick from a mile away dude."

"Not exactly what I meant," Danny shot back, green eyes running over the map avoiding everyone's gaze. "I'm using my base powers to keep the shield up. If something's attacking it - the best place to keep it up around the town is to be right on it."

"Making you a sitting duck," Ethelwulf finished, yellow eyes scanning the map with quick precision. "Which is what Dan is counting on; he tested your abilities in your last battle. He'll wait until you're distracted before striking."

"Which is where Jazz and I come in," Sam jumped in, moving closer to the table and pointed to various sections of the town. "We can provide cover some extra cover on you from the highest points of the city." She pointed out four large buildings. "If we station ourselves up there, we can hit the ones that close in on Danny's position."

Danny stiffened slightly at the suggestion, eying the pieces outside of the shield again and the other two buildings that Sam had suggested. He let out a breath before looking up at his family and friends. "We'll need more than just you two. Mom, Dad, Jazz and Sam will be on these four buildings," Danny grabbed four mini pieces that indicated their side of the battle and placed them on the map. "Tucker, you'll be at FentonWorks working on the shield and be our eyes while we're out there. Apart from my parents, you're the only one who can work on those calculations." He moved another piece. "I'll be at the top of the shield, keeping it up until the Fenton shield is ready. Then we can regroup here and think about our next phase of attack."

"And if your shield goes down before the Fenton one is ready?" Sam asked sceptically.

Danny floated above the table, looking grim. "Then we fight," he said simply. He floated above the crowd, his face reserved as he surveyed the crowded ops center. "This won't be easy," he told the crowd. "In a different time, he destroyed the entire world. I want to say we'll make it… but there's no guarantee that we'd be back. If we fail – our worlds as we know them are doomed." The half-ghost crossed his arms. "Dan isn't invincible. If we work together, we can bring him down. Who's with me?"

A loud roar of approval echoed through the ops center from the members of the Far Frozen. Danny scanned the crowd and found Clockwork, regarding him curiously with his red eyes. Time seemed to slow as their eyes met, Clockwork searching for an answer from the young ghost. Clockwork gave Danny a brief nod of approval before Danny floated back to the ground toward his friends and family.

Danny waited until the ghosts left the Ops Center before taking a vacant seat and transforming back into Danny Fenton. Tired eyes scanned the table again, looking at the small pieces and the map with reservation. "If this doesn't work…"

"It will," Maddie told him sternly, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine." Danny couldn't tell if she was trying to reassure herself as well.

"If there's anything this year has shown us, it's how to kick ghost butt as a family," Jack added confidently.

"Dad's right," Jazz told him, coming around Danny's other side, giving him a big hug. "Dan may have the power, but we have the numbers and heart. Remember that, okay?" Both Fenton parents joined the hug at their daughter's words.

Danny smiled softly. "I'll remember," he said. His family released the boy from the hug, smiling. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "This will work."

Maddie kissed the top of his head affectionately. "Get some rest sweetheart. We'll see you off in the morning." With that, the three Fentons exited the Ops Center, leaving Danny, Sam and Tucker alone.

Tucker walked over to the table, nudging Sam along the way and sat next to his best friend. "That was kinda weird…right? I mean… in a good way?"

Danny chuckled. "A bit, yeah." Sam finally moved to Danny's other side at the table, watching him intently. "This is the first time my parents are involved in such a big ghost attack and know all the stakes going in. It's made it easier….. but also so much harder."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

Danny shook his head, smiling softly. "It doesn't matter. I'm just glad we're on the same side for once." He pulled out a small pouch from his pocket, putting it onto the table. His logo reflected the light from the Ops Center above him. "Can one of you ask Ethelwulf about these? Vlad gave them to me."

"I'm pretty sure that's a red flag and should be thrown out," Sam said, narrowing her eyes at the pouch.

Danny shrugged. "He said they're Ecto-Enhancers – something to help give my powers an energy boost. While I don't trust Vlad with a ten foot pole, I think he's actually trying to help. I'd ask my parents, but Mom's been acting strange about me interacting with Vlad. I don't think she knows anything, but she definitely suspects."

"Hence Ethelwulf," Tucker finished, watching Danny confirm with a nod. Tucker stared at the pouch as a few ideas raced across his brain. "Apart from Ethelwulf, Plasmius is the only other person who knows about half-ghosts on a molecular level. Maybe these will help us separate the two of you."

"If there's one time for his creepy clone experiments to come in handy, it's now" Danny replied with a grimace.

"Gross," Tucker said. He reached over, grabbing the pouch of Ecto-Enhancers and waved them in the air. "I'll get started on this – hopefully we can get that shield up before morning." Tucker stood, giving Sam an exaggerated look before moving quickly to the stairs. "Sam, make sure this one doesn't do something stupid without me. I am the brains of this operation"

Danny chuckled at the joke. "Don't let it get to your head, techie."

Sam shook her head at their antics. "No promises," she said slyly as Danny made a noise in protest. Sam caught Tucker's equally sly smile as he made his way downstairs, realizing suddenly that he left her alone with Danny on purpose; she nearly groaned in annoyance.

"Jerk," Danny muttered in amusement. He rose slowly, gripping the table to hold himself up. His arms shook as he looked over the plans again, blue eyes darting back to the large amount of pieces on the ground.

Sam frowned worriedly. "You're exhausted," she stated.

Danny nodded. "We really need that shield," he told her wearily. "If these numbers are right then I'm going to be putting all my energy into defending the town."

"What you really need is sleep." Sam replied sharply. Danny ignored her and continued to glance at the figures on the table. "When was the last time you actually rested without those time visions?"

Danny shrugged, turning his face away. "Few days maybe," he replied. He traced the outer layer of the map toward the top of the shield, frowning in thought.

Sam sighed, standing up and put her hand on his shoulder. Danny's body relaxed slightly at her touch but remained focus on the map in front of him. "You need to rest," she said softly. "You've been heading straight for Dan ever since he escaped. Not to mention, you've been flying around and using your powers quite a bit today. Isn't it time to take it easy?" Danny only hummed at the suggestion. Sam sighed again, bracing herself against the table as she looked out in the other direction. A few moments passed, neither one speaking as they stood in the Ops Center. Finally, Sam let out a long breath, steeling her resolve. "About earlier…"

"You were right," Danny told her, cutting Sam off before she had a chance to continue. He glanced at her quickly before his eyes returned to the map. "Before. This isn't just some ghost fight."

Sam frowned, confused at his reserved demeanour. "You told me you weren't afraid anymore," she accused softly.

"I'm not."

Sam turned to him abruptly, violet eyes flashing dangerously. "So why are you holding back now? What changed in a few hours?"

Danny sighed tiredly, his black hair covering his face from her view. When he finally spoke, it was so quiet it made the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand up. "If we make it through this, then we'll talk."

Sam blinked before nudging him hard with her shoulder. "When we make it through this, I'll be waiting. You hear me? When." They stood quietly, Sam's last remark hanging in the air as Danny made no attempt to answer. She nudged him again. "Danny, when you make it back. Not if."

Danny raised his head slowly, smiling as he looked at her. Sam's eyes widened slightly at the changing emotions across his face. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "You're right." He turned away as Sam looked at him, concerned. "I think I'm gonna head downstairs."

Sam frowned; something didn't feel right. "You're not going to sneak off on our own are you?" she asked searchingly.

Danny shook his head and brushed her off. "Nah – you'll miss me too much," he replied lightly. She wasn't convinced.

With a small wave, he took off down the stairs. Sam watched him go, still frowning as she tried to figure out his sudden change of mood.

:-=-:

"A little early for an adventure, isn't it Halfling?"

Danny didn't turn from his position on the Ops Center, opting to look at the stars through the green shield around the town with a small smile. There were still a few hours before dawn and apart from the ghosts throughout the house, everyone was asleep. "Not an adventure if I'm still here."

Ethelwulf chuckled as he walked up beside the seated young ghost. "True, but you are your ghost self on a rooftop, alone, right before we do battle with that monster. Forgive me for thinking you were sneaking off without telling us."

Danny shook his head. "I couldn't sleep," he admitted. "Stargazing helps me clear my head." They looked at the stars in silence, Ethelwulf waiting for Danny to continue. Eventually, Danny sighed, standing up to face the black wolf ghost beside him. "I keep seeing various parts of how today will play out," he said dismally. "Regardless of how much planning we do, it doesn't seem like we're going to win."

Ethelwulf opened his mouth, but a voice beat him to it.

"What have I told you before, Great One?" Frostbite floated toward them, an eyebrow raised questionably at the younger. "About fears and battles?"

"I'm not afraid of Dan," Danny told them confidently. "I'm not facing him on my own so we have more of a chance than I would normally. But…" Danny looked up at the stars again, frowning. "In order to win, we need to know his plan. With these time visions, I think I have some idea of… how he thinks."

Frostbite and Ethelwulf exchanged confused looks. "Isn't that a good thing?" Ethelwulf asked him.

"If I'm right… then it's not a good thing," Danny replied seriously. He rubbed the back of his head. "It means that our plan doesn't account for him exploiting our weaknesses – which he'll definitely do. Dan has nothing to lose, meaning he's more dangerous than ever. He doesn't care."

Ethelwulf let out a soft "Oh," as he realized what the boy was trying to say. He lowered his head close to Danny's face, big yellow eyes looking into worried green. "Danny," he said gently. "Going into battle thinking you'll lose means you've already lost. The things that you need to fight for? That makes you more dangerous too."

Danny smiled sadly. "I want to believe that. More than anything."

Ethelwulf nodded. "Then do." Ethelwulf looked him over, frowning. "Though you're not completely healed from yesterday; are you sure you'll be alright on top of that shield?"

Danny nodded. "I'm good. The faster we get that shield up, the faster I can recover and kick his sorry butt out of existence. How's that going anyway?"

Ethelwulf sighed. "Tucker gave me the Ecto-Enhancers; Plasmius seems to know quite a bit about your ecto-signature Halfling. We were able to identify more of a distinction between the ecto-signature we have of you and his. It seems like the key here is your mid-morph sample – but until you're able to recover, I believe it's unwise for us to take that sample. Though, now that we know what we're looking for, we might be able to manipulate the shield enough for us to put it up. These Ecto-Enhancers should be safe if you wish to use them."

Danny nodded in confirmation. "Good to know – probably best to leave them here for now. Last thing I want is for Dan to get a hold of them." Danny looked away, making Frostbite and Ethelwulf tense slightly. "If anyone can figure out that mid-morph sample, it'll be Tucker. He's been working with my parents for so long and knows my powers pretty well. Will you-"

"Don't worry," Frostbite assured. "We'll make sure your family is safe. No one will get through."

Danny smiled gratefully, looking up at the stars again. "Thank you," he said simply. They were quiet for a few minutes, before Danny closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Clockwork," he called as he opened his eyes and faced his two friends.

Clockwork's spinning clock appeared promptly behind Frostbite, the latter shuffling aside for the Time Master to materialize. Once appeared, Clockwork brought his staff toward the ground, a grim smile directed at Danny.

"I think I finally understand," Danny said quietly. "When you told me that acting on the knowledge of time was a burden."

Clockwork inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I believe so," he said simply. "I'd ask you what now, but judging from that response, I can only guess."

Danny sighed again. "I need you all to promise me something," the half-ghost started, getting the attention of all three spectres on the roof. "If I….. If I stop responding on coms…..or if I go down…please don't come looking for me until my shield falls. Keep my family and friends away from it too."

The boy's request hung in the silence that followed.

"I've seen some….. things," Danny continued, green eyes pleading for them to agree. "I don't know if they're true – but I might have to make decisions out there that go against the plan to protect Amity- To protect my friends and family. I need to know that they're safe behind this shield. It's the only way I'll….Please – keep them from coming after me."

Clockwork looked at Ethelwulf and Frostbite's shocked faces as he floated past them, red eyes glued to the determined, pleading face of a fifteen year old half-ghost that started this. "I said once," Clockwork started, "That I'm inclined to trust your judgement. Through all those twists and turns of time, my view on that has never wavered Danny Phantom." Clockwork put a hand on Danny's shoulder. "Time has asked so much of someone so young – this is the least I can do."

"Are you sure this is wise, Time Master?" Frostbite asked worriedly. "The Great One is still not healed. If he goes in alone –"

"Frostbite is right," Ethelwulf said, cutting the Far Frozen leader off. "Danny, this is ill-advised. You just said you're not fighting him alone – why do you want to prevent us from helping you in your time of need?"

"We have a plan right?" Danny asked, an eyebrow raised. "No matter what happens to me, we need to make sure it gets followed. We're more likely to succeed that way. If my shield is still up, I'm okay - I'm still alive. The last thing I want is for Dan to use anyone I love as bait."

The two wolf-like ghosts looked at each other and sighed, defeated.

"I will protect them with my life Great One," Frostbite told him earnestly.

Danny turned to Ethelwulf, who sighed deeply. Yellow eyes met green once more. "You are truly remarkable, Halfling," he said proudly. Danny's eyes widened in surprise. "I will honour your wishes – however if your shield falls, I will come after you myself. I will not let you die."

Danny smiled, looking at each of the ghosts directly before nodding. "Alright, then let's-" Danny's knees buckled slightly, cutting his train of thought off as he grimaced in pain. Frostbite and Clockwork moved toward the boy. Ethelwulf winced, swearing under his breath.

"Something attacked my shield," Ethelwulf said.

"Mine too," Danny ground out as he recovered. He looked up in thought, frowning as his eyes scanned the shield. He closed his eyes, trying to find where the attack on the shield came from before sighing. He turned to Frostbite and Ethelwulf. "If I'm not back in half an hour, wake everyone else up."

"This has to be a trap," Ethelwulf said. "Danny, you shouldn't go up there alone."

"He did say he wanted to divide my attention," Danny replied bitterly. "Probably, but I don't want to chance the shield. Ethelwulf, check on the one around the portal. I'll have my Fenton Phone with me – Frostbite, head to the control station and we'll stay in contact. I'll be gone thirty minutes tops. If I'm not back, tell my family…" he paused, looking conflicted for the first time on the rooftop. "Tell them… to defend Amity. To get the Fenton Shield up and running. To…to be careful. I'll be back as soon as I can." Without warning, Danny leapt into the air and teleported somewhere outside of the shield.

Clockwork sighed, breaking Frostbite and Ethelwulf out of their surprised stupors. "Frostbite," he called. "You heard him, get to the control panel. Ethelwulf, check on that shield. The faster we do that, the faster one of you can go after him."

Frostbite and Ethelwulf exchanged confused glances. "I thought you said you trusted his judgement?" Ethelwulf asked suspiciously.

Clockwork looked at the shield above. "I do," he replied simply, a small frown on his face. "That does not mean I have to like it."

:-=-:

Danny held his hand to the shield, concentrating on finding the point that was attacked earlier. It's too quiet Danny thought, eyes darting from side to side looking for a threat. "Frostbite?"

"I'm here, Great One," Frostbite's voice came through the Fenton Phone urgently.

"Anything?"

"No. All clear on the radars."

Danny frowned, more unease rising from within him. "Yeah, here too," he said, standing, on top of the shield. It was holding strong; if anything attacked while he was up here, it would hold. He looked down and saw the mass of black surrounding the town, faint dim auras outlining each of the shadows that Dan created. Danny swallowed nervously as he lost count. "I'm headed back now," he said evenly, attempting to mask his concern.

"I'll await your arrival."

As the line went dead, Danny gasped as his ghost sense came alive, the icy cold sending a small shiver down his spine. He tensed, left hand alighting in green as he readied for an attack, the right going back toward his Fenton Phone. He barely had time to react as a large amount of ecto-energy surrounded his senses. He cried out in pain as it subsided, falling onto the shield in a heap. He barely managed to see a pair of white boots before the world faded to black.

:-=-:

"Sam, wake up," Jazz said urgently, shaking the girl awake. Sam rolled over, squinting slightly at the person who dared disturbed her slumber. "Sam, come on." Jazz shook her again.

Sam blinked before she recognized the urgency in her voice. "Is it time?" she asked, sitting up quickly and rubbed her eyes.

"Sam, Danny's missing."

Whatever tiredness she was felt left Sam instantly. "What?!"

Jazz sat back with a worried frown on the bed, her red hair glowing slightly from the light in the hallway. "Frostbite said he went to check the shield and was supposed to be back an hour ago." Her teal eyes met Sam's violet ones. "Danny told them he was coming back – then the line went dead. Ethelwulf went looking for him, but they couldn't find him."

"Was there anything on the radar?" Sam asked, grabbing both her time medallion and the violet jumpsuit as she hastily put them on.

Jazz shook her head. "No – but Frostbite said Danny just disappeared. No teleportation or anything, just… gone. Like he was never up there; we're meeting downstairs to create a game plan."

Sam nodded, putting on her last glove. "Okay, I'll meet you down in a few minutes."

Jazz gave her a nod in confirmation. "Good, I'll go check on Dad then. He probably got an hour or so of sleep before Frostbite woke Mom." Jazz headed out of her room, a worried frown still across her face as she raced down the hall.

Sam let out a shaky breath as Jazz left. Her eyes drifted to the small clock on the bedside table - 4 am. Two hours before dawn. Two hours before the fight of their lives. Two hours to find Danny.

[byorder-fanfic]

A Ghost Walked Through the Door

Summary: Anna Gray has been looking for her brother for a very long time.

Word count: 2637

Warnings: Mention of foster care and children taken from parents, swearing, implies abuse from Church (nothing explicit) and implies homelessness/ rough childhood.

Author’s Note: In the show, Anna’s age is all over the place so I’ve decided that she is a year older than Michael (born in 1902) because I really like the older sister dynamic. Hope you enjoy xx

Anna stood outside the wooden gate, staring into the typical country garden: green grass (that surely would've been vivid in any other season but the grey winter) that stretched as far as she could see, and slap bang in the middle of it all was the little brick cottage. The fire was lit. Perhaps he was there, the person she had been searching for as long as she escaped the boat. Perhaps this was it- the day she found herself. Her shaking hands did not reach to open up the gate. Not yet. The rusted old car of Jack Low's had clunked its way down the dirt road many minutes ago, leaving behind a trail of smoke and her. She was lucky she had found someone to drive all the way to the front gate, and Jack was quite kinder than she'd expected when she saw the white-haired bloke. It was because of the fur lining her throat and wrists, the newly gained winter's coat showing off a majesty of wealth she did not have. If Jack had noticed the thick chunk of mud clinging to the bottom of her leather boots, or had he clued on to her makeup less face behind her slick bob and fringe, or even saw the dimness of the plastic beads as she rolled them between her calloused fingers, he hadn't asked. Thankfully. Maybe Michael would- he'd probably be impressed with her finery, especially if the farm life was all he knew, and then he'd probably be a bit disappointed with how she acquired each luxurious item.  Finally, her hand (pale and shaking with more than nerves- why hadn't she taken Alberta's gloves that she'd had her eye on?) pried open the gate with a creak, as she walked into the garden. The sound of her quickening breath thrummed in her ears as she kept on going, heels clacking and tangling in the field. She made it to the door. Laughter boomed inside- could it be Michael's? Eagerness overcame her as she rapped on the door, politeness replaced with loud booming knocks that scraped her already bruised knuckles. The voices quieted, a quick "I'll get it!" from a woman. Michael's foster mother, perhaps, would she let Anna see him? The weight of a knife in her pocket proved that hypothetical pointless. Heels tapped closer. And closer. And- the door swung open, Anna's heart nearly burst. She was a portly woman, a warm smile on her face as she observed the girl with evident surprise. "Hello there, can I help you?" She asked kindly, hand still on the door frame. "Yes, please." Her eyes flickered behind her, where photos lined the walls, but she couldn't make out the one face she needed. "Are you Mrs James?" She nodded, yes she was. Another breath fell from her, a smile curling on her lips. The nun hadn't lied, then. "I'm looking for Mich- Henry, I mean. Henry Johnson. Your son, I believe." The other name still seemed so wrong on her tongue. Mrs Johnson's face fell, sadness and suspicion souring the woman's once kind expression. "It's Michael Gray now," she spat out. "Those Shelby bastards took him back to Birmingham with them." Anna breathed in deeply- her entire family was reconciled, all but her. Surely, if they found Michael, that meant they knew about the documents. Fuck. "When was this?" Her voice was meek. Maybe she could stop any real damage before it was done, stop Michael and her mother from mourning a girl still alive. "Two years ago," she said in a solemn voice, her eyes growing glassy. "Why?" "I'm Anna Gray," she stuck out her hand. Mrs Johnson hesitantly accepted it, eyes wide again in shock. "I'm looking for my brother." "Don't." She shook her head. "Those Shelbys are the devils, dragging my boy," she paused, "my Henry, into their Peaky Blinders nonsense. Your Michael...he isn't that boy any more." "He's my brother," she said, trying not to feel too offended at the disgust directed at her cousins. "He's all I have." "Very well," Mrs Johnson conceded, although obviously still disapproving from the look in her eyes. Motherly, Anna would call it, if she even remembered what having a mother was like. "They live in Watery Lane, Small Heath. Everyone there knows them, so just ask for directions." "Thank you!" Without entirely thinking it through, Anna pulled the older woman into a quick hug, pulling away when she felt her tense. "And thank you for looking after my brother all these years. It's good to know he had a good woman taking care of him." She couldn't call Mrs Johnson a mother, although she knew from the grief in her tone and photographs still hung up, that she was exactly that. But her mother was still alive- her loyalty was to Elizabeth Gray, first and foremost, even if she felt pity for this woman here. Just as Mrs Johnson had said, directions to the Shelby's betting shop (now Shelby Company Limited, she was impressed to hear) were easy to come by. Although she was getting odd looks from the men in uniform caps and coats, who were obviously comparing her clothes with that of most Small Heath citizens. Her years of searching were finally over and yet she couldn't find herself to knock on the bloody door. Or even walk down the bloody street. She loitered around the Church, not daring to go in, but not straying from its sight. The rosary in her pocket was wrapped loosely around her battered fist, as she uttered a silent prayer. The nuns and priests from the orphanage had jaded her to all things Christian, but this was a gift from Peggy. The good Catholic girl that took one look at the girl on the streets and decided to befriend her. Well, friend wasn't exactly the right word. She felt a burst of courage at the feeling of the wooden beads now, the crucifix hanging on the end of it no longer bringing vomit up her throat. "Oi, you there!" She jumped at the accent. It wasn't Brummie, sounding closer to Isabela's voice: another girl that friend wasn't the right word for. She looked at the boy, who was lighter skinned that Isabela, and wore the same cap and coat of many men in Small Heath. However, he himself couldn't have been older than Anna. "You coming in, or am I allowed to lock up?" "I'm just leaving," she said. Her voice wasn't from Burmingham either, immediately making the other boys eyebrow to shoot up in suspicion. She didn't really have an accent, just a blend of all the places she'd been and all the people she'd ran from. Despite her statement, her shoes stayed firmly on the path. Michael and mum were just a walk away, and she was stuck outside the Church as the boy faffed with the keys.  "So," he came up behind her, tilting his head. "Just leaving anytime soon, or...?" He had a smirk on his face and a teasing glint in his eyes, that immediately took in her appearance with curiosity, stopping at the rosary. "Just getting courage," she held up the beads before putting them back in her pocket, tapping over it to make sure it was safely in. "Whatdya need courage for?" He asked as he lit up a cigarette, standing stationary besides her. "Need to get to the Shelby betting shop," she shrugged her shoulders, hoping that'd get Church boy to stop asking. She hadn't missed the almost fearful nature her family was spoken in. But not Michael, of course- her Michael wasn't a Shelby. "Oh, really?" The boy put the smoking cigarette in the corner of his smirk. "Cause I'm just going there." She groaned internally, knowing this meant she actually had to go. "Alright," she snapped. "Could you show me the way?" "Course," he held out his elbow like he was a gentleman. Anna didn't stop her self from rolling her eyes as she took it, with only a little smile. "I'm Isaiah Jesus, by the way." "I'm Sally." Only the nuns ever called her that, in an attempt to pacify the girl screaming for her mother. Everyone else called her Anna, and Sallyanna if she was in trouble. "No last name?" "You'll find that out soon enough." For someone who seemed so talkative, Isaiah sure knew when to shut up. "Alright, Ms No Last Name," Isaiah teased as he held open the door, gesturing for her to go inside. "Here we are: Shelby Company Limited's very own betting shop." She was slow as she walked in, head turning to the pale pink wallpaper and the floral sofa. A cross hung up on the wall, alongside a number of Biblical quotes. There was a double set of doors, painted green, that were thrown open. Inside, a crowd of men and woman sat as numbers were called out, typewriters clicking and Peaky Blinders smoking. Isaiah walked past the frozen Anna, welcoming into the shop with cheers of greetings. "Hey there Isaiah!" One boy yelled. He was round faced and freckled, taller than everyone else and skinny as Anna was behind her thick coat. "Who's that you got with you?" "Sally here wanted to come to the betting shop." Isaiah gave a shrug, revealing that was all he knew, as he sat on his desk. Three men looked up from the table: one looked a lot like the skinny boy that had noticed her, but older. Not Michael. The other was broad shouldered and intimidating, with a moustache. Not Michael. The third man had hair as dark as Anna's, with the bluest eyes. But Michael had brown hair, and hazel eyes.  "And why do you want to be here?" The blue eyes man questioned, voice cold. She recognised the three vaguely, mind scanning for facts she once knew as well as the sky was blue. "Tommy?" She asked, eyes squinting, then she pointed to the other two. "And you must be Arthur and John, then." She didn't heed the curious glances as she stepped further in, head turning around to the people staring at her. "Finn, I'm gonna guess, although I never really knew you." The freckled boy had a shocked look on his face, as he turned to Isaiah in a "who the fuck is this" kind of look. "So, where's Michael?" Her voice was stern as she looked around again for the brown hair she only barely remembered.  "And why the fuck do ya wanna know that?" John, Anna thinks, stood up, arms folded as he watched her scan the room. "I've been looking for him for fourteen bloody years," she cocked her head, seeing a light flicker in the blue eyes of her cousin. "Now tell me where the fuck Michael is." Suddenly, a door opened, two sets of shoes walking through as they muttered to one another.  "Mum, there's abso-fucking-loutely no way I'm gonna do that," a voice said as he walked into the betting shop. The round face she remembered had sharpened out, his skin tanned (probably from the farm) in ways she knew her pale skin would've had she gotten onto that boat. His mousy brown hair was tidily gelled up, a smart suit on his broad build. He didn't walk in it like he stole it, she noticed proudly. His hazel eyes widened as he looked at her. The woman at his side was frozen too, watching the betting shop's sudden pause. "Who is this?" The woman snapped, dark eyes falling on Anna. She had the same dark hair, although hers was longer and in curls, and their eyes were just the same. No one could answer for her, and she seemed too absorbed in the two figures in front of her to bother with formalities.  "Anna," Michael's voice was barely a whisper, but is shattered everyone. Next to him, Polly trembled, pale skin suddenly whitening as she started to draw the same comparisons to the baby she had held what felt like a life time ago. "Hiya Mikey," Anna said in the same soft voice she'd use when they were little. She opened up her arms. "You too old to hug your big sister or what?" In a second, her brother fell into her, arms wrapped so tightly around her torso that she thought she was going to suffocate. If the fur on her coat was itching his face, he didn't seem to mind as he pressed his face against her neck, tears spilling from both of them. "I missed you so fucking much," she croaked into his ear, not daring to look up to her mother's broken face, or her cousin's undoubtedly confused faces. "I thought you were dead." Michael sobbed a little, pulling her closer as if to check she was real and not just the ghost Polly used to have nightmares about. "They said you were dead, gone to fucking Australia so I couldn't even see you." "I didn't even get on the boat, Mike. Couldn't leave. Not with you in England." They finally broke away, as Anna allowed her rough hands to wipe away the tears on her little brother's face (not so little anymore) and giving the biggest smile she'd ever worn for the longest time. "Been looking for you for years, been from orphanage to orphanage trying to find Michael Gray. Turns out that wasn't even your fucking name." "You were looking for me?" Michael's voice was an echo, sadder and on the verge of more tears spilling. "Course. Wanted to find you so we could come back home together." She took a dramatic turn of her head, grinning. "Although you didn't seem to share that sentiment, huh?" He tried to chuckle a little, shyly wiping off tears and snot with the sleeve of his probably expensive suit. "Went all the way to the fucking countryside only to be told that I had to go all the way back to Small Heath. Honestly, couldn't have waited a few years for me?" Her teasing tone was second nature, a whisper of the what was. "Bus fare wasn't cheap, you know?" Not that she used the bus. Or paid, with her own money at least. Still, it got another smile on his face as he hugged her again, letting her breathe this time. "Anna?"  The broken voice was enough to get Michael to back away, falling by his sister's side to allow Polly a proper view of the much longed for daughter. "No, it can't be, I thought- they said...but...you were alive this whole time?" She barely whispered, shaking the dark locks of curls with her head. She took a few strides forward, lifting her hand. Despite the great comfort she felt in the woman's presence, she flinched at the sight of the manicured nails being bared. Ever so gently, Polly placed her hand (too cold for comfort, but Anna had felt colder) against Anna's cheek. Bringing another hand slowly up to pull back the dark fringe that covered her forehead. Like this, she could see her wide eyes that had once looked so big on her bald head, the little pout that would tremble when John took her toys, the curves of her face that were so like Michael's, and her dark eyes that could only be Polly's. "My girl, my Sallyanna." "Mum," Anna smiled as she fell into her embrace, letting the woman hold her like she should've done for the last fifteen years. There was no tears this time, just soft smiles and tight arms clinging to each other like she had done when the coppers came knocking. Only she was grown now, and she wouldn't let them take her from her family ever again.