#that's when he's barefoot most. that's the comfort sign. quiet and barefoot. that's at home comfy amaris

[moinsbienquekaworu]

But what about... The OC......

[bluenerdtastemaker]

The Backless Revelation

We Miss You sequel (2)

--

Esteban Ocon x Pierre Gasly x Charles Leclerc | 1.3K

--

Esteban wasn’t sure what had possessed him to agree to this. Maybe it was the earnest sparkle in Erina’s eyes when she’d asked him to model for her fashion design project. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d known her for years—she was his neighbor’s daughter, a sweet, determined fashion student with a dream of making it big in haute couture.

“Please, Esteban,” Erina had begged, clutching her sketchpad like it was her lifeline. “I just need one male model for my final collection. It’s bold and unconventional, but I think it’s perfect for you. You have the frame, the poise... and you’d look stunning.”

He’d laughed nervously at her passionate pitch, unsure of what he was signing up for. But Esteban was nothing if not a people-pleaser, and he didn’t have the heart to say no.

Now, standing in front of the camera in Erina’s tiny makeshift studio, he was starting to regret his decision.

“Trust me, Esteban,” Erina chirped as she adjusted the fabric of the suit, her fingers deftly arranging the black material over his shoulders. “You’re going to look amazing. This backless design is the centerpiece of my collection—it’s daring, elegant, and androgynous. It’s meant to break stereotypes.”

Esteban glanced over his shoulder at the mirror, taking in the plunging backline of the suit that left most of his spine exposed. A temporary tattoo—a delicate butterfly and rose motif—sat perfectly at the center of his back. It was bold, yes, but undeniably beautiful.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, fidgeting slightly. “I mean, it’s... a bit much.”

Erina gave him an encouraging smile, her warm brown eyes filled with gratitude. “You’re perfect, Esteban. Just trust me, okay? And thank you so much for doing this—I owe you big time.”

Her sincerity melted his nerves a little, and he sighed, nodding. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

The photographer, a fellow student with a talent for capturing raw emotion, guided Esteban through the poses. Erina fussed over every detail, ensuring the suit draped just right and that the tattoo caught the light beautifully.

“Lift your chin a little,” the photographer directed. “Now turn your head slightly to the left... perfect. Hold that.”

Click. Click. Click.

As the shoot went on, Esteban found himself relaxing. The initial awkwardness faded, replaced by a quiet confidence he didn’t know he had. Erina’s energy was contagious—she radiated pride and excitement every time she looked at the shots on the camera screen.

“You’re killing it!” she exclaimed after a particularly striking shot. “You’re going to make my collection stand out at the showcase.”

By the end of the session, Esteban was actually smiling. Erina handed him a bottle of water and beamed up at him like he’d just won her an award.

“You were amazing,” she said, practically bouncing on her toes. “This is going to be the highlight of my portfolio. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get credit when it goes public.”

Esteban chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. “You’re the real star here, Erina. I just stood where you told me to.”

She shook her head fiercely. “No way. You brought my design to life. I’ll send you a copy of the magazine when it’s published, okay? Thank you again, Esteban. You’re the best.”

As he left the studio that evening, Esteban felt a strange mix of pride and trepidation. He couldn’t deny that the experience had been fun, but he also couldn’t shake the thought of how Pierre and Charles would react when they saw him in that backless suit.

Little did he know, their reactions would be far more dramatic than he anticipated; The morning started like any other in their home—a comfortable quiet broken only by the sound of birds outside and the faint hum of the coffee machine. Pierre was the first to stir, padding barefoot into the kitchen with his hair sticking up in every direction. Charles followed not long after, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he joined Pierre at the counter. As for Esteban, he was still asleep due to overtime at work, it seems the new project Alpine in seems to take more time than he expected.

Their peaceful routine was abruptly interrupted when Pierre’s gaze landed on something new resting on their coffee table. A glossy magazine sat there, slightly out of place among their usual stack of car and sports publications. The cover featured models in bold, modern designs, but what caught Pierre’s attention wasn’t the magazine itself—it was the image tucked inside.

“Charles,” Pierre called, voice sharp with intrigue. “Come look at this.”

Charles leaned over Pierre’s shoulder as he flipped open to a page bookmarked by chance. And there he was. Esteban. Their Esteban. In a sleek, black backless suit that hugged his slim frame perfectly. His back was exposed, highlighting the delicate arch of his posture, while a temporary tattoo—a striking design of a butterfly and rose—decorated the center of his spine.

The suit was bold, unconventional, and effortlessly elegant. His face was soft yet captivating, lips slightly parted, as though daring anyone to look away.

“Mon dieu…” Charles murmured, jaw dropping slightly. “That’s… our Esteban?”

Pierre couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out more breathless than amused. “Why didn’t he tell us he did this? Look at him! He’s a work of art.”

Esteban, of course, was still asleep upstairs, blissfully unaware of the effect his photo shoot had on his boyfriends. Charles immediately grabbed the magazine and started flipping through it for more pictures. Sure enough, there were a few pages dedicated to him—poses that showed off his lanky yet graceful frame, the elegance of his hands, and the soft tilt of his head.

They didn’t even bother finishing their coffee. Instead, they marched upstairs, the magazine in hand. Pierre was the first to push open the bedroom door, revealing Esteban still curled under the blankets, his hair a messy halo on the pillow.

“Esteban,” Charles called gently, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and adoration. “Wake up.”

Esteban stirred, blinking up at them groggily. “What’s going on?” His voice was still thick with sleep, making him look even softer in their eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” Pierre said, smirking as he sat on the edge of the bed. He held up the magazine, flipping to the now-infamous page. “Care to explain this?”

It took a moment for Esteban’s sleep-addled brain to catch up. When his eyes focused on the image, his face turned scarlet. “Oh my god,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands, mumbling. “I forgot I put the magazine at the coffee table.”

Charles slid into the bed on the other side of him, pulling Esteban’s hands away from his face. “Forgot? How could you forget something like this? You’re stunning. Breathtaking. Look at you.”

Pierre leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You should’ve warned us, though. How are we supposed to focus on anything now?”

Esteban couldn’t find a way to defend himself. His heart was racing as Pierre and Charles took turns teasing him, flipping through the magazine to point out their favorite shots.

“You’re wearing our shirts for the next week,” Pierre finally declared, his hands tracing a path up Esteban’s arm. “No one else deserves to see you like this.”

Charles nodded, pressing a kiss to Esteban’s temple. “Agreed. We’re keeping you all to ourselves.”

They started showering him with kisses, soft and lingering, trailing from his cheeks to his forehead, and down to his lips. Esteban was quickly overwhelmed, his protests dissolving into quiet, breathless laughter as they cornered him in the bed.

“You’re ridiculous,” he finally managed to gasp, though the fondness in his tone was unmistakable.

Pierre grinned, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from Esteban’s forehead. “And you’re ours.”

As Esteban sank back into the pillows, utterly spoiled and glowing from their attention, he couldn’t help but think that he didn’t mind being their doll after all.

[jungcherie]

Downtown

—𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: bestfriend!jaehyun x reader

—𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 2K

—𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: smut

—𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: oral (giving and receiving), face riding

—𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒:  He is your best friend, he has been hearing rumors that you are good with blowjobs but it's difficult for him to see you in that way. One day, he tells you about it.

— 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀: downtown by anitta, j balvin

—𝖧𝖮𝖴𝖲𝖤 𝖮𝖥 𝖯𝖫𝖤𝖠𝖲𝖴𝖱𝖤 𝖬𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳

It had been at least five minutes since you arrived at Jaehyun's apartment and he wouldn't open the door. Just when you were about to call him again, your best friend appears barefoot, wearing grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

"Finally, boy!" you exclaimed entering, without even saying hello. "Sorry, I was cleaning, I forgot you were coming"

"And I have reminded you about five times a week"

You walked and went straight to his room, his home was practically your home too, so you didn't mind asking permission to pass anywhere, and even Jaehyun had told you.

What's mine is yours.

You threw all your books on his desk and sat ready to study for a few long hours. Jaehyun takes a moment and then enters the bedroom to lie on his bed to play with his cell phone.

"I don't understand why you come here to study when you can stay in your apartment" he says once he hears the sound of the papers being moved. You let out a heavy sigh before answering him.

"It's more comfortable here, and I like being with you even if we don't do anything"

In part, it was true. One sign that your friendship with Jaehyun had come a long way was the fact that the two of you could stay in a room, quiet without saying anything and it wasn't awkward at all. On the other hand, your roommate was zero respectful, she had become louder than normal and that prevented you from concentrating when reading. You could go to the library quietly but being almost alone sounded ideal for you.

"If you say so" he responds back.

You took a lollipop out of your bag to eat while you were studying, because that was your method of keeping the information in your head and it was more than effective during exams. The sound you made when unwrapping it made Jaehyun pay attention to you again, his gaze was no longer on his phone, it was on your mouth.

He was in trouble.

In all the years you had been friends, he had never had those emotions with you. He considered you to have a good body and a pretty personality, however, his eyes towards you never changed. And even though he knew everyone (or at least most) you had hooked up with, he didn't know anything about your sexual preferences.

And again, it never occurred to him to sleep with you.

Lately on campus, your name was on everyone's lips, he had heard things from even his friends about you. She knows how to use her mouth, she knows how to use her tongue, she has nice lips. Everything he had heard wasn't explicit, but you didn't have to be very foolish to realize they were talking about how well you sucked cocks and it was a practice you liked to do.

You caught him staring at you and his ears instantly turned red. "What's wrong?" you asked with a smile and the lollipop in your hand.

Jaehyun shook his head, unable to get a word out, embarrassed. "Nothing, keep going, I don't want to distract you"

"Oh come on, tell me, can I talk to you a little bit" you said grabbing a couple of highlighters, without looking at him.

Again, he returned his gaze to your mouth and focused all the possible movements you were making with your tongue while you had the candy in it. Jaehyun felt the blood drain and pool in his bulge. He freaked out and changed position, now he was face down, hiding his hardness from you.

He decided to be honest.

"Nothing, I just remembered some rumors I heard about you"

A mocking grin replaced the smile you had. "I bet thousands of dollars they are bad"

"No, no, they're not" Jaehyun coughed a bit after speaking, he was uncomfortable. "So if they're not, you can tell me"

Never in his life had he been more indecisive than now. What was happening to him? He could tell you anything no matter how obscene or inappropriate it was, why now he kept quiet and made him nervous to tell that you seemed to be a good dick sucker?

He didn't care, and he did.

"I've heard you're good at sucking cocks" Jaehyun mumbled looking at his cell phone, avoiding your gaze and your mouth, his ears redder than ever and an erection that needed attention as soon as possible. The sound of your saliva gave him chills.

"What did you say? I didn't hear you"

From your position, you could tell how tense your best friend was. His hands were shaking, his toes were curled tightly, his mouth pressed and his entire body in a strange position. Still, you didn't ask what was wrong with him.

Jaehyun blew the air he had compressed into his lungs before saying what he said again.

"I have heard that you are good at sucking cocks" with a higher voice, you could hear it more clearly and perfectly.

"Well, I guess that's true." You turned your attention to the books again.

Okay, nothing happened. Jaehyun felt stupid thinking that something would happen after that. He was expecting you to get mad or something, but you didn't, you took his comment lightly and kept doing your thing.

Why was he like this then?

"Do you want to prove it?"

As if he had enough of the body tension, Jaehyun's heart rate sped up considerably. He turned his face to find you watching him, you were playing with the lollipop, running it across your lips in an attempt to seduce him, which was clearly working wonders.

"Would you do it?" he asked breaking the exchange of intense glances between you to look at the red candy and bite his lips, imagining you kneeling in front of him.

"Only if you give me something in return" you put conditions on it. Jaehyun turned off his phone and left it on his nightstand to give you his undivided attention.

"And what do you want?" he got up from the bed to go to you, lean over and bring his face close to yours.

"Let me ride your face"

Jaehyun let out a small giggle before placing his hand on your neck and answering.

"Deal"

The next thing you do is stand up, take his hand off of you, and whisper in his ear what to do. Jaehyun obeys as if he was hypnotized by you, he takes off his shirt revealing his upper body. You knew he went to the gym and worked out, the results of it left you with your mouth open and you couldn't not run your hands over his chest and his abs.

How funny, so what is between his legs is what made him nervous. Jaehyun was hard for a while and he wanted to hide it from you, that's why he was lying in a weird position.

He was about to kiss you when you pushed him onto the bed and he watches you take off your jeans along with your panties. You traced a path of kisses from his belly to his neck. And when you got to his ear you said:

"Ladies first"

Then you crawled and positioned both knees on the sides of his head so he would fulfill his part of the deal.

From the first second Jaehyun's tongue touched your folds, you felt like you were going to become undone right there. You looked for a place to lean on and ended up with your hands on his chest, trying to keep your balance and not fall as you slowly began to move your hips back and forth, making Jaehyun feel how wet you were.

He tried to do everything possible for you to enjoy it to the fullest, his face was already all soaked in your wetness, you were making small and little audible moans at the friction. Jaehyun wanted to stop and tell you that you could make all the noise you wanted because he lived alone, and the only ones who would probably listen would be the neighbors, clearly he didn't care if they listened as he was filling you with satisfaction, but you increased the pace of your hips and began to moan more audibly.

His large hands began to travel your body until they reached your breasts, covered by a shirt and a bra. He started massaging them with his hands, trying to get your attention, which he did, because you took his hands off from your body and took everything off. Now you were completely naked in front of him, while he eats your pussy.

His limbs were cold compared to the skin on your torso, yet it was better for you. The temperature shock between his fingers and your nipples was pleasant, Jaehyun pinched and caressed them while you remained focused on seeking your own orgasm.

"Shit, I'm so close" you said between whimpers.

Your legs shaking was a signal to Jaehyun, who pulled you off his mouth and shifted quickly. Your back was against the mattress, he took your knees and brought them to your chest, giving him a perfect view of your dripping pussy.

"Cum for me, girl"

He came over to devour it but this time, sucking on your clit, multiple times. You looked at him and stroked his hair, letting him know he was doing a good job and you were about to come.

Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, your toes were curling and your throat ached from the scream of pleasure you let out. Jaehyun placed a couple of kisses on your thighs while you pulled yourself together.

He stood up, you were a mess lying on his bed, looking at you with a smirk on his face.

"Now your turn, baby"

You stood up just like him and gave him another trail of kisses on his body, this time, in reverse. You started from his neck and went down to your knees, with your two hands you took his sweatpants and underwear and pulled them off. His hard cock hit your face from the sharpness of the movement but you couldn't do anything but laugh mischievously.

You kissed it, looking him straight in the eye. Jaehyun bit his lower lip enjoying the view he had. You started running your tongue all over the tip, not breaking your gaze off of him, though Jaehyun couldn't deal with the sensation and threw his head back, followed by a groan.

"Don't be mean" he whispers in a deep voice.

You giggle and put his cock in your mouth. Warmth invaded his body and he couldn't resist releasing another groan and cursing at the same time. You moved your mouth back and forth, trying to reach its full length. Damn, this guy was big. You had no choice but to use your hand to help you because you knew you weren't going to be able to take it all.

Jaehyun was getting carried away, he saw your hair was bothering a bit and took care of removing it from your face making a poor messy ponytail with his hands. Soon, wasn't only you who was leading the pace, but he was also moving his hips to seek his orgasm.

In between, he thought, the way you used your lips, how you manipulated your tongue, how excited you looked doing it.

The rumors were true, and you weren't good, you were fantastic.

Just to give you a little punishment, Jaehyun took your hand off of his cock and pushed your head towards him. Now he was in your throat, you had the urge to gag, but you held on for a few seconds until he left you. Your eyes were full of tears that brought pleasure to Jaehyun.

"Keep going, I'm close"

You stopped making any moves and let Jaehyun take control of everything. He started to fuck your face as he wanted to cum. He stayed still and you heard a loud moan and hot liquid go down your throat.

He was cumming.

Wow, you thought. All this time you were joking about giving him a blowjob in exchange for ride his face, you didn't think he would accept, but whatever, who would have said you were going to have one of the best orgasms you have ever had in your life, and better yet, that the person in charge was your best friend.

[the-slasher-files]

Hii, i saw your requests are open so I guess I could try asking,

Can I ask how would Michael and Jason (and the other slashers if you'd like) react finding out that it's their S/O's birthday. Like they noticed how much food they prepared but s/o didn't mention the occasion because it's not that big of a deal to them but still celebrates it in a way.

Hey, thanks for the request! I love this idea and it was really fun to write.. also added more slashers so I hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS REACT TO THEIR S/O BIRTHDAY

INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, VINCENT, BILLY and STU

JASON VOORHEES

How he finds out: when you left your wallet face open with your drivers license out.. boy was curious

Ever since living out at the camp you just kind of forgot about your birthday, it never really mattered, you were happy just as is with what you had

but he plans it for weeks, Jason can’t give you much in the day to day and he just wants to spoil you and give you the best day after years of looking after him

Waking up in the morning you smelt fresh coffee and sweets, which was more than unusual in the cabin

Rolling over to look at the nightstand you found your favorite mug steaming with hot coffee and Jason had put in your preferred creamer, just the way you liked it. Beside the mug was a small little note sloppily marked with drawn hearts and the words “I love you”

Jason melted your heart on a daily biases but this... it made your heart feel like it oozed right out of your ribcage

Propping yourself up to sip the coffee there was a sudden crash in the kitchen making you jump out of bed... was there an intruder?? was Jason in danger??... grabbing the heavy machete that was resting against the nightstand you faltered to the kitchen, hair dishevelled, barefoot, only wearing one of Jason’s ripped oversized shirts

oh... OH.. it’s just Jason cooking??? flour was everywhere, about 10 different bowls were scattered along the counter, the bacon was smoking and the pancakes? were burnt

Turning around owl-eyed, with flour on his mask and tattered clothes, Jason gives his biggest grin and signs “happy birthday!!”

Once you help him with breakfast he will be glued to your side all day.. more than usual.. Jason wants to give you back rubs, hugs and kisses as much as he can

His gift to you is a bracelet his mom had worn, it is the most meaningful gift Jason could ever give, and it’s beautiful

In the evening he will take you to a new trail you had never been on, old camp lanterns to light your way through the woods and into a large meadow. A large blanket covers the damp grass and there is a small basket with all your fav snacks

A picnic to watch the sunset and stargaze... perfect

MICHAEL MYERS

How he finds out: Michael knows everything about you, he had watched you for a solid year before you even knew, but it will take him a long time to get comfortable and trusting with you so it will probably be like the 5th year together before he really does something for you

Now Michael is not affectionate and caring is just not in his nature so your birthday is going to be interesting... to the average human it will seem like it is a shit birthday but knowing Michael the way you do it is the best birthday he can give you

All these years together he had done nothing on your birthday so you expected it to just be another day, but nope

Waking up to the smell of fresh tea or coffee (which ever you prefer) a steaming cup was on the nightstand

Michael was still in bed with you which was unusual but it was even stranger when he was running his large hands all over you.. gently

There will most likely be some morning sex but he is oddly gentle, making your pleasure a priority over his own

Michael will allow you to touch him for however long you want and where you want without protest, but ONLY today so take advantage

Going to the living room you will see a present you had been eyeing for yourself for a while now. It could either be a really nice blanket to clothes to cookware to a laptop. Michael is observant about everything so he will notice the tabs in your phone or that time you walked by a clothing store and almost screamed at how nice the shirt was in the window

of course he stole it and there might be a tiny amount of blood on it but who cares lol

That is honestly about the extent Michael will go with you and that’s more than enough for you

BO SINCLAIR

How he finds out: Bo isn’t exactly a gentleman with a lot of things so he really doesn’t mind just asking how old you are or when your birthday is

Most likely Bo will forget when it is the first 2 years but the 3rd year.. oh baby he’s got it now... with the help of Vincent reminding him

Birthdays have never been big for the Sinclair brothers, especially for Bo, he literally has no idea what to do

One of the only ways Bo knows love is through fast pleasure... aka waking up to him eating you out. Like Michael, he will put your pleasure first today and is going to be gentle with you, so enjoy it

Be careful because he might want to spend your whole birthday in bed if you don’t stop him

Your presents will probably be some lingerie he bought you (which is basically his present) and a night out on the town, going to your favorite restaurant and taking you where ever you want

Even in the truck he will let you pick the music which is honestly a miracle

Bo will try to bite his tongue as much as possible and try to be the best gentlemen he can be until you get home ;)

Going home to Ambrose he takes a different road, up a hill that’s long and twisted, Bo just smiles when you ask where you’re going, man is saying nothing for once and it might freak you out

Getting to the destination, it’s a small walk in the woods until there is a large clearing and a small lake to your right, this is where he used to go swimming as a kid and this is sometimes where Bo will disappear to on bad days

He will lead you to the dock and will lay you down, watching the stars and hearing the splashing of the water mix in with the Louisiana nature... It is pure bliss

Bo cannot help himself and will initiate a heavy make-out session

This is the way of showing you he loves you

VINCENT SINCLAIR  

How he finds out: Baby boy is far more observant than his brother thank god, so he will probably check your drivers license if you left your wallet out

Vincent will honestly plan something for weeks if he can

Usually he is a night owl but today Vincent will get up nice and early cooking your favorite breakfast, well at least trying, honestly he can make fantastic omelets

Waking up you will see a small tray of food at the edge of the bed, an omelet, bacon, a glass of juice and some small bouquet of native Louisiana flowers he had picked

Along with a little note card saying “happy birthday” probably with some little doodles on the sides making it fancy

Waking into the room Vincent will have either your coffee or tea, handing it to you with a gentle kiss

It will probably be just a slow, gentle, quiet morning with wandering hands, little kisses and soft words

Today he will let you do whatever the hell you want and will try desperately to get Bo to leave you alone for the day

If you want to go for a walk he’ll go with, if you want to stay inside all day in your sweats watching movies that’s perfect.. whatever you want

Towards the evening Bo will come home with your favorite foods, since Vincent hates leaving town. Dinner will be candle lit with soft music in the background. Vince will try to dress nice and in something that isn’t covered in wax

After dinner he will take you to the theater, watching the old movies you grew up on, even though half of the time you are only paying attention to the tongue down your throat  

For some reason my head kept saying slow dancing in the rain, so I guess when you are coming home it starts to rain and you guys slow dance in the streetlight

Once home he has 2 boxes for you, lovely wrapped. In one box it is your very own knife with a carved handle of your favorite animal to match his blades. In the next box is something you had been looking at getting for a long time, a new pair of boots he watched you look for online

BILLY AND STU

How they find out: Honestly they’re probably just going to ask you

Stu is probably going to be the more outgoing one and screaming happy birthday to you when you first wake up, Billy would just let you sleep in and drink his coffee beside you, running his hands on you and gently whispering happy birthday to you instead

Stu would make you a big breakfast and even try to make you a cake but something would be so off lol.. he tried

Billy just takes a store bought one from the fridge that he had saved just in case this happened

yes, they want cake for breakfast

Whatever you want to do that day they will make it happen, honestly it’s going to be fun regardless with them

An arcade or bowling or crashing some little kids laser tag party is probably going to be it for your afternoon. Winning silly arcade prizes, stu will get you a stupid whoopie cushion and Billy will probably win a little stuffed bear for you

Driving home Billy will let you play your music and he will just drive around the city, just signing your hearts out and laughing and just making memories, watching the nightlife and city lights

Ending up at the City viewpoint, seeing all the lights in the dark never looked so pretty with your boys, it might even leave Stu speechless

Whenever you are ready to come home a horror movie is defiantly on the list, whatever one you want and they will order pizza

Honestly Stu will probably pass out on the couch from the long hilarious day and Billy will quietly drag you to the bedroom.. really getting to show how much he loves you ;)  

[sdv-mostly-shane]

Hello! January is birthday month for my children, and now that we got the last one down, time to get right back in ~ In the spirit of parenthood, here’s some Stardew Parent Headcannons of all the marriage candidates -

Stardew Valley Imagines : Parent Headcannons

Bachelors

Alex

The kind of dad to be at every appointment/interview/inspection and cry at every point of progress “we’re one step closer to our beautiful baby”

Will absolutely cry once he holds that baby, and will have a hard time letting them go to his partner

Baby wearing extraordinaire- has multiple options for different occasions

Matching track suits to hide the fact that they were both a hot mess that morning trying to get out the door, but they did it, so time to celebrate

Would ironically have a brainiac child that he is absolutely enamoured with and admires - he sits at their little table, spilling out of the tiny chair, but refuses to budge because his baby is telling him about the water cycle of the Earth, and he doesn’t want to miss a thing

Elliot

A very ‘hands off’ parent - will observe them at play and not pressure them in any particular way

Probably a Waldorf dad

Sits his babies in his lap every night to read- they are the first ones he tests out a new limerick on, and respects their criticisms as much as their praise

Lots of evening walks down the sea shore and the forest edge.

Out of the bachelors, I think would be the most sensitive/attune to them, and would be great at breaking down their complex emotions and thoughts, and would especially be so with any neurodivergent children.

Harvey

The type to plop down a stack of parenting and pediatric books on the dining room table as soon as you two have decided to welcome children into your lives

Is the one to show the farmer how to change a diaper

In fact, just count Harvey as the one to be the party planning, baby book filling, milestone documenting professional. He’s got it covered.

Loves the newborn stage, is terrified of toddlerhood, but then back in control once they’re like 6. And then terrified again once they are teenagers (his kids actually consider him a friend as well as a father and actually enjoy hanging out with him (sometimes))

100% a helicopter parent, but more so the ‘I love you so much I don’t want you to ever experience any pain’ type of way

Sam

Probably has an accidental love child at one point

You can find him in bed with the baby, singing songs together, while he spikes the baby’s hair nice and tall

Do you honestly think this young man would not use every dad joke ever known? Because he would- and he would find them all absolutely hilarious

The fun dad that will also actively try to embarrass his kids in front of their friends

Keeps his kids home for “sick days” to sit on the couch together, no pants, no homework, and all laughter.

Sebastian

Would be stressed when they are newborns, but relax as they get older. By the time they’re teens, he would have cultivated a very trust and respect-based relationship with them where his kids are comfortable telling him anything

You’ll find him quietly at every event, game, recital, competition, imaginable. Supporting his children with his presence and then taking them out that evening to do something fun, crazy, or maybe even a little dangerous

His most fond parenting moments are when the baby is in their bouncer right besides him, happily babbling away and smiling at him, while he does his work at the computer. Quality time is his baby love language.

The type of dad to patiently and honestly answer his children’s millions of questions about anything and everything.

Will absolutely take them out to splash in the puddles when it rains (but then will also send them straight to the bath)

Shane

Is already pretty experienced in the parenting realm, but is thrown into a whole new adventure with the newborn phase. Finds himself to truly LOVE babies and toddlers

“Hm, can’t sleep? Let’s go get a snack.” “But dad, it’s 1AM” “I do this all the time, don’t worry. Just don’t tell [parent]”

Would let his kids roam free, but only if he is supervising, and is actually kinda strict/short. Absolutely fears losing his children and will do anything and everything to make sure they grow up safe and cared for.

A very stressed daddy but only because he loves his children so much that he would die if anything happened to them

The best cuddler out of all the bachelor parents. Wanna soft spot to curl up on the couch? He’s already passed out with his head back, snoring. His nice pudgy ‘dad’ belly makes the perfect pillow to rest baby heads on while he reads a book.

Bachelorettes

Abigail

The fun parent.

The kind that wakes up early on a Saturday with their kids, just as excited as they are, to eat sugar cereal and watch a show together.

Is always down to play (especially play fight). Will (endearingly) spook their partner a bit when they rough house because Abby has that wild feral look in her eye too often

The competitive parent that gets just a liiiitle too involved in whatever sport/organization/fair/et.al that the child is partaking in-all in good fun, of course.

I can picture her taking her child out to the forest, late at night, to lay on the soft moss. She’d tell them about monsters, lore, crystals, and everything supernatural and mystic. Whispering in the dark as they point up to the stars and laugh and laugh and laugh

Emily

Hippy granola mom to a T - have you seen her “organic quinoa and fresh goat milk” quote? She’d do anything to provide the best that nature has to offer her children

While her disposition toward her children is incredibly loving and free-spirited, she would probably be very resposible and stressed about doing right for her children

Would absolutely take her children by the hand, in various states of dress (jammies? Okay. Just a diaper? Alright. Ballgown? Let’s go), out to the forest with handmade woven baskets to collect all the gifts from the Earth that they can find

Absolutely the Craft Mom - she’d be all about enrichment, sensory play, and fostering a creative spirit

Tells the best stories. After bedtime routine, will sit with her children in thrir bed, and will tell stories of magic, of love, and of adventure. Her kids, eyes bright, won’t want the night to end, because mom is showing us how much wonder and mystery is in the world

Haley

So gentle and so sweet with her kids, but can send them running with just a ‘look’

Would be a nervous wreck the first go round, but an absolute master by the time the second comes around

Helicopter parent that obsesses over every milestone, growth, and accomplishment of their child. SO proud of them and can’t wait to praise them and brag about them.

The wonder parent that can do it all while looking absolutely breathtaking. She makes it look easy once she gets the hang of it

Can’t you just picture her and her baby girl in matching flowy Daisy sundresses dresses with pink ribbons in their beautiful blonde curls, chasing after each other barefoot in the fields, while the golden grass dances in the wind- gah I love this pretty pretty princess so much.

Leah

Cool Wine mom that drives a Subaru

Would absolutely read her child to bed every night, until they fell asleep.

Her transition into motherhood was flawless. She’s a natural parent who just loves in abundance

Soooo many nature walks, hikes, and camping trips. Always accompanied with a picnic basket, quiet peacefulness, and heart to hearts about whatever is going on in their life.

The definition of free-range parenting, encouraging self discovery and independence. Yeah, she’ll always step in when needed with some kind encouragement or advice, but would much rather watch her children learn about the world on their own terms

Maru

The do-it-all parent. Signs up for activities, projects, school boards, committees, and teams. Is actually on time, prepared, and succeeds in all of these.

The most prepared and responsible out of any of the parents. Always has snacks in her diaper bag and a first aid kit

Did someone say routine/chore chart

Would show love for her children through learning and new experiences-the best part about being a parent for her is watching her child’s brain turning and working as they think about the environment in front of them. At her best, her kids think she is incredibly fun and they have a blast doing anything and everything with her

Not exactly tender/overly affectionate with her kids, but absolutely concerned about being the best mom she can be by having balance of learning, play, discipline, and love.

Penny

Literally just Miss Honey from Matilda

Pinterest mom. All the crafts, DIYs, bento boxes with cute little caterpillar grapes-you name it, she’s already done it AND packed your backpack and laid your clothes out for you.

Can be heard saying “well the pediatrician said...” “hm well that’s not what dr alberts book said to do” among other “first time mom”things

Can be incredibly anxious worrying about their child’s development and well being. She’s been around kids her entire life, but this is HER child? This one doesn’t go home at the end of the day? Everything has to be absolutely perfect

The most sentimental-would absolutely weep going through the baby box to pull out the teeny tiny booties and smelling the baby blanket - “they were just SO TINY- we need another one NOW.”

[lazarettta]

Misthios IV

Characters (Spartan!Reader x Mother Miranda)

Rating (T)

Word Count (3.4k)

Warnings (none I don't think)

You're up roaming around the castle and run into Miranda and Alcina.

It's been an exhausting but thrilling six months since you've gained the eye of this region's reigning ruler. Their Queen was ruthless as she was beautiful and you were quickly learning that she had a particular taste for blood that you haven't seen since your days in Sparta. Creative and cunning as she was, especially when it came to acts of revenge, but she took care of her kingdom and her people so long as they were loyal to her and her alone.

It was that last rule that forced you to discover just how cruel and destructive the mountains of Norway could be because you were tasked with chasing down a group of runaway slaves—as a punishment. This was different from your 'normal' punishments.

There was nothing special about these fucking slaves, they were just stupid enough to think it wise to steal from their Queen and then dare escape. It angered you so much that she'd send you on this quest when a small squadron of low ranked knights would've done fine.

It had taken you a week and two villages to finally catch up with them into the mountains. The conditions were harsher than what you were prepared for and you had to abandon half your gear and continue on foot. The cold was too much for your horse to handle, but he was old and you were sure to put him out of his misery before continuing on your hunt.

You'd caught them asleep in a cave a few miles away from a village that was tucked away into the mountain side. You purchased food and another horse, costing you all the silver you carried but it made your hunt easier and quicker. You hadn't been looking for the cave but a small fire through the thick of the trees caught your attention. Tying your new mare a distance away, you crept towards them, sticking to the tall grass and the shadows.

They'd all been sleeping so peacefully, even their so-called 'watcher'. It was almost too easy to just go and kill them quietly one by one...but Miranda had specific instructions for you to follow if you wanted her forgiveness. She wanted to hear them scream while she slept and that was exactly what you intended to deliver. You unsheathed one of your twin blades and with practiced ease, you swung right as the watcher’s eyes snapped open.

You were startled awake by a scream that you weren't sure if it was from your dream or if it was a real one. You sat up half way in the bed of the guest room you were put up in, leaning on your elbow ready to spring from beneath the sheets but nothing ever came. After another full five minutes of sitting and waiting with no result, you let yourself fall back onto the soft pillows and threw an arm over your eyes as they began to leak tears.

Nothing of sadness or the sort, you were simply exhausted—you were still in your clothing with your parka not too far away just in case you had to use the window for a quick escape. You even kept your boots on, even though it was too warm for you but you'd deal with it as you've been through more uncomfortable situations that couldn't even compare to simply being hot. Of course if you take off a few layers you'd be fine, but paranoia hasn't exactly been very kind to you in the past years...with good reason too. You hadn't died in over ten years and you planned to keep that streak going.

But even as those thoughts comforted you a bit, sleep evaded you—no longer finding you worthy of its pleasures and you just laid there sprawled out and tangled within the soft white linen sheets that were probably now dirty thanks to you. You didn't care. They probably had more somewhere.

Resigned to the fact that you'd probably never be able to go back to sleep, at least not any time soon, so pushed aside the heavy duvet and slipped out of the bed quietly. You moved towards the window but the only thing you could see was the few trees below and a land covered in blankets of undisturbed snow. A little further beyond the tree line, you saw smoke coming from the chimneys of the factory before you turned away from the view and left your room. You looked left and right of the hallway but there wasn't a sign of life to be found, not even that little maiden Alcina practically made your shadow. It was probably later than it actually felt and she was probably asleep...everyone probably was.

Checking your watch— ah, right. Miranda even took that. She took everything you could use as a weapon and it tickled you more than it annoyed you. Unsupervised, you can now take your time to feel your way around. You didn't get a chance to get a good look at everything before but now you did, and it was an opportunity to get to know the Lady of the castle. You'd long dismissed the thought that anything in this village was normal, it had more secrets and shadows than a horror book you guessed.

Walking through the halls of the second floor felt like a trip down memory lane—no particular region as most all castles were the same. Large and filled with fancy portraits and trinkets that could house and feed five families at a time. Carpet so plush and soft that you could feel it through your boots with each step. It absorbed your weight like a welcome home hug. Clearly Lady Alcina was a woman of finer things in life and that extended far outside of her wardrobe and preferred wines.

It just unnerved you how quiet everything was, a castle thing large and prosperous had to have staff minding it twenty four seven. Nonetheless, you finally came to the door that you recognized during your brief tour as the 'wine room'. Like everything else you'd come across, the door was finely made from dark red oak with gold trimmings—just like Alcina's stagecoach.

Without a second thought about it, you opened the door—simply with the intent of getting a better look at the wine collection the maiden mentioned during your tour. But that thought was cut short because the room wasn't as empty as the silence in the hallway led you to believe as you'd walked into a full conversation by two people; one you were hoping to avoid for a few days and the other you thought was asleep...or well away from your location. You were wrong on both accounts.

“Heisenberg is a blundering fool leading a pack of fleabags, Miranda. He is going to fail again!”

“And we don't have time to stress other options, especially that one! We're out of time already and—”

“Exactly we're out of time so just ask her—” you pushed the door open a little more and it creaked quietly.

They both turned to you and you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to make of the scene in front of you or what you just overheard. Miranda and Alcina were sitting at the small table, well Miranda was, Alcina was sitting in one of her custom chairs a little further away and both women had two glasses filled with dark red wine. Alcina wasn't in her white dress anymore, instead she'd changed into a pair of dark slacks and deep red turtle neck and she was barefoot. A far cry from the regal dress she wore earlier but she still carried herself in the same manner.

You did your best not to think about how good Miranda looked without that damn mask on her face...even in those robes she still wore, Miranda was beautiful. Beautiful as the day you first met. You forced yourself to keep your attention on Alcina and not Miranda, who was now staring a hole into the side of your face like she was trying to will you into looking at her.

“Oh. Shit, I didn't know this room was occupied.”

Alcina glanced at Miranda briefly from behind her wine glass, her expression unreadable when she settled her eyes on you again, “Of course not, dear. Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat, fighting the urge to look at Miranda because you could feel her trying to will your eyes in her direction, “No, actually I—”

You were interrupted by an ear piercing scream and high pitched laughter right behind her, on the verge of being hysterical. Lady Dimitrescu sighed heavily behind you and finished her wine before setting her glass down and rising to her full height.

“Please excuse me, it seems that my daughters are teasing the poor maids again.”

You started to comment that it didn't sound like it was teasing but you kept your mouth shut, knowing better than to stick your nose in the wrong place too soon—it never really turned out very well for you the first time. It would never cease to amaze you how fast and quiet Alcina moved despite her size, but it still baffled you that she hasn't ever gotten the doors to her own castle fixed to fit for her . But those thoughts were pushed to the far corners of your mind when the door clicked shut—leaving you alone in the room with Miranda, forcing you to acknowledge her now. You shoved your hands in your pockets and sighed, you weren't expecting to see her again so soon.

You still hadn't had time to get your shit together after the last time you two spoke, or more like argued back and forth. Easily falling into a pattern as if you hadn't been centuries apart. You still weren't sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

“Take a seat, (Y/n). Would you like a glass of wine?” Miranda broke the silence but she didn't break eye contact with you once she caught you eye, holding you as if she physically had her hands on your face. “We don't have to talk if you don't want to, (Y/n).”

“Oh, so now we're suddenly interested in what I want to do?”

“Yes, of course. Wine?”

You scoffed, rolling her eyes at her typical answer and you wanted to say no, you opened your mouth to do so but instead you were getting closer to the table she was sitting at. She poured you a glass of wine, and handed it to you. You raised an eyebrow, she couldn't have set it down for you? She insisted on handing it to you and the way Miranda was holding the glass left you no choice to place your hands over hers to take it from her. Those gold claw rings were ice cold against your skin and the edge of one nicked your skin but not deep enough to draw blood.

You had no idea what you wanted to say to Miranda, you weren't ready to talk about what you two needed to talk about but you weren't sure if you could sit here and do small talk with her over wine. It was so easy for you to get up and leave, maybe go back to your guest room and lock the door. So what was stopping you? Why was it difficult?

Miranda, who had been watching you intently, interrupted your rapid thoughts, “You always were a loud thinker, (Y/n).”

“Nothing interesting, trust me.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Miranda chuckled, shifting in her chair slightly to angle herself towards you a little more. You sort of hated yourself for thinking how well she was pulling off the priestess look, “I could always tell what you were thinking even from a mile away. You were always quite the unique distraction.”

“You never complained before.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice dropping an octave or two lower, “though I doubt I ever will.”

You looked up, she didn't look away and you didn't know what to think. And for once, even if it was just for a moment, you saw a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Miranda, what do you want? Why are you keeping me here?”

“Because we need to talk, (Y/n), to...clear the air as they say, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay, I got that part earlier,” you licked your suddenly dry lips, your nerves starting to buzz a little, “But that's not a good enough reason anymore.”

Miranda scoffed, actually rolling her eyes at you, “Why not? Closure heals the past. Doesn't it?”

“But what do you expect after that?”

“What do you?” she threw the ball back in your court as she refilled her own wine glass from a different bottle than what she used for your own, the wine she was using was a little darker and thicker. It didn't surprise you that the question was thrown back at you, she always did that when she was trying to keep the upper hand or get it.

But it didn't mean that the question wasn't a good one because what did you want after this? Would it even matter after all of this time? Have you ever forgiven her, really and truly moved on? Did she even care back then, did she care for you...or what you could do for her?

Miranda was watching you the entire time become lost in your thoughts, a trait you still carried with you. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, her clear eyes taking you in while you were distracted enough to not notice her doing it so blatantly. You still looked the same as the last time she saw you, minus the murderous rage that had twisted your beautiful features that evening.

The modern world has touched many parts of you but your eyes still hold so much more than they did centuries ago. Being a warrior was now outdated and something of an historical myth but you still carried yourself as one, and Miranda could see new scars on your brown skin on the exposed skin she saw earlier on your neck and arms.

She'd been watching you for days before finally making herself known to you after going back and forth with herself during those agonizing days. Being far more irritable than she normally was and Miranda was positive that Lords Heisenberg and Moreau were quite sore with her at the moment. Well, Karl certainly would be. Seeing you made her angry...at first. Angry for the grief you left her with, the shatters you left her to pick up on her own.

Years of pent up thoughts and plans of revenge she'd enact when she got her hands on you came down to a single moment when she finally did get her hands on you and she couldn't do it. Miranda eyed your neck, where you should've still been bruised. She had you right where she needed you with one hand wrapped around your neck because you were so unsuspecting. It would've been so easy but she couldn't...so she knocked you out and threw you in a cell where she could keep a better eye on you. And perhaps no longer be so distracted from her work.

“Look who's thinking loud now.” you mumbled around the edge of your wine glass, finally taking a sip of the damn thing. Miranda wouldn't hesitate to bet that you assumed it was somehow poisoned even though you watched her open the bottle. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

Miranda hummed softly, “Do you really wish to know?”

You chuckled, and Miranda's eyes were drawn to the way your jaw clenched and unclenched when the wine hit your taste buds again, “With the way you were staring at my neck...it's not that hard to guess, Miranda.”

“You're only half right, my dear.” At your raised eyebrows, Miranda's smirk only widened, “My hands were wrapped around that strong neck again, but breaking it is far from my mind now .”

Your snort turned into a chuckle that was clearly infectious as Miranda joined you. Nothing was remotely that funny, if it was funny at all, but you were tired and the situation brought forth too many emotions for you, either of you to really process, and all you could was just...laugh.

Miranda was the first to sober up a bit though the smile never completely left her features. “Ah, and well... you know, it wouldn't do to try and kill the only other person on this wretched rock who knows me. Will it?”

You're very well the only person in this wretched world that will ever know the real me and still love me for it. Quite a miserable thought, isn't it?

You jumped when the door opened behind you and Alcina stepped into the room—you'd almost forgot where you were for a moment. Almost. Alcina took one look at the two of you, curious to find you actually still in the room much less sitting at the table sharing a glass of wine with Miranda. Especially with what she overheard earlier and how much tension you two create together.

Alcina knew that she interrupted something, probably something she had no business to but that did not stop her from sitting back down in her chair in her goddamn castle. And whatever drama that was happening within her territory was now her drama and she was going to get a front row seat. Alcina lit up another one of her cigarillos and pulled heavy before she released it in your direction.

“Running a business is quite the headache when no one else understands your vision, I swear. Don't have kids, (Y/n). They're messy and nothing but trouble.”

“Noted.” you forced a chuckle, not taking her bait but now you were trying to finish your wine as quickly as possible without seeming like you were trying to run.

“Well, how about it then, (Y/n)? Tell us a story, you couldn't have been a mercenary your entire life. Or have you?” You glanced at Miranda and saw that she was glaring at Alcina but the taller woman wasn't paying her any mind. And really, the only reason Miranda hasn't verbally intervened is because she was interested in your answer as well. Even if Alcina was asking just to poke at the situation for her own amusement.

“I've put away my shield and sword a long time ago,” you didn't bother to mention that you did keep them both in pristine condition just in case, “I've been enjoying the little things life has to offer.” lame. And a lie.

“Oh come now,” Alcina scoffed, not accepting your answer—it wasn't a very good one anyway, “That's—”

“Actually,” When it was clear that Miranda wasn't going to save you from this woman's nosiness (why would she?) You quickly drank the rest of the wine, it was really too sour for you, and rose from the chair. “I think I'll try to get some more sleep. Thanks for the wine and...yeah.” Could you be any more awkward?

Alcina was howling by the time the door slammed shut behind you and she took another pull from her cigarette stick, still paying no heed to Miranda's heated glare. “Oh, you're going to have to tie that one down if you want her to talk to you.”

“I will have your head if you stick your nose in my business again, Dimitrescu.”

“Then don't store your business in my castle.” Alcina shot back, meeting Miranda's glare head on but immediately conceded when she felt Miranda's growling through the vibrations of her glass in her hand that was still resting on the table. “Alright, alright...but you're always welcome to use my dungeons. Use chains though those biceps of hers could probably break through the ropes.”

“Alcina, that is enough!”

The Lady of the castle just laughed lightly until it tapered off into a pleasant hum around her famous Sanguis Virginis wine while watching Miranda readjust her face mask. Her eyes brighter than they have been the last few hours., Alcina pushed for one more question—deciding to risk Miranda's wrath, “How'd you ever let such a handsome creature slip between your fingers?”

Miranda sighed heavily, no pause in her strut to the door, “Egos and misunderstandings.” she was gone before the lock clicked into place.

I'm so sorry for being hella lazy, lol, I'll add the other chapters of this story today 😭😭😭😭

[sweeethinny]

Home (M)

Summary: Home is anywhere you are

AN: I just finished a story that I've been trying to finish for over two months

it's been a long time since the last time I wrote Smut, and I was very embarrassed to post it, but today I translated and edited it, and here it is :) no plot, just fluff and smut

AO3 or read bellow the cut

-----------

Harry was exhausted. He couldn't take any more training, listening to any complaints from Robards, let alone having to deal with co-workers.

When he joined the Aurors, no one said that everything would be so full of paperwork and bureaucracy to sort out, and that there would always be someone to test how far you went without freaking out. Harry felt almost cheated.

Sometimes, fighting Voldemort was less stressful than having to deal with the Auror Department bureaucracy that seemed to go on and on.

He thought all day about the time he was going to go home, from the moment he had to leave the bed warm and comfortable next to Ginny who slept what seemed like the best sleep of life. He thought about going home when Robards yelled at him, when he had to read ten pages of a Law just to come to the conclusion that the document was wrong, thought when he missed lunch and had to make do with pumpkin juice that Hermione had forgotten in his office, and thought about leaving when he received a letter from Ginny informing him that she would be arriving a little later.

He could plan something romantic for them, he could have made that fish stuffed with farofa that she likes so much, bought her favorite wine ... But no. Harry was stuck in the same office where Robards and Theo decided to fight and take out the anger on all the younger ones.

Harry snorted impatiently in the waiting line at Flu, completely ignoring politeness and ignoring anyone who wanted to talk to him, just wanting to get to his home, where there would be no angry boss, exhausting training and paperwork. Where there would be his girlfriend, silence and his bed for the next 3 days.

Training today hadn't even been the worst part, if it was true. Of course, Theo made them sweat a lot more than usual, and Harry even thought he would end up dying in the middle, but it was better to keep quiet and feel the pain in the muscles later than to complain and need to listen to Theo talking for hours and hours on how to train was important.

Harry just wanted to go home.

Ginny was so beautiful sleeping in his T-shirt, her hair all messed up and her cheeks red, mumbling a few words when he kissed her and said goodbye to go to work. He felt stuck with that image all day, meditating that he would have 2 days of it on the weekend, waking up next to his girlfriend and wasting hours just lying with her, completely ignoring the outside world, without caring about responsibilities or with eating. Harry would live happily with just Ginny in his arms, and that was what made him sane.

At the end of the day she would be there, with him, making him laugh at some thing that happened in the Harpy's locker rooms, and commenting on how much better he looks with his beard.

Harry hoped that Ginny didn't want to do something that involved leaving the house, honestly, Harry barely wanted to have to wear pants this weekend, let alone see other people. But as far as he knew the woman he lived with, Ginny was just as exhausted as he was, and was probably lying to keep them from going to some fancy and boring party, or some meeting of colleagues at the bar.

When he was finally able to use the Flu, Harry heard his name being called from afar by the Minister of Sport, accompanied by something that sounded like ''Mr Potter, we have great news.'' which made him hurry even further to travel to home security, because nothing would be good news from the guy who was in the Aurors' office all day complaining about drug use in the locker rooms - even after they went over three times the "clues" that Joe insisted he had.

The man more than quickly entered the Flu, throwing the dust and going to home right after, seeing nothing more than a blur of Joe and his frog face, falling safely in his own fireplace, seeing the decoration of the apartment that he and Ginny had chosen together.

‘Home sweet home.’ He said to himself, wiping the soot from his shoulders and taking off his cloak and shoes, ready to take a bath and prepare to make dinner. Harry knew that Ginny would still be late, the clock still indicated that she was at work, which gave him some time to think of some food that would be quick and easy.

But just from being at home, Harry was already happier.

Going up the stairs wearing only his underwear - he levitated the filthy clothes for the laundry - he started to prepare the bath.

He started doing that for Ginny, after training and with pain in her arms, he always prepared a good bath for her and gave her a massage, but then, he started to feel a lot of pain and tiredness, and started to benefit from the various salts and soaps that they contained. It was always very relaxing to lie there in the hot water covered by the bubbles and the feeling of peace that reached him, relaxing even the most tense of muscles.

The bathtub was not always used to relax, now and then Ginny and he would warm the weather there, intertwined, after drinking a little wine and talking a little about each other's day. Ginny would climb onto Harry's lap and kiss him until none had more breath, kissing him provocatively as he squeezed her waist, ass and breasts, traveling his hand to all her curves, delighting in the strong body she came from acquiring on account of training.

When his tired foot touched the warm water, Harry almost groaned in satisfaction, entering the water even before the bath was completely filled, the salts all mixed together to form bubbles and scent the bathroom. His shoulder blades hurt, as did his biceps, triceps and abdomen, thinking how much repetition they had to do in strength and endurance training, and how his palms had become callused from hanging on the iron bar

Ginny always said that she loved watching Harry train. They trained together a few mornings at the gym on the corner where they lived, and every time Harry lifted weights, Ginny stopped doing whatever she was doing to watch him for a few minutes - and he always tried hard to look attractive, even though he was feeling like he was going to die.

He also loved watching her train. Ginny was almost as strong as Harry, and watching her lift weights and do squats was one of his pleasures, always ready to help her straighten her spine and get a privileged view of her ass.

‘You are a bastard,’ she would say, as they walked back to their home. ‘I saw how you looked at me.’

‘Ginny, of course I looked.’ Harry would respond, sweating like never before, wanting to miss work just to enjoy his free time with his girlfriend. ‘Seeing you lifting weights is the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.’

‘One day I’ll end up getting stronger than you, if you just keep looking at me and don’t train as you should.’ She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, opening the front door of the apartment and taking off the hood of the sweatshirt she wore.

‘And I’ll come in my pants.’ He would slap her ass and smile, ready for a shower and a quickie with her, before he had to face the paperwork that was waiting for him at work.

The Harry of now, immersed up to his neck in the bathtub with hot, fragrant water, sighed, smiling at the memories, thinking how it was possible for someone to love as much as someone as he loved Ginny. He just wanted her to get home soon so they could get lost in the hours and rest together.

Thinking about it, Harry also remembered the diamond ring he saw at the jewelry store near the Ministry, shining in the window as if it were the most expensive jewel - it wasn't, but the most expensive was too ugly - and making him wonder how it would fit perfectly on Ginny's long, thin fingers. Was it the right time to do it? And did it have the right time for that? Harry didn't know, but he thought that if there was, they might be close.

[...]

'Starting without me?' A voice woke him from the sleep that was already taking him, making him open his eyes and see a smiling Ginny with her arms crossed leaning on the door, barefoot, with the tank top she used to train in and her shorts black, looking, as always, beautiful. ‘I thought you were going to wait for me.’ She said, starting to undress.

‘I thought it would take longer.’ Harry splashed water on his face, trying to wake up and go back to Earth, not even remembering how he managed to sleep in such an uncomfortable position. 'Hi.'

‘Hello.’ Ginny smiled, stepping into the bathtub and already going to his lap, laying her warm and slightly sweaty body on top of Harry’s, who was much more rested than he was minutes ago. ‘It took me a while, but I think you dozed off while you waited for me.’

‘Sorry, it was a rough day.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping them close enough for him to feel every bit of her, looking into the brown eyes he liked so much, feeling a lot more awake now. 'I missed you.'

'Me too,' Ginny kissed him, seeming to taste him as if it were one of the lollipops she usually kept in her mouth, playing with his tongue and making a point of brushing her naked body with Harry's, which was beginning to show signs. ‘I thought all day about what we were going to do for our weekend’’ She rocked her hips on top of his, delightfully making him feel her on his dick.

'What was the conclusion?' Harry grabbed her hair with his free hand and pulled back, forcing Ginny to let go of his mouth and let him stroll around her delicious neck, traveling through that sea of ​​freckles and reddish skin that made Harry delirious. The smell, the softness, her reaction, everything was the meaning of perfection in his eyes.

The sound of her moaning as she leaned back, raising her pink breasts from the hot water and brushing their pelvis even closer together, made Harry squeeze his hand on her hip and bend his toes to avoid lifting his hip and succumb to her teasing.

‘I thought we would enjoy it a little, after so many days that we barely managed to spend more than ten minutes together.’ Her red nails marked the skin on Harry's shoulder when he kissed that exact spot that Ginny liked, just below the ear, smiling when he heard her almost purring on his lap, moving her hips back and forth without even seeming to feel.

Harry needed a lot of strength to keep his stil, knowing that he would not be able to resist much temptation after he felt her fully under his member.

‘It really has been a bad day.’ He released his hand from her soft hair, feeling her shiver where he was passing, reaching his hand to her breasts and lowering his mouth to one of them, feeling drunk by the perfume that Ginny exhaled. Harry would never know how to punctuate the exact smell, but it was a mixture of flowers, something sweet and Ginny, which didn't make much sense, but it was what Harry felt. That had been the smell of his Amortentia for years now.

Her thighs tensed next to Harry's hip when he started kissing her nipples, and it seemed like it wasn't that important anymore to talk about the weekend's plans or how they hadn't had much time, not when Ginny she started pulling his hair and arching under him as she always did when she started to get excited.

Using all his willpower, Harry let go of her breasts and pinned her even more in his lap, groaning at the sensation of being completely touching, then rising from the bathtub. Ginny's scream of fright made him laugh, her arms wrapping around his neck to keep her balance and her beautiful brown eyes even darker, staring at him.

‘Someone trained well today.’ She smiled, not even caring about the trail of water left behind, the pink body of the hot water getting goosebumps with the temperature, and Harry almost dropped them when he saw her nipples reacting too.

‘Theo made us sweat today.’

‘Now I understand why the bathtub.’ Harry nodded, taking the wand just enough to dry them superficially before dropping that tantalizingly beautiful redhead in the middle of their bed.

It was like facing one of those works of art about Aphrodite that they had seen in the Muggle Museum they visited; the red hair, the dark eyes shining with excitement, the naughty smile he loved so much, that sculptural body that literally put Harry on his knees on the floor, all naked on the bed. But Aphrodite wouldn't be able to be as beautiful as Ginny was.

At that moment, Harry thought it was a good time to propose.

He did not imagine himself seeing anyone there but her, he did not imagine himself waking up or going to sleep with someone else, and besides, he did not want anyone else. It was she, and only she, that Harry wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Seeing her wear white, imagining their children in the future, thinking about what their house would be like, family vacations, everything... It had always been, and always would be, with her.

‘Never seen a naked woman before, Potter?’ She joked, poking him in the waist with her foot, looking even more tempting that way. The silky leg stretched out and invited him to come even closer.

‘All I thought about today was you naked.’ He smiled, grabbing her foot and bending down to kiss all the way he reached; her foot, her ankle, her calf, everything he was capable of kissing, Harry kissed, numb with pleasure. ‘I couldn’t help thinking about coming home just to see you.’

'This is very romantic.' Ginny pulled him so that he lay on her, then immediately turned them over and stood on top, in one of the positions that the two liked the most. ‘I really like when you’re romantic.’ She ran a hand through her red hair and naturally, pinned it in a bun, her eyes dark with pleasure. ‘I also thought about you during the day.’

'Yes? What was I doing in your thoughts?' His hands almost automatically went to her hips, trying hard to keep his eyes on hers, but the middle of her legs was getting closer and closer and Harry didn't have much control over himself in those moments.

‘Oh, a lot, we would waste a lot of time just for me to list everything, and we don't want that, right?’ Ginny would come closer and he could do what he loved to do so much. ‘My eyes are up here.’

‘I know,’ Harry shifted on the bed, a little uncomfortable with the erection that hurt between his legs. ‘Let me make some of your fantasies come true, then.’ He squeezed his hands again on her hips, pulling her into his face, ready to take on that position he liked so much. Fortunately, Ginny was willing.

Harry was happy that he had been doing it for some time to know exactly how to do it and how to make her squirm in that specific way, which he always thought he was away from her for a few days.

It was almost like a drug, he felt a little sick when he or Ginny traveled and needed to stay away from each other, because it was always something that left him looking forward to having her in his arms again. Not only sexually, Harry obviously also missed the simple moments, like lying on the couch and talking to her while they drink good wine, or watching a muggle movie, knowing that she will sleep in less than half an hour, hugging him like a sloth on the tree trunk.

Harry loved her with all his heart.

The first moan filled him with joy, needing to use his free hand to try to relieve the pressure he already felt, dedicating himself to getting her lost in emotions, as Ginny always did with him.

All the stress of the day felt like nothing now, nothing being more important than Ginny's pussy on his face, her thick, strong thighs squeezing him in place and almost suffocating him. It would be a delightful death.

Her hands, so delicate and small, tugged at his hair as if trying to break his head in two, moaning louder and louder and moving her hips almost automatically, seeming to lose her balance as she trembled.

It was a real paradise, he could do that for hours, it was almost as good as when she was kneeling in front of him. Almost. But still, seeing her on her knees would always make him shiver.

Harry increased the pressure of his thumb on her clitoris, knowing that Ginny didn't seem to be able to hold on much longer, straddling his face as if it were going to make her live, and it was he who almost came when he opened his eyes and saw her. Head to the sky, hands resting on his chest, while she moved her hips furiously and arrived in that state where she was quite noisy, almost worrying him that maybe the neighbors would complain. As they did a few months ago.

It didn't take long for him to hear his name coming out as a plea, her face falling and looking him in the eye as she came, mouth open but no noise coming out, looking like a Goddess, a little disheveled and sweaty. It was one of the most beautiful views of all time.

‘Fuck.’ She fell on the bed next to him, her head close to his thigh, her eyes closed and her legs stretched out. ‘You’re good at this, Potter.’

‘I’ve improved my technique.’ Harry smiled, wiping the traces of her arousal from his chin, a little lost too, it was always hard not to come along with Ginny at those times. ‘Was that what you were thinking during the day?’

‘Don’t touch me!’ Ginny patted his hand when Harry tried to caress her leg, with no ulterior motives, just because he liked the softness. ‘And yes, that was it, but you always outdo yourself.’

‘Thanks, I try.’

‘Great, I don’t mind being used as an experiment.’ She sighed, her freckled, red chest rising and falling, her breasts still pointing upwards gloriously. 'You said you had a hard day...' Ginny opened her eyes, her delicate hand resting on Harry's thigh, dangerously close to his dick.

‘I did, and all I could do was think about you.’

‘Have I said I love it when you’re romantic?’ She blushed, smiling lovingly and winking at him, which made Harry laugh and feel at peace, nodding.

'You say every now and then.' He kept his hands away from her body, even though Ginny's fingers drummed on the inside of his thigh and almost made him sweat with desire. Merlin, all he wanted to do was come, it was almost stressful and painful.

‘You didn’t specify your thoughts for me.’ Like a sly cat she was, Ginny moved, returning to his lap, but this time, sitting on his thighs.

'You know, the same old thing, you and me naked and a creaking bed, nothing much--' Harry swallowed the words, closing his eyes and arching against the bed, feeling in the clouds when her hand came around his penis.

It was a delicious sensation, her palm warm and soft, rising and falling slowly as if she wanted to kill him, while the other massaged his balls in the way that Ginny knew was driving him crazy.

Harry didn't even have to look to know what was coming next, but he wanted to have the privileged vision of seeing her putting him inside her mouth. And the redhead seemed to guess, smirking and winking as she moved to slide down his legs, making Harry move to sit more on the edge of the bed, almost coming when he saw her kneeling, as in the various erotic dreams he had when he was a teenager, but much better.

‘I’ll take care of you, babe,’ Ginny whispered, hands surrounding him and then putting him inside her mouth, causing him to fall from heaven to hell.

There were no words to describe the sensations he felt, losing strength in his forearms and falling on the bed, one hand gripping the sheet tightly while the other was on Ginny's head, which went up and down at a tortuous speed. The feel of her cheeks and tongue around him, the low moans she made, the moans he made, were all Harry needed.

The tension in his body was no longer because he needed to worry about paperwork, training, or reporters who were invasive, the tension now was because Harry was holding himself back from coming like a teenager who never got a blowjob, feeling the sweat settling on the base of the spine, Ginny's speed gradually increasing and how much she swallowed from him too. Harry was ready to die.

If the sight of her coming was beautiful, he didn't even know what to feel when he saw her with her eyes closed, concentrated, her cheeks drawn in while his cock disappeared and appeared inside her delicate mouth.

‘If you want to continue with this,’ He said, after a lot of effort. ‘Stop now before I ruin our night.’ Ginny opened her eyes, smiling as she could, slowly taking his dick out of her mouth, seeming to admire how much it affected him.

‘Are you so needy?’ Her brown eyes mesmerized him, as well as her fingers wiping the corners of her pink mouth.

'You have no idea'

[...]

'Would you marry me?' Harry asked, lying face down on the bed, tired, still a little damp from the bath they had taken, feeling his muscles relaxed on top of the soft mattress.

'Is it a propose?' Ginny smiled, also looking tired, her eyes almost closing, but still trying to stay awake.

'No, just a question.' He said. 'I never asked you if you wanted to get married.'

'Of course I want.' Ginny approached, wrapping an arm around Harry's back and sticking them together as she could, noses almost touching, and her floral scent filled his nostrils like a drug, cradling him even more to sleep, making him feel at peace.

'With me?' Harry asked just to hear her laugh, which worked, her smile flashed on her face.

'Who else would it be with?' They stared at each other, it was almost a total gloom if it weren't for the side of the curtain that let in a yellow street light, illuminating one side of Gin's face and the wall beside the bed. Harry could see her brown eyes sparkle, her red eyebrows rising, and her lips curl in that mischievous smile that she always gave when she was trying to keep from laughing.

'You have a long line of admirers.' Harry shrugged, raising his hand to undo her bun and stroke the red hair.

'You also have a long line,' she said, but she didn't look jealous, just amused.

'But it's you I want to marry,' said Harry, kissing her nose, smiling like a fool.

'Great, because you are my chosen one.' Ginny gave him a quick peck, the smile still on her face. 'And only mine.'

'Only yours.' He nodded, closing his eyes, feeling at peace.

'Not that I had any doubts, I mean, you grabbed me in the middle of a room with 50 people, and you don't even like attention.' They both laughed, the memory making him feel a little more silly in love with her.

'It is your effect on me. I already said, for you I would declare myself in front of a crowd.’

'And I already told you not to do that.' Ginny kissed him again, this time, taking a little longer. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.' He sighed, feeling at home with her in his arms.

[tatestripedsweater]

Plot: Kit Walker never came back from the abduction of him and Alma, the extra-terrestrials kept him until they were done with the man. In the year 2000 Kit gets taken back to Earth in a time era he is unaware off, he’s just as confused as the person who finds him in the woods.

Kit Walker x GN!Reader

Wordcount: 1941

Tags: @kitwalker02 - Message me or comment below if you want to be added

Key:

Italics - Flashbacks

Bold Italics - Aliens speaking

1964

Kit lay on the bed smoking his cigarette as he looked up at the ceiling, only in his white briefs he couldn’t help but grin slightly at the events prior. It wasn’t the first time him and Alma had made love, in fact it was the second time today they had sex as this morning they fucked before he went to work. Moving so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, he put out his cigarette in the small tray on his bedside table, a clattering soon got Kit up onto his feet.

‘’Alma?’’ He maneuvered quickly to put his jeans on and shirt on before walking out into the living room, she was nowhere to be found. Quietly moving, Kit grabbed the gun he kept under a weak floorboard, he did this so no one would find it but he had to keep his wife protected somehow. The air was cold as Kit walked outside barefooted, not even bothering to put on shoes since he was more concerned on where Alma was, she couldn’t have gone far. ‘’Okay this isn’t funny darlin’!’’

Silence. The fear that something had happened to her had started to set in on Kit’s mind, he didn’t want to shoot into the darkness just in case she was playing a prank on him and the bullet accidentally went into her. As soon as Kit stepped inside the house the entire room was filled with a bright light and everything flew up onto the ceiling, including himself.

“Alma!” Kit screamed out loudly before putting his hands to his ears at the loud ringing in his ears, it was like something you’d use on a dog for it to stop misbehaving, he felt like electricity was being shocked all through his body before everything around him turned white and he was suddenly laid on his back on a cold, metal surface. “Alma..?”

Looking over at his wife she was completely naked as was he, but she was unconscious and no matter how hard he tried to reach her she seemed to get further away from him. “Alma.. please wake up!” Tears were streaming down Kit’s face as his voice cracked, his nose was running from how hard he was crying, the fear was getting worse the longer he lay upon the metal surface. Hearing noises around him soon turned Kit ridgid, it was mumbling in a language he didn’t understand.

His head was beating like a drum, it was as if someone had punctured right through his skull but he wouldn’t put it past these creatures if they did. The mumbling got louder and so did the ringing in his ears, screaming out even louder Kit could’ve sworn his ears were bleeding from the pain he was currently feeling it, he just wanted it all to end.

‘’I think it’s time’’ The moment that left the aliens lips, the sentence unknown to Kit, the surroundings went a blinding white before Alma found herself back in the living room that she called home. Quickly standing up she looked around for any sign of her husband. With her whole body shaking she made her way outside hoping he would be out there, crying out for Kit, but all she got was a beam of light like a fallen star flying across the sky before disappearing.

“Kit..”

2000

You were used to people shutting down your claims of what you believed to have happened that evening. You remembered it like it was yesterday but due to you being a child when the event had happened, people just put it down your brain creating false memories to protect you from what actually happened to your mother. The officer in front of you was the same as all the others, he felt sorry for you so he never shuts you down when you tried to explain to him about the ‘abduction’, but he had to soon stop you since you were getting stares from people passing by.

‘’Y/N stop this.. we’ve been through this dozens of times’’ Huffing heavily you shook your head, a look of disappointment on your face when he said that to you. Staring the officer in the eyes you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at him, he always seemed to cut you off as soon as people started staring but you believed people of this town deserved to know. Of course you’ve gotten called everything under the sun.

‘’You should be put in a mental hospital! You’re turning into Julia’s mother, Alma, God rest her soul’’ You knew that voice all too well, she was the gossip of the town Mrs Wilkins and she had a face like a toad, and the perfume she wore wasn’t exactly being kind to your nose either. Feeling the annoyance and anger within you, you decided to stand up for yourself and the officer knew the look in your eyes all too well, but it was too late to even stop you before you spoke with a harsh tone towards her.

‘’Shouldn’t you be getting a new mirror, considering your face made the last one crack!” You quickly got pulled away by the officer before the woman you had now offended could speak another word,

“Go home Y/N! It’s getting late for a woman of your age to be out anyway..” He always used that excuse with you, being a girl of eighteen had more downs than ups, you sometimes wondered why everyone who was young couldn’t wait to turn eighteen, you frankly wanted to go back to being a kid again. “It’s six thirty, I can drive you home if you want?”

Shaking your head but staying silent you put your left foot in front of the other and started walking down the now lit street, the streets lights automatically came on around this time and you knew that your father was going to kill you for being out. It wasn’t even late yet they panicked if you weren’t in the house by five in the evening. Since your mothers ‘disappeared’ he hasn’t wanted the same to happen to you due to being the only thing left of her.

Sitting in front of the television watching your evening program your parents always let you watch before bed, you could hear them arguing like they did every day. The comfort of the teddy bears on the screen is all you had at the age of six, you held onto your stuffed bunny as you tried to drown out the shouting from the next room.

“I know they aren’t my kid you cheating whore!’’ You didn’t even understand what the words even meant at that point in your life, but you knew that they weren’t nice onces just from the tone of your father. Slowly turning around once you heard the door open you stared up at him with your glassy and wide eyes, his face turned soft once he looked at you. You were the innocent one in all of this, your mother wouldn’t admit to you not being your fathers even if it was the truth. Watching his every move until he was out of the front door, your mother was the next one to walk out.

“Come on you, let’s get you ready for bed” She acted as if that argument had never happened as she scooped you into her arms, the moment you wrapped your arms around her neck the ringing in both of your ears started. Her grip on you tightened in that moment and all you remembered was the blinding white light and the ringing. Your memory had gotten rid of the both of you going upwards to the ceiling and the details of the abduction. It was as if something didn’t want you to remember what happened that night. But part of you knew what had happened even if you couldn’t remember most of it. That’s what drove you insane.

Looking down at the watch on your wrist it read ‘7:00pm’, you were in for one hell of a lecture so you decided to take a short cut down the forest. You didn’t like the dark as it was but you knew if you took the long route it would be another hour till you got home. You wished you had taken those driving lessons from your father when he offered you them months ago. You would’ve been home by now if you had a car.

‘’I should’ve taken Officer Carter’s offer of a drive home..’’ You often talked to yourself in times off stress and annoyance but you didn’t want to rely on a man to help you with all your issues, even if it was as little as having no driving licence yet.

The snap of a twig caught your attention and goosebumps formed on your skin out of fear. Someone else was out in these woods. Taking slow steps, you made sure to pay close attention to every sound no matter how little it was. You didn’t know if this person was dangerous and you weren’t taking the risk of being kind if they decided to show themselves.

You made your way over to a bank in the forest, thanking god that you had even got this far without coming across the person that seemed to be in here with you, sliding down the bank your eyes caught side of a shadowy figure inbetween two trees. Your eyes didn’t leave the figure but the air got caught in your throat once you saw it run towards you. It’s arms reaching out for you as you fall on the bank floor due to trying to run backwards. Stupid.

‘’Please you need to help me!’’ The moonlight shone down on the figure as it quickly kneeled down beside you. Themale looked scared and you couldn’t help but go wide eyed due to him being in just a pair of boxer shorts. “I-I’m sorry I scared you, but I really need your help!”

“Okay! Okay! Just calm down..” The man in front of you took a few deep breaths once that left your mouth, him thanking you over and over again for your kindness to a stranger. “Just tell me who you are..”

“I’m going to sound crazy, I was taken by these things. I don’t remember much..”

“What’s your name..?” Your voice was timid and quiet but it was enough for the man in front of you to hear. He kept looking up at the sky then back at you and in that moment you knew what he was afraid off. Your mind wandered but in a good way, what if this man had experienced the same thing your mother had done in 1988? Or was he another homeless man looking for a home but pulling the heartstrings of a woman? You didn’t know but you believe the first question that was circling through your mind.

“Kit.. Kit Walker'' Your eyebrows furrowed once he told you his name. You recognised it from somewhere. Your brain was doing overtime trying to figure out where you had heard that name before, the last name you knew all too well. your neighbour, Julia, had the same last name and you thought she had mentioned a distant relative of some sort.

Maybe this was him? The next sentence he said gave it all away on who this man was. “You need to help me find my wife.. Alma..”

The sentence from Mrs Wilkins rang in your head like a bell ‘You’re turning into Julia’s mother Alma’

Maybe she wasn’t so crazy after all.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Silent Night [1]

Andy Barber x Fem!Reader (AU!A Quiet Place)

Warnings: Creatures, Blood, Stitches, Post-Apocalyptic Summary: In the town of Newton, it was silent. Everyone in the world were killed by unknown species that can hear you from miles. You’re alone in an empty town. No one was ever found during the year and you’ve gone quite crazy. Wondering in a neighborhood, you run into a survivor and he protects you from the creature lurking in the dark.

SPOOKY SCARY STORIES #DinoScaryStories2020

Join by checking out the LINK HERE! Hurry, there may be some films left to claim! First come, first serve!

Write your own story corresponding or goes to the film! Let this be an example, if you will.

Word Count: 4000+ [Yeah. I went a little crazy on this one]

Day 292

The trees began to rustle against each other down the silent road of Newton. The silence was like this for 291 days. The counting of days were important to you. It was hard to look at every day but you needed some relief that you’ve survived this long. You don’t remember how the world ended up like this. You were on your way to work before something large jumped on a large bus and killed everyone in less than 5 minutes.

You were able to drive off with the amount of distractions. Studying these alien-hybrids, they were sensitive with hearing. They could hear you from miles. The slightest squeak from a mouse, that mouse will not be alive. You claimed to have seen 3 roam around the area. Who knew if there were more outside of this country or the state.

You had no idea how to get rid of them, you just learned not to make a sound. 

No sign of people were found in the area. You were scared to be the only one. It was almost making you insane. 

Walking barefoot was something you had to do, in order to keep quiet. Your feet were torn up and dried. They were sore all the time from walking to find shelter and food. The town was not raided much since everyone had been murdered. You feared you might make the wrong step and get yourself killed.

You couldn’t bother calling anyone you knew. The towers were shut off and if you had the chance to, they would get killed by those things. You figured to leave Massachusetts to find people around. Someone outside of the state, find better shelter. 

And that’s what you were doing at this moment. Searching stores to find band aids, medicine and food. You found cans and slipped them into your bag. You had no idea how to open them without making a sound. Put a cloth over them was an idea to open it without a sound but you needed more things. Slowly you slipped the items in your bag and made sure they never made a sound even if you moved.

After raiding the store, you stepped out and made your way down the road. Passing by the courthouse that was torn from the outside. The front doors were ripped open from something trying to get in. You never saw signs of people who died. The creatures didn’t seem to leave a single part. You kept walking for the next hour, seeing the sun get lower than ever.

You needed to find a nearby neighborhood fast and get to an open door. You came across a small neighborhood and began to search the homes. You tried to open the doors softly to not make a sound. Most of the doors were locked and you needed to hurry. You came across a home that looked open. The driveway was some way to hide and find a way in quietly.

You made your way up to the driveway and heard low growling behind but it sounded a ways down the street. You turn back to see a flash of dark before a hand comes over your mouth and the force pulls you back into the side of the house.

You hear the growl and you shut up, you’re frozen in whoever’s arms you were in. The man looks over your shoulder and removes his hand from your mouth and held his index finger to his lips. Be quiet.

The creature walks down the street, its low growls rumbled in your ears like a motor from a exotic car or a large lion in a cage in hunger. Though it couldn’t see you, you were frozen under the man’s touch. His blue eyes stare at you and he slowly stands up and softly pulls you up, guiding you behind the house. He looked behind to make sure the monster was occupied with a snap of a twig down the street.

He guided you into the home and he lets you go, turning to close the door and gently clicked it closed. He turns to you and his brows raise up at you and his head tilts down. You okay?

You nod once. I’m fine. His hands raises up and you noticed his fingers twitched in signs. His brows still raised, “I’m Andrew. I’m not going to hurt you.” His hand reaches out to somewhat give you a gentle sign of ‘I’m calm and I’m friendly’. You understood Sign Language. It was something you learned in high school. Your hands lifted up and your hands bent to sign.

“I’m Y/N.”

He grins softly and raises his hands up again, his index fingers coming together. “Nice to meet you.” You look down to see his forearm. The vibrant color of red was oozing down his arm and your face drops in worry. Then your hands lift up, “You’re hurt.”

The man follows suit of your gaze and turns away to find something to wrap it. You instantly grab his arm to stop him and you slid off your bag. “Let me help you.” You sat him down on the couch and you dug through your bag and he peered inside to see the amount of medication, cans of food and supplies that were needed in his own space. 

He had gone out almost every day. Never saw someone or animals. You came in like God had sent you down. He wasn’t a man of prayer, but since this whole thing came down, he started to. You were like an angel. An angel in disguise of dirtied clothes and he knew you would have a voice like no other. When you touched his arm, he winced and grabbed your wrist to stop you. He shook his head.

Not here.

He knew a place and took your hand, guiding you into the other room. A door that might lead to a closet. But when he opens it slowly, his arm was dripping with blood, a new blood vessel bothered by your own touch and covered the dried blood from a week ago. You look down to see the basement stairs and he stepped down carefully and you followed with your bag in hand.

He motions you to close the door and so you did. The door was covered with foam, even the walls. The foam were all dirtied and probably ripped from the mattresses or things he found outside.

The room was completely covered in foam and you placed your bag on the table. Firefly lights were all around and even a radio was near where your bag was placed. You reached for it and saw the stations.

“I tried to listen for people-” You turned around and held your hand up to stop him, your eyes widen in fear by his voice. You held your other hand to your lips. His reaction was calm and he pulled his hand up to you. “Relax. Nothing can hear us down here. The foam.” You look around the room to hear anything above you two. Nothing heavy or loud growls.

Your breathing was so heavy, it was the only thing you could hear. “As I was saying. The radio is damaged but I was able to fix parts of it and I tried every station. I couldn’t hear anyone. I even tried the departments. Military,” He says. Your gaze follows the walls and your hand grazes the edge of the table.

“Is there anyone else with you?” You asked quietly as if you weren’t confident and brave enough to speak even if he told you it was okay to. His face told you the story already with the frozen look, you could see he was reliving the whole event in his mind. “No. I lost my son in a coma a year ago. My wife was killed later on.” 

“Did it get her?” You ask another.

His eyes turned away and his chest rises to take in the thin humid air of the basement. You see the blood drip down his arm and you grab your bag. “Here.” You take your bag in hand and helped him to the chair, “Sit down.” He follows your order and sat in front of you. 

“This might hurt,” You say to him. He doesn’t say anything as he watches you pull his sleeve back. A large gash in his arm, you couldn’t help but wince at the scene. “What happened?” You asked, grabbing the belt from the bag and wrapped it around his arm.

“I was in town, looking for-” You cut him off when you tighten the belt above his gash to stop the bleeding. He groans in pain. “Fuck!” He hisses. You cringe to the sight of blood gushes out. You pull something out of your bag and held it up. “Bite on this. You’re not going to feel pleasant for this.” You pull out a bottle of alcohol and he grits his teeth. “Jesus Christ.” He puts the item between his teeth and he cranes his neck back to not look down. He looks back down out of fear just as you poured it onto the wound and he shouts in pain, his other hand slamming onto the armrest. 

“Are you a doctor?” He asks, after spitting out the object in his mouth. His chest heaves up and down. Your brows furrowed into a focusing stare, “Medical Academy in high school. Felt like Dr. Meredith Grey in Grey’s Anatomy.” Andrew chuckles, breathlessly till you cut him off again by adding your skills onto his wound. You stitched it up, patched it and wrapped it tight but enough to let the blood flow through his body again.

“Try not to use it,” You warn nonchalantly. He nods once and rolls his bloodied sleeve down, “I’ll try not to.” You were calm around him throughout the rest of the day. The creature didn’t seem to roam the neighborhood but he had been staying in the basement ever since.

“I guess I tend to snore very loud,” He jokes, making you smile at the least. The first night you stayed with him, it wasn’t too uncomfortable. You believed it was the best sleep you’ve had for a long time. You never worried about how loud you were. Your brain was the loudest of it all. It made so much noise of static, you tossed and turned. 

It was Day 304. Almost two weeks with Andrew had never been more comforting than it was alone. Without a doubt, you felt his hand come to contact with your back. But in your head you didn’t think of it. You were sure your mind was making up some kind of comfort. But it was Andrew. 

That morning you were packing your things in your backpack. Andrew shift awake and saw you. “Where you going?” He asks with what was his hoarse voice. Your backpack swung on your shoulders and you paused for a beat. “I need to go. Look for supplies for your arm.”

His eyes glance at his arm that was seeping a bit with his blood so the man grunts, sitting up. “His head hung, “If you’re going I’m coming with you.”

There was no reason to argue with him. Even if you did, it would be you two quietly arguing back and forth. You waited for him to get himself ready. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you noticed how dirty his shirt was covered in. The sweat collecting on his forehead already from the basement heat. He nods to encourage you both to head up and officially become silent as a mouse. 

Andrew was the first to step out into the neighborhood. He made sure nothing was around and he held his hand out to motion you forward. Once you met at his side, his hands lifted up, brows raised up. “Town is down the street. Might be a good idea to go.” You nodded on where he pointed.

He points again, “Cold Spring Park is not far.” He motions you to follow him and so you did. You both were barefoot. Feet dirtied, bruised and cut from the journeys you took to get yourself here. His weren’t as bad as yours. You both walked onto a trail with the large sign, Cold Spring Park. You weren’t familiar with it but Andrew always made eye contact with the creek in the park. 

The trail ended and there were schools, homes and supermarkets. Cars were impacted either with each other or into poles and stores. Andrew’s eyes were squinted to look upon the street ahead. It was silent. You held tightly onto your backpack straps and felt his hand latch onto your shoulder and pointed to the open store. You both walked over there and he points to the shattered glass. Watch your step.

He was the first to enter through the shattered window and he turns to you, holding his hand out for you. You took his hand and watched your step as he somewhat carried you in. You both took foot into the store and saw a bit of what remained in the store. Andrew glances over to you and points at one of the aisles. I’ll head down this one.

You nod at him and went your own way down the other. Searching what was left, you picked things up from the shelf and then checked their dates or read what they could do to help you and your partner. Canned foods were found along the shelves and they weren’t things you liked but they had to be something. Looking over the shelves, Andrew was not in your sight. Your brows furrowed, you couldn’t call out for his name. You watched your step as you tried to make your way to the end of the aisle. 

Just as you got to the end, you jump to the sight of him almost lunging at you. Your breath was caught in your throat as he holds his hand up to you. Then he puts it to his chest in a fist, “Sorry.” The sincere look on his face was believable so you continued your way to the back of the store. Andrew makes his way to the back of the room, entering another room for employees only as you scanned the shelves of small debris and rotting food that were probably scavenged days ago. 

You find more medical supplies that were remaining and then you felt Andrew tap your shoulder. You turned and your eyes look down to the large shotgun in his hands, your eyes widen and the pair look back up to him, shockingly. His head tilts and his face drops, shaking his head. You mouthed, “No.”

He turns you around so he could slip the shotgun into your bag, it stuck out of the bag but he managed to get it to fit. He then lifts up his hands, brows raised up to reason with you, “Not loaded. For our safety.”

Your hands lift up, brows furrowed in fear to show him how nervous you were, “How would it help?” Andrew pauses for a moment and your head tilts to the side. He sighs softly, “It will help. Trust me. There are still people out there.” You couldn’t argue further because he did have some points in his reasoning. You never saw people when you walked around town, but if you and Andrew were both still alive, there was a sign others would be out there.

And they don’t plan on trusting others on their team.

That day, the sun was slowly coming down. And Andrew insisted on taking the trail again, before you two went down that road, you looked into a car to find things. The doors were open, glass were all on the floor and on the chairs. Blood stained the seats and the keys still remained in the ignition. Andrew watched your back as you did this, you slowly opened the glovebox and found a small music player. 

It was still in good condition. The earbuds were attached and you thought about it. You took them. It wasn’t useful, but it would be something to calm you in your sleep. Andrew never minded what you were doing and you walked back to the basement with him. It was quiet throughout your walk. Dumbfounded at yourself, you had to. You had to keep your thoughts of questions memorized throughout the walk back.

Caught a couple snap of twigs in the forest but they never triggered any other species around. 

Andrew let you go first down the stairs and followed behind, closing the door. Once you both stood in the basement, Andrew goes for the shotgun first. You slightly gasped, “Be careful with that, Andrew.” He pauses for a moment and lays it on the table, “I will. Trust me. This could do us some good.”

“But it can draw attention.”

Andrew ignores your last comment and pulls the shells for the gun on the table. You continued to pull out the medical supplies, “I’m gonna need to replace your bandage,” You say. Andrew doesn’t fight you back to say I’m fine. He sits down and you put his arm in your lap and unraveled the bandage. “Andy.”

You peer up at him, his eyes watched your hands carefully till they meet yours. “Not many call me Andrew. If it’s better, you can call me Andy.” You grin softly and shook your head. “They’re both two syllables. Nothing too different about them.” Andy grins and watches as you peeled the used patch off, revealing the ruined skin.

Andy hissed a bit as you cleaned the blood around it, the skin that was stitched together was evident like a large vein. You cleaned it enough to finish it off by patching it again. “I would’ve died from bleeding or an infection if you weren’t here.” You grinned softly at that and lifted your head up at him. “I guess we’re both lucky.” His stare on you was longer than you expected.

Once you wrapped his arm, you looked up to him. His blue eyes searched for some spark in your eyes, shifting from your left to your right. Then when his eyes landed on your lips for a split second. You knew what was going to happen. Your head turns, inhaling softly, “We should head to bed.”

He didn’t show any signs of embarrassment. He could only nod and sigh, “Yeah. We should. We can go out. Look for some things out there. Useful to us.” He began to get comfortable on the one bed he had and shared with you. You two always stayed apart and you thought to ease your nightmares, toss and turns, you took out the music player you had. 

Surely the creatures could not hear the music, you hoped it had good songs. Calming and safe songs. You got into bed and turned your back to Andy, facing the wall. You felt him pull the covers over you and turned away like you did. Back-to-back as usual. The heat in the basement wasn’t good for you. The music played and you slipped the buds into your ears and found the songs calming.

Your mind going to the places where this wasn’t happening. Where you had a nice family, friends and a good job. At that moment, you stayed up for hours, going over those memories. You sighed softly and turned onto your other side and your eyes opened slowly to see Andy facing you. His eyes were closed but he looked tensed like you were. Nervousness. Fear. His eyes opened to feel your gaze and he sees you looking at him for an answer. Neither of you had one.

You didn’t know what to say.

Roslyn by Bon Iver played on a loop. You took the idea and slipped one of the buds out of your ears and handed it to him. His eyes followed your hand and took it, not hesitating to put it in his ear, curiously wondering what you were listening to. Once he did, you could feel his shoulders relax in that moment. He sees your eyes close to listen to the soft music play in your ears. His grin softly lifted but it dropped slowly. 

Eyes opening to look at him, his lips parted to say something. He felt more embarrassed to sit there dumbfounded till his body lifts up and your back turns to lay flat on the mattress as Andy head hovers over yours and his lips crash onto yours. The music still playing in your guys’ ears, you kissed back. His hand gently on your hip. His other arm resting near your head, your head tilts to deepen the kiss and Andy sighs on your lips when your hand tugs his jeans.

Day 315

The next weeks, you and Andy tried to stay alive. You cut your proportions on canned food. Shared a can a day. The markets here weren’t stocked as much as you two hoped. Your cans were stack on stack but they seem to get lower every week. It worried you but traveling around wasn’t much. When you do go out, Andy makes sure he grabs the shotgun, loaded. 

Never once you ran into someone else. It would be some relief for someone to be alive but the fear of them being the enemy. Andy’s arm had began to heal, you made sure no infections were forming. It was a sign of relief. The creatures were never caught near you, yet. Not one of you had made the mistake of making noise.

Andy held the gun tightly to his chest like a man in war. He stood behind you at all times, keeping your back covered as he watched every turn. That endeavor between you and Andy. It became a usual thing. He became more protective than you expected. Nights where he made you forget at times. Nights where you both listened to music. Danced to the slow songs. 

It was something you thought was official. Nowhere to turn. You both had nowhere to run off to. So why leave each other?

You see Andy point to the store, he puts the gun under his arm and his hands lift up, “I’ll be in there, wait here.” He goes in the small store and you looked around to see a car. The doors were all open. Making your way over to the vehicle, you searched every crevice. Newspapers. Keys. Toys. Junk food. You made your way to the passenger side and opened the glovebox. 

Your eyes widen to see something heavy fall from the glovebox and you went to reach for it. And your foot steps on a toy.

“Let’s count to ten!” The toy cheerfully says.

Your heart drops.

“One…” You look around the street to not see anything come just yet. 

“Two…” Your breathing is what you hear. Heart banging against your chest like a bass drum.

“Three…” You’re losing your own hearing, frozen on the spot. “Four…” Tears began to form your eyes. This is it. “Five…” This is it. “Six…” 

This is how you’re going to die. “Seven…” You could hear the birds fly in the sky by something disturbing their rest in the trees. “Eight…” You feel someone pull you away. “Nine…” You hear a loud growl and your hearing comes back. “Ten!” Andy has your hand locked in his. He ducks when the creature crashes into the car where you were at and Andy shoves you to the side. 

“Fantastic!” The toy shouts, leaving it off with a short melody and then stops. You’re 8 feet away from where Andy laid. Both of you stumbled on the ground and the creature’s head turns. The layers on its face peels open like scabs of its skin. The loud purring sound made you hold your breath. Andy has his gun pointed at the creature, ready to blow its head off. 

You’re mentally screaming at him not to. You’ve seen the military take on these things on the news. Their armor is strong. He has no chance. Andy finally looks over to you and he sees you shake your head. His eyes are soft towards as his mouths his last words.

“Run.”

You turn back to the creature and see it walk towards Andy but doesn’t sense him yet. You’re panicking, mind thinking of a plan. Scream. Distract him from Andy. Throw something. You both have the chance. But no better route to escape from. The gun was an option but the armor was going to be a bad idea. Your eyes land on the car keys on the ground. You look over to Andy and he’s completely on his back, gun just a feet away from the creatures face. Its drool landing on Andy’s shirt and staining. He could smell the rot in its breath.

The rumbling sound of its purring felt like thunder. His grip tightens on the gun. Andy’s waiting to do it. 

You grit your teeth.

That will not be your last word, Andy. You push the alarm button on the keys and the car alarm goes off. The creature’s skin lifts up to hear for a split second till Andy fires the shotgun. The creature lunges up and collapses to the side, legs twitching near Andy as he scoots back and you stop the car alarm. Andy stands up and runs over to you. Taking your arm, he drags you both to the alley way. You knew you drew in more of those things by the loud alarm sound.

Andy limping on his foot, he manages to get you guys back home without another scratch. His foot had been aching and you didn’t let him sit down once you got to the porch. You instantly brought him into a hug, letting out a huff of relief. His arm wraps around you securely as he grins softly. 

You pull away and cup his cheek, eyes of worry. He nods with a soft grin. I’m okay. His hand comes up to your cheek, brushing the tear away from yours. 

We’re okay.

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[jaskiersvalley]

3 Witchers Who Made It Home And 1 Who Almost Didn’t

The first to return was always Vesemir. He got back as early as his Path would allow, horse pulling a cart of supplies. The others would bring things to weather the winter too but Vesemir tried to take care of the bulk of it. Kaer Morhen was somewhere that hadn’t been home for a long time, perhaps even the first century of his life. But over time, he’d grown fond of it. While everything else in the world changed, turned its back on him, the crumbling old castle always welcomed Vesemir back. The doors groaned their greeting, sheets sighed as he pulled them off beds. In its own way, Kaer Morhen came back to life under Vesemir’s gentle care so by the time his pups stumbled in, they would be comfortable and could fall into the routine of winter without having to worry about much. That was Vesemir’s job, he always worried about his pups though he rarely ever showed it.

Uncharacteristically, Geralt showed up next. Usually he slunk in last, quiet and avoiding any kind of attention. He really was the epitome of lone wolf. Which was why Vesemir needed a moment to gather his wits and greet the bard Geralt had dragged him with him. The path to Kaer Morhen was dangerous and Geralt had wanted to avoid the snow that would have made it more trecherous for a human. So they were there earlier than usual, Roach pulling a cart of ample supplies. If both Lambert and Eskel showed up with very little, they would still have a very well stocked winter.

A few weeks later, the snow was gathering around the old keep and Lambert arrived. He had a pack piled high on his back but no horse. For whatever reason, he’d always been resistant to getting a steed, something that he was mercilessly teased for in his early years. By the time he hit 60, most of that had stopped thankfully. It wasn’t Vesemir’s secret to share that Lambert was utterly terrified of horses. They’d tried to secretly work through it but some fears, irrational as they may be, just never went away. The only thing Vesemir could do was make sure Lambert never had chores in the stables and glared at the other two whenever they started ribbing about horses.

The storms arrived next, blustery and cold. It made the pass impossible to traverse and Vesemir sighed. While winter had come early, he had been hoping Eskel would make it back home. It was rare to have a year without him. But with how visibility was barely a hand’s reach, it was impossible for even a witcher to survive the trail to Kaer Morhen.

“What’s that noise?” Jaskier asked. He wasn’t quite used to the noises of the old castle as it creaked and groaned under the assault of the storm. Dinner had been a quiet affair, all of the witchers quietly glad they’d made it back home, even if one of their core family was missing. Eskel’s regular seat remained unfilled even though it left an awkward gap in their seating arrangement.

Before his question could be dismissed as the howling of the storm, Lambert tilted his head to the side, listening, eyes going distant as he focused. The next moment he was pushing away from the table with a half shout of “Eskel!” which had the others lurching into action.

It was dark already, a cast of igni to torches lit the way to the front of the keep. As the approached, there was no denying that something was very wrong. The whinnying of a spooked horse mixed with the thumping as it ran loops of the area in front of the keep’s door filtered through. Lambert was dashing out into the snowstorm without hesitation, squinting into the thickly falling snow. The job of stopping Scorpion fell to Geralt and he managed to grab the loose reins, pulling the horse tight and soothing it.

“Eskel!” Lambert’s voice was whipped away by the wind. There was no sign of Eskel though, his horse still had the cart attached, most of the supplies were battened down and safe. “I’m going out to find him.”

“You won’t survive the night,” Vesemir shouted over the storm.

“Neither will he!” Lambert looked frantic, trying to see beyond the storm.

“Losing one son is bad enough, I don’t want to lose two.” It wasn’t often Vesemir snapped and it pulled Lambert up short.

“Fine.” He snarled and, after a final attempt to look around and listening in case Eskel called back to him, he stalked back into the castle. “But I’m going out for him at first light.”

Nobody slept well that night. The storm raged outside and all they could think of was Eskel out there, on his own. There was no telling what had happened, what had spooked Scorpion or what they’d find in the light of the morning. Unable to sleep, Jaskier stumbled down to the kitchen for a drink. He walked past Lambert who was sleeping fitfully by the dying embers of the hall’s fires, obviously wanting to make good on his promise to go out at first light. Out of curiosity, Jaskier opened the front door and peered out, just in case he saw something. It was still too dark to venture far out but it was no longer pitch black. Not too far from the door, maybe a handful of meters away was a lump on the ground which most definitely hadn’t been there the night before.

“Lambert! Geralt! Help!” Jaskier was yelling even as he ran out into the snow barefoot. There was no mistaking the snow covered mound for anything but the crumpled form of Eskel.

Skidding to his knees next to him, Jaskier reached for Eskel, shoved hard to turn him onto his side and then to his back. In a way, he wished he hadn’t because the problems were almost immediately visible. There were torn and soaked bandages wrapped sloppily around Eskel’s chest and stomach, soaked through with blood. His gambeson was in tatters.

Someone was pushing Jaskier out of the way and it took him a moment to realise it was Lambert. Leaning over Eskel, taking in blue lips and barely visible puffs of shallow breaths, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that there wasn’t any time to waste. Strong arms hoisted Eskel off the ground and Lambert was barging back into the castle, hollering for Vesemir at the top of his lungs.

A warm hand on Jaskier’s shoulder drew him from his reverie. By his knees, the snow was red with blood and he could see a trail where Eskel had obviously dragged himself. He’d been so close and yet had almost not made it despite his efforts.

“Let’s get you warm,” Geralt murmured and helped Jaskier up.

Settling on the rugs by the fire, Jaskier watched as Geralt stoked the flames and brought mulled wine over. They didn’t say anything, not for a few hours but they leaned into each other. Geralt was hoping he wasn’t going to lose his brother while Jaskier realised he didn’t want to mourn a friend he had not yet met.

It was Vesemir who came out, hours later, drawn and haggard. He was still in his sleep shirt but there hadn’t been time to get changed, not when Eskel had been in such critical condition.

“He’ll live.” That was the best news he could have ever delivered and both Geralt and Jaskier sagged. “Lambert’s keeping him warm for now. But I think Eskel would appreciate waking in a warm pile.”

That was all the encouragement needed and Geralt was off, pulling Jaskier with him. In the infirmary, Lambert was curled against Eskel under some covers, the fire roaring warmly. Without a word, Geralt slipped under the covers too, mindful of the freshly applied bandages. Under the scent of cleansing poultices there was the rotten stench of infection but it was clearing. He dreaded to think what had happened to Eskel and why he had braved the trail to Kaer Morhen when injured and snowing. Though, deep down, Geralt already knew because he would have done the same. Hurting and desperate, he too would have wanted to get home, no matter the risk. Turning, he pulled Jaskier into the pile, content to once again have his family surrounding him. 

[bffsoobin]

Windflower

01|02|03|04|05|06

↳ after a heartbreak you find yourself in a small town looking for purpose. you find employment with Choi Soobin and his impressive ancestral home. when you start to fall in love again, there’s no way for you to predict what you find in the depths of the home and Soobin’s mind.

➤ hanahaki au, angst, slight fluff, dark themes

Word Count:6,881

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of sickness and feeling generally unwell, mentions of doctors/medical treatments, deception, descriptions of anxiety/panic, horror, pain, major character death, general dark themes! Please proceed with caution if you’re sensitive! (also I did not proof read)

A/N:excuse my language; but holy fuck. I cannot believe this is the end of Windflower. This is insane. Windflower is my passion project, and the desire to write it is half the reason I opened my account on here. While it hasn’t been the most popular writing on my blog, I have been really really proud of it. Thank you to everyone who has been reading and supporting this since the beginning! I love you all!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Soobin sat with his head dipped toward the dark wooden dining table. He was scrolling through what appeared to be a website for a plant nursery; as if he needed more within the home. You were sitting opposite of him, peeking over the top of your laptop where you were pretending to read an article on the ten best shows coming to Netflix this fall. Following the night of your drunken rage, the two of you had patched up your relationship as well as you possibly could. You’d traded apologies, talked it out over a store-bought cheesecake and moved on. 

At least, you assumed he had. He acted as if you hadn’t accused him of being some type of fraud and proclaimed that you could no longer trust him. Everything was eerily the same, despite Soobin’s increased caution around you in certain settings. Gone were the days of him laying a hand on your back as you cooked or resting his head on your shoulder while you both dozed off on the couch. 

You should have been grateful for his physical distance. Happy that he was giving you the room you had hinted at needing on that night a few weeks ago. Instead you were annoyed. Frustrated at the way you craved to feel his comforting touch even though you knew it would only bring you more pain in the end. For a while, you worried that his avoidance meant he had seen the evidence of your stupidity floating within the toilet bowl, but you knew Soobin well enough to know that he would have talked to you about it. Right? He would have brought it up; although slowly and with extreme caution, and asked you what he could do to help. He had proven himself to be mature and thoughtful, even after you’d tried to push him away. 

He finally stirred in his seat across the table. You could actually hear a few of his bones crack with the movement and you stifled a laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” He tried to sound intimidating, but his voice was so inherently soft around the edges that you couldn’t hold back the laugh. 

“You’re just an old man,” you were poking at him, you knew, but it felt good. You felt normal. Almost like you were back to the time when the two of you were truly just friends. He planted both of his large, vascular hands flat on the table and leaned his weight forward. 

“I’m an old man? You do know we’re the same age, Y/N. So if I’m so old...” he paused for dramatic affect as you stared up at him in amused awe. “Then you must be ancient.”

An offended gasp, obviously feigned, slipped between your lips; which you now noticed you’d chewed raw as you were thinking earlier. 

“How dare you? I am the epitome of youth! My hair is flowing, my skin is flawless,” you pointed to a blemish on your chin you knew for a fact you’d had for days. “My youthful beauty is unmatched, can’t you tell?” You weren’t sure where your sudden good mood had come from but you basked in it. Even as Soobin used his hands as leverage to lean closer to your face, you didn’t budge. You couldn’t. This close up, you could spot every single little freckle on his face. The dynamic shades of his irises became more and more distinct until he finally stopped advancing toward you. It was easily the closest the two of you had been in weeks. 

“Hm, you’re right. I can tell. There’s something about you...” he squinted his eyes as if he were scrutinizing your every feature. “You are beautiful, Y/N.” 

The sentence brought an unwanted visceral reaction through your body. It was too much like a confession, too close to the exact words you needed to hear from him. A shooting pain rippled through your heart. You shuddered out an exhale, shutting your eyes tight as if that would stave away the pain. In a blind panic, you pushed away from the solid table and made to put as much distance between yourself and Soobin as possible. Then your migraine hit, the feeling like someone had stuck a red hot iron rod behind both of your eyes. Fuck. On top of that pain, a cough worked its way up your throat, producing a petal into your mouth that was slimy and bitter.

You only made it two and a half steps before your knees gave out, sending you hurtling toward the floor in a free fall. Sticking your hands out just before the impact, you accepted the fact that you were about to get a concussion out of your own inability to properly distance yourself from an unrequited love. But the sensitive skin of your face never bounced off of the original hardwood flooring you had once drooled over. 

“Y/N?” Soobin was panicked, stooped down  next to you as he had managed to barely break your fall and turn you around to lay on your back. Your vision was still swimming, but you cracked open your eyes very slowly. 

‘What’s wrong? Do you need to go to a doctor?” 

“No,” you croaked out, “was just a migraine.” Soobin scoffed. 

“I’ve never seen anyone nearly pass out from just a migraine, Y/N. And in all the months I’ve known you, you’ve never-”

“I’m fine.” You asserted, sitting up as well as you could with his arms wrapped protectively around your shoulders. “They used to happen the last time I- uh, when I was in college. It’s okay, they’ll pass.” You were lying right through your teeth. The last time you had a migraine this badly, your then roommate had rushed you to the emergency room and discovered that you had hanahaki. There was no doubt that history was repeating itself. 

 “Okay.” He was frowning, obviously unconvinced as he pushed a hand against your lower back. “At least let me help you upstairs.” 

----

The migraine either dissipates or you simply become accustomed to it. The petal you had coughed into a tissue when you first reached your room had dried, sitting on your bedside table in its perfect little form to mock you. You were so disgusted that you couldn’t even bring yourself to throw it away. No longer sensitive to light, you shrugged out from underneath your sheets and stretched your limbs until they cracked. A dull thumping was still present at the base of your skull; a reminder of what you’d just suffered. A sickly feeling of anxiety passed through you like a breeze, making the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention. Soobin was clearly not convinced by your insistence that your sudden ailment was nothing of concern. And he was right. In all the time you’d been around him, you never once experienced a spell quite like that, so how was he supposed to not be suspicious?

Although, you had to hold onto hope that he truly didn’t know any better. It seemed as though he was blissfully ignorant to the truth behind your sickness, and you’d like to keep it that way. For as long as you possibly could, anyway. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you were pacing across the floor until you landed your weight onto a particularly squeaky board that sounded ridiculous in the otherwise quiet room. Freezing on the spot, you held your breath for some reason you truly couldn’t explain. Of course, there was no logical reason to do so, and the action only resulted in your lungs contracting violently. Your upper body shuddered as you opened your mouth instantly. Holding your breath for just a few seconds should have been a simple task, but to your weakened heart and lungs it felt like running a whole marathon uphill. 

Buckling over, you heaved in mouthfuls of oxygen until your heart rate dropped back down to a normal rate. Add shortness of breath to your growing list of signs that should send you running for the nearest clinic. If you weren’t so foolishly attached to the man who was probably worrying about you downstairs, you would have already been booking yourself an appointment. 

It just seemed totally inconceivable, even in your predicament, to leave Soobin behind within his ancestral house that surely felt horridly empty being lived in alone. You would sooner walk over lava barefoot than put him through that. It was stupid. So incredibly stupid, but you were literally willing to put your life on the line just to look after Soobin. He had really weaseled himself deep into your psyche. But you knew you were to blame for holding the door wide open. He had done so much for you, surely you could do him to kindness of sticking around as long as you possibly could.

So you trudged down the steps like you did every day, expecting to come face to face with an overly worried and doting young man standing in the kitchen or living room awaiting your arrival. But the lower level of the house was oddly silent when you descended the steps. The low hum of the washer and dryer running were the only indications that someone beside yourself was even there. Curiosity spiking, you made your way to the vacant living room to peer out of the windows. It was a bit hard to see him from this angle, but you spotted Soobin lounging on the back deck, skin browning in the sun and eyes closed in content. His arms were tucked behind his head, effectively lengthening his torso and giving you a full view of the sliver of skin that was peeking out between the top of his waistband and the bottom of the white cotton t-shirt  You noticed that he was once again wearing the outfit he was donning when you first arrived at the front gate weeks ago. Although the outfit was simple and generally unremarkable, you would never forget the way your heart lurched at the sight of his lithe body the first time. The warm pull of nostalgia nagged at the back of your mind, so you selfishly let yourself sink into its embrace and recall the trepidation you had once approached the grounds with. 

Soobin had charmed you so easily with his windswept hair and boyish charm that it was a shock you didn’t begin to grow flowers for him the first time you met. To be fair, the version of you who had rolled into town almost two months prior was much more cautious than the version you were now familiar with. Part of you missed that version of you; who was simply drifting through life, unattached to anyone and looking for a new spot to plant her roots. But you knew you weren’t built to live like that, as your attachment to Soobin had proven wholeheartedly. 

Suddenly, you felt a lurching in your chest that didn’t necessarily hurt you; but urged you to go outside and talk to Soobin. A subconscious pull that reminded you that your body craved his attention just as much as your mind did. The weather was beautiful today, a pleasant temperature that made your skin feel like it was glowing as soon as you were under the sun. As soon as you stepped onto the porch, Soobin whipped his head around in your direction. Cutely, he scrambled to sit up, hair frizzy from the static of the Adirondack chair he had been lounging on. 

“Are you feeling better?” A warm hand encased the left side of your face, Soobin’s sloped nose just inches away from yours as his speckled eyes studied every single pore and line on your face. 

“Uh- I’m-” his proximity was making your jittery, heart rate spiking as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I feel better. The migraine is gone.” You ignored the way the same dull ache from earlier was beginning to seep into the edges of your brain. 

“Oh, good!” A rush of his breath blew over your sensitive skin, sending your eyelids into a flutter. When he removed his hand, you felt oddly cold and empty despite the heat of the atmosphere. “Look, I don’t want you to do any work around the house until you’re feeling better. And I can call my doctor to get you in for a-”

“No!” The word jumped off of your tongue before you could reign it in; rudely cutting Soobin off as his eyes widened in shock. He shifted his weight as his eyebrows knit together in worry. You licked your lips- suddenly dry- and tried to collect the thoughts that were running laps in your mind. How could you possibly explain that going to the doctor would be a grave mistake and mark the end of your companionship. 

“You don’t want to go to the doctor? I promise he’s really nice, Y/N, and he can get you medicine for your migraines.” His perfect lips were pulled into a worried pout, a thin sheen of sweat glazing his skin only exemplifying his perfect complexion. 

“No, it’s just that...when I had them before they ran a bunch of tests,” you were hedging the truth and you knew it, but hopefully Soobin couldn’t tell the difference, “and there was nothing they could give me to help them. So a doctor would just be, ya know, a waste of time.” The skin on the back of your neck was heated in worry as you shot Soobin what you hoped was a convincing grin. 

“Okay.” He was still frowning but he seemed to believe you. “Just please let me know if you want to go. I don’t want you to be miserable. And you’re still not doing any yard work,” he grasped your bicep and led you over to the chair he had just been lying in. His grip was strong as he gave you no choice but to sit down and relax. The plastic was heated from the sunshine and the heat of his body as you settled in and looked up at him, blinking slowly. 

“I’m not gonna break, Soobin. I can handle watering the plants and doing some cleaning inside. You are not going to wait on me hand and foot.” You put some fire in your tone, hoping to edge away the anxiety you were feeling creep up the back of your throat. Having the exact person who sent your body on a fight against itself watching over you like a mother cat watches its kittens would surely put you six feet under. 

Soobin’s eyes steeled as he crossed his arms over his broad, defined chest. “No, Y/N. I am going to wait on you, because you’ve spent so much time waiting on me, and you deserve to have someone take care of you. Please let me take care of you, bub.” You were speechless at the strength of his voice coupled with the nickname he had only used in a teasing manner prior to this moment. The longer you stared at the toned muscle of his arms crossed over the widest part of his torso, the more your throat began to tickle with the insistence of soft, red petals that were looking for an escape. Panicked, you looked away quickly, coughing as softly as you can to hopefully pass the action off as simply swallowing down the wrong pipe. Just when you think the moment has passed, an unwavering push at the back of your throat had you involuntarily gagging. Soobin sprung into action, patting a large hand between your shoulder blades as if he were burping an infant. He was calling your name, pulling some strands of your hair away from your face in a bid to get your attention; but you ignored him. Your stomach rolled, the pressure in your lungs and heart only increasing at his touch that you tried to shrug off. 

Eventually the muscles of your esophagus stopped constricting and fresh oxygen could flow back into your crowded lungs. Hot tears slipped down your cheeks and you wiped at them in embarrassment, hiding your face from Soobin’s intensified gaze. You could only imagine what he was thinking right now; as you’d just went from insisting you had no need for a doctor to dry heaving over the side of his deck furniture. The thought had you shrinking into yourself even more. He was going to catch on eventually, wasn’t he? Fuck. You couldn’t avoid this much longer. The evidence of your disease was only mounting and Soobin was more observant than ever before. 

“Y/N.” The call of your name brought you, slowly, out of your own mind. “Look at me.” The words could not have been any clearer, yet you shook your head like a petulant child. He sighed. “Please, I’m worried about you. Please let me take care of you. I can’t,” he stopped and you could hear him swallow clearly. Was that a sniffle? Your heart clenched in response. “I can’t sit here and watch you hurt.” 

Still ashamed, you raised your head from your hands and stared out over the yard instead of facing him. You didn’t think your stuttering heart would survive seeing his expression in this supercharged moment. You’d sooner drop dead than see Soobin crying over you.

“Okay,” you acquiesced, mind already running in the direction of a backup plan, “I’m sorry, Soobin. You’re right. I do need you to look after me. Just please.” you swallowed, tasting the oddly earthy tang of flower petals on your tongue. “No doctors. You have to promise me.” Finally turning your body to face his, your earlier suspicions were confirmed. 

Your heart constricted painfully at the sight of him, eyes rimmed red and watery with unshed tears and a line of worry creasing the soft skin of his forehead harshly. “Fine.” He huffed, clearly displeased with your stipulation but willing to make the sacrifice. 

“Thank you,” the words were whispered, caught in a sudden gust of wind, but he heard them nonetheless and sent you a small nod. 

“Of course.”

----

Soft sunlight filtered through the flowy white curtains hanging over the windows of the library. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t spent much time in this little haven since you moved in. Soobin’s cousin had filled it with plush armchairs laden with soft fleece blankets and the most comfortable throw pillows you’d ever felt. The books were certainly outdated, but you found some classics that satisfied the itch for escape you had begun to cultivate. Currently, you were flipping through a vintage illustrated coffee table book- the front page tells you it was made in 1962- that gave diagrams and names of all types of flowers. You shouldn’t have been surprised to find this type of literature here, as Soobin himself had admitted to learning the meanings of flowers in his free time. 

The pages were delicate, so you flipped them carefully, fingers tracing over the edges that felt like they might melt between the oil of your skin. As you turned onto a new page a brightly colored sticky note, not unlike the ones you used to mark up textbooks, drew your attention toward the flower it was attached to. You recognized the flower as jasmine immediately, familiar with the patch of it that weaved among its neighbors in the garden. Brushing the sticky note aside, you read the delicate cursive underneath it: eternal and unconditional love. Cute. The image of a younger Soobin thumbing through the book, tongue pushed out in concentration as he researched warmed your heart. 

A tremor of weakness passed through your arm, making your hand shake. A feeling of dread- which you desperately tried to push down- reminded you of just how much worse your condition had become. You had noticed it lately, the way you felt much more faint than normal, how much more often you had to take a moment to catch your breath, the way your whole body would shake when you cough up a mix of blood and petals into the sink. 

But for now, you chose to lose yourself in this book and the newfound hunt for Soobin’s sticky notes of interest. You had to skip a few pages before you found the next ones; two bundled together in the upper left corner of the page marked off forget-me-nots and begonias. Gently lifting the sticky notes revealed the meanings behind these flowers, also featured in the backyard, to be true love and deep compassion and communication or connection, respectively. Curiosity mounting, you continued to flip through the weighty book. At first, you began to think that maybe the three notes you’d already found were all that lived within the forgotten book. As you neared the end, your eyes caught on two more, this time on opposite ends of the page. One partially covered an illustration of a snapdragon, the other highlighting the small flowers of a buttercup. Your nails caught on the edge of the blue paper as you lifted it. Buttercups: neatness and innocence. The definition made sense, calling back to memory the way your former best friend had coughed up a handful of the pale yellow flowers when you were just children. She was easily the most pure and innocent person you’d ever met, and given the matching nature of the boy who’d also been secretly pining over her; you couldn’t think of a more perfect example of the type of flower representing the relationship. 

You wondered if Soobin had chosen and planted these flowers with the image of the relationships they’re indicative of in mind. The snapdragon’s description was totally covered by the sticky note; so you nearly had to pry the whole thing off before you could see the cursive. Deception. The word stared back at you. It seemed very out of place among the other markings that Soobin had made. You knew for a fact that a tall, thick patch of snapdragons were growing proudly in the garden, among all the other flowers with soft, beautiful meanings. Interesting. You would consider the fact that Soobin was only drawn to their aesthetics, but the way the drawing was marked with the same enthusiasm as the others was certainly curious. 

You decided that you were thinking way too far into this. For all you knew, the snapdragons were simply planted by someone in his family and he had gone looking for their meaning. Nearing the end of the book, you were simply skimming over the book. Your eyes were starting to get tired, fatigue dancing under your skin as you considered taking a nap right there. On the final, yellowed page of the flower identification book, you spotted something alarmingly familiar. A red flower whose petals fade into a pure white near the stem. The exact same petals that had been crawling up your throat and ruining the little bit of safety you’d found within Soobin’s home. 

Suddenly on high alert, you sat up straight, eyes watering as you finally focused enough to comprehend the definition. The red windflower. Death and forsaken love. Your throat went completely dry, heart dropping down to your stomach. The petals pushed against the soft flesh of the inside of your throat, scratching at the back of your tongue as a harsh reinforcement of what you were reading. Death? Surely you had joked with yourself that you felt as if you were dying, but was that not just because you hadn’t seen a doctor? 

A new gagging cough slipped past your lips, consuming your senses totally as you focused on not spewing a mix of blood, spit and flower petals onto the surely expensive leather chair. Finally, you collapsed back in the chair, chest heaving, book laid open on your lap. Fresh tears brimmed your eyes. You needed to leave. As much as you desired to stay around Soobin and bask in his company, you were becoming increasingly worried for your life. You had to find a way to get him out of the house long enough for you to pack up the essentials and flee the house. It would hurt. It would hurt so bad, but nothing could be worse than the message of doom that your body was giving you. Loving Soobin would literally put you in an early grave. 

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Soobin’s voice came cautiously from somewhere behind you and you jumped, clasping the book shut quickly. 

“I’m-” you tried, voice too wrecked from coughing to continue. You cleared your throat, ignoring the painful pinch that created and tried again. “I’m okay. But I was wondering if you’d do me a favor?” Thinking on your feet had your head spinning, and you hoped he couldn’t sense the waver in your voice as you spoke. 

He approached slowly, sitting himself on an armchair opposite of you. The knees of his jeans were stained brown with dirt, a sight not uncommon after his time in the garden. He pushed a hand through his mussed up hair. It was a nervous tick, you knew, and you felt awful for worrying him. Maybe it was better if you left after all. 

“Could you go out to Hank’s and get me a Smore’s sundae? I would drive myself but...” a vague gesture over your generally unwell body made the point clear. “I know it’s pretty far out of town but I’ve been craving one since the first time we went.” 

“Of course. I’m done outside, I can go. Are you sure you’ll be okay alone? I’ll be out for probably like 40 minutes to get all the way there and back.”

“Yes, Soobin. I can still handle myself alone. I’m not that sick.” The irony of the statement was not lost on you, but it seemed to have placated him enough for him to slip on his shoes and leave the house. As soon as he was gone, you threw yourself off of the chair. Your heart rate had been in a constant state of increase for weeks, but you just had to just push through it for now. 

In a flurry of packing that was all too familiar to the way you left your college apartment,  you began to gather your things. You felt a twinge of guilt for leaving behind some of your things for Soobin to contend with, but you had to push it aside in favor of working quickly. All of your personal items, chargers, enough clothing for two weeks, toiletries and any money you’d brought along with you were stuffed into your trusty tote bag. You took one last sweeping look around the room, anxiety licking at the back of your neck as you feared you were running out of time. Many of your dressers were still full and you had left the bed a mess but your most important items were tucked underneath your arm securely; and that was enough for you. 

As you descended the stairs, you tried to ignore the way you wobbled dangerously down them until you finally got to the bottom level of the house. A bittersweet feeling rose in your chest as you surveyed the kitchen where you’d cooked and baked so many times. The living room beckoned you with similar memories of taking naps in the sunshine and watching your favorite films. A stray tear you didn’t know was welling up made a hot streak down your face before dripping off of your skin. No matter how much it hurt, you had to keep moving. The floor creaked familiarly under your feet as you approached the front door. The handle was cold under your fingers as you twisted, but the satisfying creak and rush of fresh air that you were expecting never came. You tried again, but the door didn’t budge. Locked. Okay, that made sense. Neither of you really used the front door, so of course it was locked up. Leaning down to inspect the doorknob, you realized that the age of the home meant that you would need a skeleton key to slip into the door and crack it open. 

Slightly annoyed, you took a deep, steadying breath and headed for the backdoor. You would have to walk further to get to your car; but the back door should be unlocked, considering Soobin had just left out of it. With more fervor, you gripped the door knob and twisted, just to be met with the same resistance the front door gave. A flash of hot panic consumed you as you jiggled the handle again, just in case it would make any difference. Soobin must have locked it out of habit when he left, and you knew for a fact that he had the only key-as far as you knew- with him out at Hank’s. Blindly, you grabbed for your cellphone before realizing how useless that would truly be. No one knew you were here. You didn’t have any other friends in town, and it’s not like you could call the police to come help you without Soobin finding out. Sweaty palms made your phone nearly slip from your grip as your mind worked in overdrive. 

“Okay.” you whispered to yourself, “where would he keep spare keys?” Rifling through a mental list of all the nooks and crannies of the home, a sudden realization hit you. That room upstairs where you had hit your head! That would explain why the room seemed oddly clean, and it was feasible to believe that what you mistook for an AC unit was actually a safe of some kind. Back up the steps you went, heart thumping in a rhythm that was surely unhealthy for someone as young as yourself. 

When you finally got to the room, you found the mismatched furniture exactly where you left it. Soobin had clearly made no effort to move back the dresser or the table that you’d begun to slide out of the way; only making your mission so much easier. 

For the first time today, you had luck when you pulled at the handle of something. Up close, you seemed to be clearly looking at some kind of built in storage compartment, made of a light metal and easily accessed by a small pull lever. Your fingers slipped as you swung the door open, excitement rising at the prospect of being correct about the keeping place of the keys. 

As fast as the excitement and relief had risen, they were quelled and buried deep underneath a wash of confusion. Within the confines of the compartment, you were faced with... flowers. In the middle, acting as some sort of centerpiece, was a pressed snapdragon stem. An entire cluster of flowers, attached firmly to a greened stem was propped up on a small stand; shrink wrapped in protective plastic. Something about the sight was oddly familiar. The stem was cut so perfectly across, completely unlike the way a garden sheer or someone breaking off the plant would present. A memory surfaced to the top of your mind, recalling the first time you’d had your flowers removed. It was cut in the exact same manner; with the precision only a surgical tool could make. Although you’d tried to bury the whole process in a dusty corner of your mind, you did remember your doctor offering the option to take the removed flower home. It had appalled and confused you, but it was clear that that was the source of this exact flower. 

“What the fuck?” you whispered, catching sight of an almost unrecognizable sharpie scribbled on the corner. CS. Initials? Oh god. CS. Choi Soobin. Your hand recoiled as if you’d been burned, the feeling of bile raising toward your tongue. He had told you that he never grew flowers, so what the hell was this? Why would he keep this a secret? Hurt and panic joined hands and wreaked havoc on your nervous system. You could barely think straight. Was this his...trophy case? 

When you shifted on your feet, you spotted a small envelope resting behind the stand. A sick feeling of curiosity had you reaching for it. At this point, you had no idea what to expect as your fingers stick to the material thanks to the sweat permeating your body. It takes a few tries, but once you finally get the envelope slipped open, you can’t tell what you’re looking at. The lighting was too awkward, so you dumped the contents out onto the surface of the compartment. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see; but it certainly wasn’t this. Dozens of flower petals, dried and shrink wrapped in the same fashion as the haunting centerpiece spilled out in front of you. The smooth metal surface sent them all skidding, so it took you a second to get the whole picture. The first one to catch your eye was a white, pointed petal that you could easily identify as jasmine with the same handwritten pair of letters on one corner. YJ. Another protected petal, this one the tell tale purple-blue of a forget me not bore the letters SA. In fact, you could match every single one of these petals to a flower you had been fawning over in the garden since your arrival. 

One that had scattered toward the back of the case seemed to compel you even though you couldn’t quite see it. You reached for it blindly, bringing a few, clearly much older flowers forward with it. Sifting through them only struck more and more fear into you. Every instinct you had was telling you to run, scream, pound on a window until you could bust out. Soobin was clearly not all he had claimed to be. But a dark, twisted side of yourself you didn’t know existed wanted to sift through all of the petals and match them up with the garden you’d cared for. Resting at the bottom of the pile in your hand, you finally came across the petal you’d initially reached for. 

It was about the size of a penny; red, fading into a simple white at the bottom. This was it. This was the exact petal that you’d spit out onto your bedside table after your first awful migraine. Now that you thought about it, you never did throw it out. You were too disgusted to even face the flora that haunted you. 

Your heart stopped. The sharpie on this flower was smudged, as if he had been in too much of a hurry to let it dry. Your initials were there, clear as day. He had collected your flower for his sick collection. He had collected...you. 

The little happy world you had built yourself came crashing down like a ton of bricks. If he had done this to you, then surely all of these other petals came from others who had come to work and live with him. You recalled an early discussion about family tradition as you thumbed over a group of much more withered looking flowers. 

This was the family tradition. 

Alarms blared in your mind. Get out, your mind urged faster than your feet could move. Tripping over yourself, you hoped that Soobin wasn’t home yet, as you had no idea how to get out of the home. Your feet pounded noisily on the hardwood but that was the very least of your worries. Skidding into the kitchen, your blood ran cold.

Soobin. 

“Hey,” his voice was smooth, unwavering as he leaned against the sink nursing a bottle of water. On the island there was a brown paper bag with Hank’s logo printed on the front. “There’s your ice cream.” 

You didn’t know what to do. Clearly, you had been caught red handed with a tote bag in hand and anxious sweat rolling down your face. 

“Oh, uh. Thanks.” The room sat creepily still as Soobin’s eyes, devoid of any clear emotion, roved over you. He quirked an eyebrow as he pushed himself off of the counter. You couldn’t move, even as he stalked closer. 

“What happened to you resting? You’re sick.” He had asked a question but it seemed clear we really wasn’t looking for an answer. 

“I just-” your words turned into a gasp as Soobin gripped your shoulder so hard that it hurt. Gone were the usually careful caresses of his fingers as he pushed you backwards. With your body already weak it only took one wrong step for you to be sent flying toward the floor. On instinct, you tried to grab onto Soobin’s solid body for support, but he stepped back and watched you fall, bouncing the back of your head off of the floor hard enough to go limp. Consciousness came and went as you struggled to do anything in the name of self defense. Your lungs and heart were too compromised to acquire and pump the nutrients your body needed. Soobin crouched over you, studying you with a passive look on his face. 

“Ya know,” he sighed, pulling the tote bag away from your body. “I really did like you. I hoped to have spent some more time with you, but you’re just,” he clicked his tongue, grabbing you firmly by the ankles and giving an experimental tug. You slid along the floor easily. “So. Nosy. Too nosy for your own good.” 

“Soobin, you’re not- this isn’t-” a dark chuckle passed between his lips. The ones you once dreamed of. 

“You don’t know me. This is exactly who I am, Y/N. This is who my whole family is.” He dropped your ankles harshly, secure in the fact that you were too weak to get up. A shroud of darkness filled your head as you grayed out from the panic. When you awoke again, it was to the sound of birds chirping. It hurt to open your eyes but you did it anyway, spotting Soobin just above you, wielding a shovel. 

He smiled down at you, deceivingly handsome, as he stuck the shovel into the pliant ground just to your side. Looking to your left, you spotted a freshly dug shallow grave and your blood ran cold at the recognition that he must have been digging this earlier in the day when you were reading. 

“Please, don’t do this.” you begged with the last of your energy. “Soobin, please. I- I love you.” Desperation had you spitting out your deepest secrets in a bid to catch his attention and change his behavior. 

“Awe,” he crooned, grabbing onto your wrists with a grip that would certainly bruise your delicate skin. “I know.” One sharp movement had you landing on your back in the dirt, several feet below ground level. The impact pushed all the air out of your compromised lungs and you didn’t even have the semblance to lift your head and scream to anyone listening. Soobin stood above you, blocking the sun from your view as he dropped something onto you. It took you a few moments, but you soon realized he had dropped a handful of red windflower petals and seeds onto your front. You shuddered. This is surely what had happened to all the other people who carried the flowers you’d found. This was how Soobin kept his beautiful garden. Sacrifice. 

Wordlessly, he piled shovel fulls of dirt on top of your body. With your eyes slipping shut, all you could do was feel the weight of being buried alive consume you. 

----

Soobin hated the winter. It was too long, too cold, too boring. He usually spent the whole time holed up in his home, dreaming of the day the weather warms. 

Finally, finally, after months of waiting the time had come. An early summer breeze pushed his hair out of his face. This season he had decided to go for a purple color that seemed to suit his complexion well. Sitting on his favorite deck chair, he gazed out at the beginnings of his blooming garden. All of the usuals had cropped up, but it was with great pride and delight that Soobin regarded the patch of red windflowers that had begun to grow. For their first season, they were going strong, covering almost the entire plot of land he had allowed them. For a while, he had been worried that the new plants wouldn’t perform well, since he’d never dealt with them before. But he was quite proud. 

As he sipped from a frosty glass of lemonade, he heard the distant crunch of his driveway gravel. It had been almost a year since the last time he heard it, but his heart jumped in excitement. Stretching his limbs, he began a lazy meander toward the front gate; already making out the slight static of the speaker as someone spoke into it, introducing themselves and asking if they were in the right place. Clearing his throat, he rounds to corner to the great iron gate surrounded by his guarding trees and glances back at his garden. Then he advanced, opening the gate as he came and beckoning his new guest inside the boundaries of his property.

“Hi! I’m Soobin. This house belonged to my great-great-uncle and his wife. Well, wives.”

tag list: @unlocktxt @magicisland9-34 @givethnofucketh @yeonjjuniverse​ 

[ruzek-halstead]

bundled up

pairing: jay halstead x hailey upton

during one of chicago's coldest winter nights, the power and heat in hailey's building is out. jay humbly offers his apartment - until his power goes out as well.

“get your ass back in this bed because you are not sleeping on the couch.”

masterlist || ao3

warnings: swearing, fluffery

considering both jay and hailey were both born and raised in chicago, they were no strangers to the cold winters. however, it did not make them any less bearable.

today happened to be a chilly friday, where temperatures plummeted down to the negative forties with the windchill. the power was out in many parts of the city and a number of chicagoans were stranded without heat and water. it’s ugly out there, but the districts have all pooled together to help whoever they could. with the help of the fire department, they made it through the worst.

or so hailey thinks.

she groans as she checks her phone. it is a little past nine at night and the unit had a hell of a day hitting the streets. all hailey wants to do is crack open a bottle of wine, take a nice hot bath and go to bed early. instead, she receives a text from her landlord informing her that the power is out in their neighbourhood and there is currently no heat.

hailey’s head hits the wood of her desk just thinking about the icebox that is currently her apartment.

jay peaks his eyes over his computer monitor upon hearing her distressed sounds. “you good?” he asks with a hint of amusement.

the rest of the team had already left for the night, after jay and hailey lost a bet earlier that day. both partners didn’t believe the power would go out because of the cold and the rest of their team bet them a week’s worth of paperwork. needless to say, Jay and hailey lost, and they are prepared for quite a few late nights in the near future.

“apparently my power is out and so is my heat,” she replies, paperwork completely forgotten. “do i even have enough blankets to survive the night?” she adds dramatically. “oh my god, i’m going to have to put on every article of clothing i own.”

on that note, jay checks his phone to make sure his apartment was still intact. “hey, don’t worry about it,” he tells her comfortingly; her eyes flit up to meet his. “you can come home with me tonight.”

“oh no, no,” hailey shakes her head, “that’s alright.”

jay furrows his brows. “you literally just implied you’ll freeze if you go back home.”

“i was being dramatic,” she waves him off, “i'll be fine. thanks for the offer though, i appreciate it.”

jay checks his phone again; it’s nine-thirty and no new messages. “alright, i'm done with paperwork for the night,” he gently pushes the endless piles further into his desk. “come on, let’s go.”

jay is up and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and hailey is watching him with an exasperated expression. “jay, i’m going home. i’ll be fine.”

"i'm sure you will be,” he says nonchalantly. “but i'm offering you a warm bed and free whiskey. what more could you want?”

“what i want is to not be a bother and go home,” she stands her ground against his bewildered look. “plus, i don’t have any of my stuff with me and if i have to go get stuff, i may as well stay there,” she explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

jay raises a suspicious eyebrow. “i know you always have an overnight bag in your locker.”

hailey pauses in her mission to get into her winter coat and hopes jay doesn’t notice it; of course, he does. “jay, seriously, i don’t want to be a bother.”

“the only thing that’s bothering me right now is your refusal to let me help you when it literally comes at no cost to me,” he replies, his features entirely serious. hailey is being extra resistant, and he isn’t sure why. “i promise i'll be the perfect gentleman, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

hailey shakes her head. “no, that’s not what…” she trails off, her voice quiet. jay dips his head to catch her eyes; she is being even more mysterious than usual. “okay, i’ll take you up on your offer. but,” she says sharply as he starts to grin victoriously, “this is for one night only, okay? i'm not trying to put anyone out.”

jay rolls his eyes but is still satisfied she changed her mind. “right, because that’s what you’re doing,” he adds sarcastically, and she punches his shoulder in retaliation. he can tell she hates to be a bother, but he wishes he could convey how she is the least bothersome part of his life.

they stop by the locker room so hailey can pick up her bag before they agree to meet back at his place. he’s already mapping out things to do or say to make her feel more comfortable and has a pretty decent list by the time he reaches home.

his apartment is nice and toasty when they arrive and relatively clean. he was never a messy guy and he doesn’t have that much in his apartment to begin with. he takes both their jackets and hangs them in the hall closet, watching out of the corner of his eye how hailey looks small and uncomfortable in his living room. he frowns; she should feel comfortable in every aspect of his life.

“hey, relax, okay?” he tells her on his walk back to the kitchen. his hands land on her shoulder and her blue eyes bore into his nervously. “you're not in my way and you’re always welcome here, you know that.”

he's used to confident and sassy hailey and he wants her back.

“you want something to drink?” he asks. “whiskey?”

his hand is already on the bottle but hailey surprises him by entering his kitchen and taking a hold of his coffee maker. “can i actually make some coffee?” jay smiles at her first sign of comfort and nods with enthusiasm. “that walk from the car to the front door just about killed me.”

“you want to take a shower while the coffee brews?” he asks after a few minutes of scrolling on his phone.

hailey's eyes light up. “yes, i would love that!”

he motions for her to follow him and leads her into his room; the bathroom attached to his room is the only one with a shower.

“this is jay halstead’s bedroom?” hailey teases in a higher-pitched tone. she’s smirking wildly and all he can do is roll his eyes. “everything is black, and you only have the basics. why am i not surprised?”

now it’s his turn to smirk. “i'm a very simple man, upton.”

she shakes her head in response.

“here's the shower,” he explains, popping in to turn the lights on. “fresh towel on the rack and extras in the closet over there,” he points. “i'll leave you to it. do you need anything else?”

hailey sets her bag down in the bathroom and quickly rummages through it. “no, i think i'm okay,” she says and looks up at him. “thank you, jay,” she smiles softly.

jay suddenly finds it hard to swallow and is rushing to exit the room. “yeah, no problem,” he responds quickly. “i'll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

she nods and he’s gone.

his bathroom is very simple but clean. he has his shaving essentials on the corner of his counter, and she’s surprised to see he has a face scrub as well as a moisturizer. but then again, he literally has perfect skin, so she isn’t surprised. she expects to find a 3 in 1 shampoo, conditioner and body wash but is pleasantly surprised when she sees multiple bottles.

she takes her time showering but is still wary of the time. she debates whether or not to use his body wash but ultimately decides smelling like him wouldn’t be so bad. she does have a pair of pyjamas in her overnight bag, but they consist of an oversized dunder-mifflin tee and casual sleeping shorts. she’s not sure if jay had ever seen her bare legs (what with all the black jeans and all) but he was definitely about to. hailey brushes her hair and scrunches it with her fingers before gathering her dirty clothes and folding them into her bag.

when she pads back into the kitchen in her bare feet, jay has his back to her as he prepares their coffees. after years, he knows almost all her preferences, the first being her coffee order. she hums in delight after her first sip.

jay struggles to not drop the mug when he turns around and sees her oversized shirt and shorts. he was expecting anything, but definitely not that. she looks comfortable and tiny and his heart swells with affection. he has to forcefully remind himself that they are partners and nothing else. It’s getting harder to differentiate.

they stand, sipping their coffee in comfortable silence. it’s perfect and hailey wonders why she put up such a fight in the first place, but then the lights go off and everything is black.

jay swears and she hears his coffee mug scraping against the counter. there is an immediate chill as the heater stops functioning and hailey suddenly regrets being barefoot in shorts. jay goes in search of the fuse box to maybe have some luck but to no avail. instead, he lights up a few candles he has stashed in his linen closet and grabs all the flashlights he owns. the candles do a good job of illuminating the kitchen, so he can still admire hailey and her adorableness in his kitchen.

“shit, i'm sorry,” he chuckles. “looks like it’s a lose-lose situation tonight.”

hailey shuffles in her feet and jay prepares himself. “should i go? i mean, it’s the same thing as my place.”

“nonsense,” jay shakes his head. “i have enough blankets here for the both of us.”

jay finds his way back to the linen closet and grabs all the blankets he owns. will absolutely loves fleece blankets and takes any opportunity to gift them, usually to jay, who rolls his eyes and asks why he can’t just gift him a bottle of alcohol like a normal sibling. jay will never admit that the blankets actually came in handy tonight.

“come on, i’ll set you up in my room.”

hailey follows jay down the corridor and back to his room, where he is laying out multiple blankets. he leaves a few in his hands and stands near the door. “let me know if you need anything,” he says with a smile, “i'll just be on the couch.”

hailey sputters and Jay raises an eyebrow. “you are not sleeping on the couch! the whole point of me staying here is that i wouldn’t be a bother.”

“you're not a bother,” he says for the umpteenth time with an eyeroll.

“then get your ass in this bed because you’re not sleeping on the couch,” she replies, and her sass is finally back; he finds himself smirking.

jay relents, setting down the rest of the blankets. “you’re sure?”

“yes,” she sasses with an eyeroll; she has to make up for lost time. “this bed is big enough for both of us and you promised you’d be a gentleman.”

he holds up his hands in surrender. “absolutely.”

jay excuses himself to the bathroom to change into a pair of sweats. he carries a flashlight with him to provide light. he originally intended to take a shower but can only imagine how disastrous showering in the dark would be. he normally sleeps in much less clothing but it’s cold and he wants hailey to be comfortable, so he slips on a t-shirt as well. when he exits the bathroom and shines his light towards the bed, he spots hailey already curled into the blankets. He notices her blonde hair first and then her trembling body.

he automatically adds the remainder of the blankets on the bed and watches as hailey sits up momentarily. “cold?” He asks with a small smile.

“yes,” she says quietly, but then thinks better of it. “what are you waiting for, halstead? are you going to offer me a hoodie or do I have to go searching for one?”

he is amazed with how comfortable she’s become, and he finds himself smirking as he rummages through his drawers. he pulls out an old sweater from his academy days and throws it at her.  “anything else, your highness?” His sarcasm is on point today.

hailey pulls on the sweater, her blonde hair getting ruffled in the process. “honestly?” she raises an eyebrow. “i just want you to get in bed and keep me warm.”

his eyes widen at her forwardness, but he catches the slight nervousness in the way she bites her lip. she doesn’t have to ask him twice though, as he slips into his side of the bed.

before he has the chance to do anything, hailey turns to him in the dark. "is this okay?” she asks quietly as she cuddles closer.

his hands find her waist to pull her as close as possible and hailey can feel his sweatpants as her bare legs tangle with his. “more than okay. it really is cold,” he whispers, chuckling.

“yeah,” she replies, and he can feel her breath on his collarbone. “i guess this is better than staying in my apartment all alone."

“are you kidding me?” jay laughs. “hell yeah it is. i'm an amazing cuddler.”

he can feel hailey’s hands against his chest. “wasn’t aware we had the cuddling type of relationship.”

jay pauses. “to be honest, i don’t know where i stand with you. like ever. you scare the hell out of me.”

hailey pulls back slightly; she wants to see his face but it’s so dark. “scared of me? i'm like half your size; how can you be scared?”

“you can be very intimidating when you want to be, hailey,” he replies. “but it’s scary. when you don’t know where the other person stands.”

she nods. “i guess so, yeah.”

“i know we’re partners, and we’re supposed to trust each other unconditionally and maybe I’m reading into it too much —”

“you’re not, jay,” she interrupts. “i think i always knew i was going to fall for you eventually. i mean, how could i not?” she continued, oblivious to the fact jay literally stopped breathing. “i’ve trusted you since the day i met you. you have the biggest heart and honestly, i strive to be even half the cop you are every day.”

jay curses again. “shit, hailey,” they’re still tangled together. “it kills me that you don’t appreciate everything you are because you are the best cop i know. and i'll admit it, i didn’t want to work with another female cop because we all remember how that worked out last time,” he chuckles to cover the awkwardness he’s feeling. “but you snuck up on me. what with all your sass and your stubbornness.”

hailey is smiling so wide and it’s a shame Jay can’t see it. she pushes into him, forcing him to roll over on his back and she follows him on his chest. her hands reach up to his face, tracing the smile on his lips.

“i know you love my sass,” she starts. “and who are you calling stubborn, you hardass?”

jay’s hands are on her waist, holding her steady. “fair enough,” he chuckles.

“jay, i love this right now,” hailey says quietly, “i love being here with you and i genuinely see the potential here. but at the same time, we’re partners and our jobs demand so much of us.”

the giddiness he was feeling starts deflating.

“but i don’t want to put the brakes on us,” this catches his attention. “i like you too much for that. i just want to take it slow. see where it takes us. are you alright with that?”

the happiness he was feeling earlier returns at full force and he finds himself grabbing her hips and rolling them over so he’s hovering over her. she’s giggling and honestly, if that is the last sound he ever hears, he’ll die happily. “i'm more than alright with that,” he answers her question. he can dimly see her face and the shine in her gaze. “when taking things slow, how long should i wait before i kiss you?”

hailey smirks and he can see a dim outline. “i think you’re already a few months overdue.”

he wastes no more time in pressing his lips to hers. he tastes of coffee and so does she, and it’s absolutely perfect. there is no urgency, just bliss. this has been a long time coming and now that it’s finally here, all they can do is enjoy it.

“i could get used to that,” hailey mumbles against his lips. his heart literally skips a beat. “i really want to get used to that.”

hailey dives in for more and he lets her. she can do whatever she wants with him, he’ll let her.

“still cold?” he asks after they pull away and he pulls her into their initial position.

hailey chuckles. “that’s not exactly the word i would use.”

jay smirks but he keeps his cool; they’re taking it slow.

“goodnight, hailey.”

he presses a kiss to her temple.

“goodnight, halstead. dream a little dream of me.”

hailey cuddles closer, her lips hovering over his neck.

“i could do that, but i’ve got the real deal right here,” he squeezes her hip. “and i don’t plan on letting go anytime soon.”

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Heaven is a Place on Earth

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson/Kory Anders, Core Four

Summary: Stargazing was really relaxing and helped with her shattered nerves but Kory knew deep down she needed something more. 

Check out the prompt list | REQUESTS OPEN

Hand-holding | 43. raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly, Dickkory - for Vanessa N Isaacs 

When she abruptly woke up, her breathing rapid and heartbeat racing, all she could feel was fire.

Kory's used to fire coursing through her veins, but this time it's not the warm and comforting power of her Starfire, it's a conflagration, turning her into a pile of ashes. Sweat was dripping from her face, lungs refused to cooperate and the only thing on her mind was run, get out.

Throwing the tangled covers away in a hurry she slipped off the comfortable mattress to sit down at the edge of the bed. She wanted to run her fingers through the messy bush of her curly purple hair but she noticed her palms were giving out a soft orange glow. The waves of heat were flowing underneath her skin like water in the river during a storm. The sight could be almost calming but it only added fuel to the fear squeezing Kory's chest.

"It was just a dream," she whispered, closing her eyes, her fingers curling into fists. "Just a fucking dream."

She ordered herself to steady her breathing, to calm down her raging heart. She looked over her shoulder at Dick, who remained asleep on his side of their bed, facing away from her. In the faint light coming from the window she could make out the outline of his bare back. Watching him breathe in his sleep calmed her down a bit but she knew it won't do the trick after the horrors she just witnessed in her mind.

So she stood up and as quietly as she could stepped out of the room.

***

The door to Rachel's room creaked when she opened it and Kory froze. She waited five seconds, holding her breath, but the girl didn't wake up. Kory didn't mean to enter anyway, she just wanted to slide her head in to sneak a glance, that's all.

Rachel slept soundly curled up in her bed, wrapped in her blankets so tightly that only the top of her head was visible. Kory's heart slowed its pace a little, knowing that the girl was alright. She leaned her head on the doorframe and smiled fondly. She could never sleep like that, she'd feel trapped, not to mention how hot it'd be under all these blankets, but Rachel loved the heat. She loved to bury herself in the covers and pillows and soak up the warmth, especially when she didn't have anyone to cuddle with and share body heat - usually that person was Dick.

She's okay, Kory told herself when the images from her nightmare flooded her mind again. She's okay and she's sleeping so stop being paranoid.

She closed the door with a soft click and moved to the bedroom next door - Gar's. Peering inside she let out a quiet laugh. The boy was sprawled out on top of the covers, arms and legs spread in every direction. His mouth was slightly open and the soft snoring sound he was making made Kory giggle so hard she had to press her hand to her mouth to keep it quiet. He's okay, she told herself and closed the door behind her, a fond smile still tugging at her lips.

It was just a dream. The kids are alright.

Then why was she still shaking? Why was her heart still trying to break out of her chest? Why were her hands still glowing? She didn't- She didn't, right? She just checked. The kids are alright.

There's no going back to bed, Kory knew it. So her bare feet carried her further down the hall to the living room and out on the balcony. She stepped out into the chilly night air, not feeling a bit cold despite having only a gray tank top and pink shorts on. Leaning on the railing with her hands folded in front of her she looked up and took a long, deep breath.

The sky was exceptionally clear tonight, the stars scattered around were shining like glitter, she could even make out a few constellations. Such views are rare in cities like San Francisco - at least that's what Dick told her once. Something about pollution in the air and tall buildings covering the sky.

Stargazing was really relaxing and helped with her shattered nerves but Kory knew deep down she needed something more. Something that unfortunately was out of reach this time.

Back on her home planet whenever she felt the need to clear her mind or get her unstable powers under control, she would take a small ship for a ride and spend a few hours drifting in space, close to Tamaran's orbit, watching those little shiny dots from up close. Oh, to be stardiving again! It was the only time she, Koriand'r, Princess of Tamaran, could be truly alone - no royal guard, no servants, no nobles, politicians or other royal family members, close or distant. She missed soaring through hyperspace, twirling between asteroids, surfing on stardust. The other day during a movie night the team was watching one of the Star Wars movies (Gar wanted a whole marathon and he was stubborn as hell about it) and at some point Kory had to excuse herself and run to hide in the bathroom because she was one second away from crying. Seeing the vast space, the ships, even the hyperspace tunnel (that didn't look like this in real life at all but that's not the point) felt like getting repeatedly stabbed in the heart. It brought back memories that were fond and happy but stung like a fresh cut. Her heart couldn't take it. 

Being out there felt almost heavenly, it just made all your worries go away, even if only for a moment. No duties, no laws, no control, nothing - just her and the stars. The lights, the colors, the feeling of being light as a feather… she missed being instantly healed from her worries thanks to all that.

But things are different now. Back then Kory took every opportunity to run away from her duties and responsibilities and hide between the stars. Now she was here on Earth - with new duties and new responsibilities. And she found herself realizing that for the first time in her life she doesn't want to get away from them, even for a moment of quiet and peace. She had this team now, this family, two amazing kids she and Dick were raising together - she couldn't just take off whenever she felt like it. She wasn't a princess anymore, but she was a freaking superhero, a friend, a girlfriend and most of all - a mother. 

She looked at her hands again, feeling that her lower lip was starting to tremble. If that dream had been real, if the kids really were… if she really-

"There you are," she heard a sleepy voice behind her and turned to find Dick standing in the doorway. He was barefoot as well, only in sweatpants and a t-shirt he must have thrown on when he got up. He was watching her with curious eyes, but not without a hint of worry. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

She gave him a faint smile even though she could feel tears welling up behind her eyes. One glance down told her that her palms were still glowing so she hid them behind her back. 

"I just needed some fresh air."

His gaze lost all signs of curiosity - now it was just worry. He stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him.

"Nightmares?" he guessed.

She shook her head and sighed, "Dick…"

"Kory…" he shot back mocking her tone, half playful, half serious and she instantly knew she lost that fight. Once he noticed something was wrong he wasn't going to back down. It was their children who taught him that patience and resilience with their own night terrors and shutting down.

Dick walked up to her and leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. Kory turned back to the city view and fixed her eyes on the buildings but she could feel his gaze boring into her skull, studying her, trying to read something from her face.

"It was nothing." she finally told him, not being able to stand the pressure anymore.

"If you're out here at 3 am watching the stars, it's not nothing."

She winced and looked away. Damn it, sometimes she forgot how well he knew her. It's one of the things she loved so much about him - he could break her down to pieces and put back together with one single glance.

She dropped her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Part of her wanted to tell him, he was only trying to help after all, but at the thought of putting that nightmare into words a painful lump grew in her throat. She shook her head helplessly, her lips pressed into a thin line. She couldn't do it.

His hand slipped across her back and Kory shivered when he moved closer to embrace her. It was a hesitant hug, he wanted to comfort her but was mindful of her needing space and acted carefully, ready to step back if she wanted him to.

She didn't.

"You know you can tell me, right?" he whispered, leaning closer to her face. Their eyes met and after a long moment full of dread Kory uncurled her fingers wrapped around the railing, revealing a soft orange glow that illuminated their faces.

"I lost control," she breathed out, her voice wobbly. "My Starfire got out of hand and… I hurt the kids."

Her voice broke and she lost the fight to keep her tears at bay. She leaned into Dick who instantly wrapped his arms around her, letting her hide her face in the curve of his neck.

"They begged me to stop and I- I couldn't." She was full-on sobbing now. The dam finally broke. "I felt nothing, I was empty. But I can still hear Gar screaming, I can feel Rachel's skin melting under my hand…"

She couldn't get another word out, it was too much. Kory couldn't remember the last time she cried this hard, but now she wasn't able to stop. Dick held her tightly against him, rubbing her back.

"Kory, you would never do that-"

"You don't know that!" She cried out, ripping herself out from his embrace. His arms fell helplessly to his sides as he watched her with pain and worry written all over his face. Kory lifted her hands in front of her, showing him the pulsing fire beneath her skin. "I woke up and my hands looked like this. I didn't do anything while I was asleep but how can I know I won't do it next time?"

Dick took a step closer.

"Kory-"

"How can I know I won't hurt Rachel or Gar - or you - when I'm like this? How-"

"Kory!" he called out to her and stopped her panicked rambling by grabbing her hands in between his own. He locked eyes with her before he pulled her closer, trapping their joined hands between their chests and then spoke softly but with total conviction.

"Kory, this is not gonna happen."

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "How do you know?"

Dick smiled, then slowly lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them softly. 

"Because I know these hands," he whispered tenderly and lifted his eyes back at her. "They are capable of many things but they would never hurt our kids in any way. You would never do that, Kory. I know that and Gar and Rachel know that, too."

Her heart almost melted when she heard him say our kids. They both loved them more than anything in the world. And that love is what brought them together, tying them to each other like an invisible string.

Blinking away her tears Kory finally smiled and leaned her forehead against his.

"Have I ever told you that I love you, Grayson?"

He let out a quiet chuckle and let go of her hands, wrapping his arms around her waist instead.

"Maybe once or twice."

She looped her arms around his neck relishing in his closeness. They stayed like that, forehead to forehead, until her heartbeat came back to normal and the last of her tears had dried out.

"We can go check on them if you want." he suggested softly, gazing into her eyes. She brushed her nose against his.

"I already did. I almost didn't notice Rachel under all those blankets."

Dick chuckled and Kory felt her heart skipping a beat at the sight of dimples that appeared on his face. Great X'Hal, she was head over heels for this man.

"Yeah, she loves to turn herself into a burrito," he nodded, smiling tenderly. "And let me guess, Gar's spread out on his bed as wide as he can, isn't he?"

"Like a fucking starfish." she giggled, shaking her head. "Funny how he'd take up a lot less space if he actually turned into one."

"Oh, don't give him ideas." Dick shot her a warning look but his gaze wasn't serious and his voice sounded giddy. "Remember what happened last time he turned into a sea creature?"

They both burst out laughing so hard Kory had to lean her head on Dick's shoulder. Yeah, she remembered a giant green dolphin in the middle of their living room damn too well. Gar was so panicked he forgot how to turn back and although it was a bit scary back then, now it was one of the best embarrassing stories they loved to tell and he hated to hear.

When their laughter died down they both sighed in content and found themselves lost in each other's eyes again. Dick reached out to tuck an unruly purple curl behind her ear.

"So what do you wanna do?" he murmured, his low voice sending shivers down her spine. She looked up at the stars again and smiled. She didn't need to drift between the stars to feel like she's in Heaven - she found it here, in the loving arms of the best man she has ever known.

"This." She breathed out and leaned in to press her lips to his, softly at first as a sign of gratitude, but then his arms gripped her tighter and he deepened the kiss, putting more passion into it. And the galaxy of stars lit up behind Kory's eyes, the fire in her veins spreading out from her palms through her entire body. It wasn't dangerous and scary anymore, but warm and bright, like the love she felt for her new family.

Yeah, who needs stardiving when Heaven is a place on Earth?

[pocketfulofrogers]

Solace

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You’ve recently switched to the night shift and the adjustment hasn’t been great. Your neighbor would agree.

Notes: This is a part of @buckygrantbarnes writing challenge! I chose concept #5: Character and Reader are neighbors, and Reader keeps waking Character up by setting a really loud alarm in the middle of the night. 

I know this is a smidge late, but life has been crazy! Thanks for hosting, I had a lot of fun writing this!!

Steve Rogers considers himself a reasonable man, he really does. He remains patient with the trainees while he shows them new techniques again and again until his mind melts, taking each clipped jaw in stride. He even always smiles at the children trying to climb his body in their excitement when all he wants is a coffee. 

During those precious moments he isn’t in the suit, he’s a very quiet, laid back man.

Which is why he’s gone two months without breaking down your door in the middle of the night when he hears that shrill, incessant alarm you seem to be immune to seeping through the shared wall.

He’s been tortured before. This is worse.

Each time he comes home from a mission, peels the Kevlar from his body, and sinks to his bed, your alarm steals away the hope of a quick slumber and he loathes you for it.

Sam tells him to try writing a letter, Natasha offers to break in and steal it.

He considers both options, the latter more seriously, until one afternoon he runs into you after his morning jog. The elevator doors are almost closed when he shoves his hand in the small opening. He mutters an apology, but hears no response.

You’re leaned on the wall, arms crossed before your chest, head resting against the metal and for a moment he thinks you may actually be asleep.

He doesn’t say anything, he’s been there.

“6B right?” You mumble. He’s not sure he’s heard you correctly. “I’m 6A. I think I’ve seen you around.”

When you look over at him, his stomach flops, does somersaults in his belly. You look positively wrecked. The light blue scrubs you’re wearing are splattered and stained with various colors, and the bags under your eyes are deep enough he’s almost concerned for your health.

Yet he thinks you may be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Uh- yeah, Steve.” He manages.

You nod and go back to resting your head. “Y/N.”

He imagines he may be more tolerant going forward.

**

He tries to catch you again in the following weeks, but your schedule seems to be more unpredictable than his. That stupid, stupid alarm still wakes him most nights, but he finds it easier to suffer through now.

**

One night he comes home after a long mission. Exhaustion weighs his body enough he almost considers passing out by the door, but after days of sleeping on dirt floors, his back is pleading for the comfort of his bed.

Looking at his watch he knows he has about 45 minutes before you have to be up for work. Maybe it’s the hope that for one night he could have a restful sleep, or perhaps the humidity of the jungle had just escaped had dissolved his patience, but his feet have padded their way to the hallway before he truly knows what he’s going to do.

Barefoot before your door, he knocks. Once. Twice. Then a third time.

He waits patiently until he hears you mumble something less than kind from behind the door and finds himself smiling at the irony.

**

Having someone pound on your door at midnight, ripping you from a dead sleep, is only about the third worst thing to happen to you this week.

You fling the door open. “Do you have any…“

Of all the people it could’ve been, Martha from 5A coming to complain about nonexistent noise, the new mom from 6F asking you to check out her baby for the third time this week, or the teen from 2 trying to convince you he definitely needs a medical marijuana card, a very tired Captain America leaning on your door frame is the last thing you expected.

He raises a brow at your unfinished threat. “Ah yes, 12:09. 21 minutes before your alarm.”

You furrow your brows. “How do- “

“Look,” He interrupts, pushing off from your door frame, you don’t miss his wince- the way he favors his right side. “I know you probably have a very important job, and getting up in the middle of the night for shifts like those must be brutal, but I’ve just gotten off quite a draining ‘shift’ myself and was hoping that for at least one night you could just not.”

You’re catching on. “’Just not?’ Are you talking about my alarm?” He nods. You’re stunned, having thought that with as much as you pay a month, the walls would’ve been much thicker. Or is it really that loud? Adjusting to the night shift had been rough. “Oh, wow, I am so sorry.”

He shakes his head and points to his ear. “Super good hearing, don’t worry about it. Thank you.” He turns to walk away and that’s when you notice his limp, and the blood.

“Woah, wait. Did you have anyone look at that?” You point at his leg and he shrugs, giving you a less than assuring ‘it’s fine’ and goes to open his apartment door. “Uh- no. That’s a 6-inch lac that’s still actively bleeding? Are you insane? Please, let me take a look.”

“That’s very kind, but-“

“Your ribs could also be broken and I’ll just spend all day worrying about if you died in your sleep from a punctured lung or something. I can’t have Captain America’s death on my conscious.”

He takes a moment to look you up and down and weighs his chances of being able to talk his way out of whatever this is. He’ll heal on his own, eventually, but the look in your eyes tells him he’d have more luck trying to convince Martha he doesn’t actually stomp around just to annoy her.

“Alright.”

**

Managing to get Steve to strip down to some shorts and a tank top, he’s sat at your kitchen table. It took you a solid five minutes to convince him that he needed stitches, and lucky for him, you steal suture kits.

“You know, when you told me your name it would’ve been the perfect moment to mention you’re Steve as in Steve Rogers.” You lightly chastise, holding pressure to his thigh.

He doesn’t even flinch. “Not like I was hiding it. You did look right at me.”

You laugh. “Well I had just gotten off a 36-hour shift, you cannot hold that against me.”

He watches quietly as you work, forehead creased with worry and constantly mumbling about how he’s lucky there’s no signs of infection, with an occasional ‘you really weren’t going to do anything about this’. He finds your commentary amusing.

Your fingers glide across his skin and your touch is faint enough it almost tickles. You’re worried about nerve damage, but he thinks you’re just that good.

With a pile of red stained gauze by your side and the area around his wound as clean as you could get it, you grab a lamp from your desk and pick up the needle with your hemostat. Well, not yours, really. Also stolen, but sterile!

When you hold the needle up and adjust your grip on the clamp, he gives you a wary look.

“What?”

“I don’t know how I feel about a thief stitching me back together.” He says with a raised brow. There’s a glint in his eyes, the smallest twitch at the edge of his lips.

You roll your eyes. “With as hard as they work me, this is the least they owe me.”

“What do you even use them for?”

Your quite for a moment. “Sewing.” You say quietly and he barks a laugh. “I just- hush, don’t distract me.”

He complies and sits back to watch you fondly. Your teeth sink into the pillow of your lip each time you push the needle into the flesh of his thigh. You had apologized for not having any kind of numbing agent, but he had assured you that he’d be just fine.

Still, you glace up with each pull to make sure it’s not some macho show. Then again, he was Captain American and by the look of him at this moment, the pinch of a needle is probably more an annoying after thought than anything else.

Cutting the last stitch, you place the bandaging and offer him a smile. He thanks you sincerely, but you tsk when he tries to get past you to the door.

“Shirt off.” You order. He takes a half step back, cocks his head to the side and smirks. How he could be even slightly amorous at this moment is beyond you. “I want to check your ribs, make sure nothing’s displaced.” Something in his eyes shifts, he’s hesitant- guarded- and you’re unsure why. “I haven’t seen you take a single normal breath in the time you’ve been here. A simple, quick exam can tell me if there’s anything to worry about.”

He looks away and you’re about to suggest that he just check in with the medical team at wherever it is that super people work. They have to have medical staff, right? You tuck that question away for later.

Steve looks back to you and nods before pulling the white cotton over his head.

You would be completely stunned at the site of his quite perfect physique if it weren’t for the bruises blossoming bright red and dark purple across his torso.

You catch yourself moving closer, reaching forward to graze a finger around the outline of the prominent colors. “Jesus, Steve.” You whisper.

“Heard that phrase before, never in a situation like this, though.” He mumbles,  but you ignore him and begin to prod as carefully as you can.

When you apply pressure to a certain spot that looks the most concerning, his breath exhales quickly in a hiss. “Sorry.” You mumble and find yourself asking how this happened before you can stop yourself.

He grabs your hand in his to stop your exploring fingers. The memory from these injuries hadn’t quite made their way through him yet. They sat too fresh on the forefront of his mind and being this vulnerable before someone he barely knows is quickly becoming too much.

“I’m fine, darlin’, really.” He says softly. You of course don’t buy it for a minute, but the proximity of him steals your fight, you lose your argument in the blue of his eyes.

“Ice it.” You order weakly. “Maybe just bruised, probably fractured.”

He nods, twitching the edges of his lips into a smile. Your hand is still in his and he brings it up to ghost your knuckles against his lips before thanking you again.

He leaves you there, stunned. You’re 15 minutes late for work.

**

“Wait. You had the Steve Rogers in your apartment half naked?” Your friend prods during your lunch break. You nod and lower your forehead to rest against your coffee cup. “And you didn’t even take advantage, kudos to you. Wait, is this a HIPAA violation?”

You sigh and look up to meet her narrowed eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know. Wouldn’t be surprised if SHIELD took me out, though.”

“Is that even a thing anymore? I can’t keep up with that craziness.” She shakes her head.

“Guess I could ask my neighbor, but I doubt he’d tell me the truth.”

“You have to see him again. You’re going to see him again right?” You try to ignore the excitement in her voice.

“He is my neighbor and those sutures have to come out eventually. Although he’ll probably just rip them out himself.” The thought makes you cringe.

“You know that’s not-“

Thankfully your pager goes off right then, cutting her interrogation short. “Sorry! Incoming trauma, gotta bounce.”

**

Steve comes home that evening to ice packs with the nearby hospital logo on them by his door. “Stop stealing from work.” He calls out and is rewarded with your laughter floating out from under your door.

**

He starts to make a habit of it, showing up at your doorstep sometimes bruised, usually bloody. You start to keep a bigger stock of supplies around, and worry on the nights he doesn’t show before you leave when you know he’s on mission.

He tries to message you when service and circumstance allows, just to ease you mind.

Every once in a while, you’ll find him sitting in the hallway beside your door, waiting with food and some injury that needs your attention.

Eventually you get around to asking him if there just isn’t any medical staff where he is, he tells you this is just more convenient. You don’t prod, but think it may have more to do with the way you treat him. Like a patient, a person, not an Avenger.

**

One night a knock awakes you in the middle of the night. You jump out of bed, knowing it’s most likely him. When you open the door and lay eyes on him, your heart stops.

He’s leaned against the doorway, barely able to hold himself up. There’s blood on the wall, his hands, his face, everywhere. He’s ghostly pale and you can tell he can hardly focus his eyes.

Before he can pass out, you wedge yourself under his arm and try to guide him inside.

“Probably shoulda just went to medical, shouldn’t’ve driven.” He tells you before collapsing onto your couch and you work quickly to get his suit off, apologizing each time he groans in pain.

“Oh god, Steve.” You whisper eyeing the deep gash on his side and quickly apply pressure.

He grunts. “I hope to hear you say something like that under different circumstances one day. You know, not in horror at the state of my health.”

“Well, don’t only show up when you’re hurt.” You shoot back and tape the gauze in place so you can get a line started. You had hoped he’d never show up this hurt, but a part of you can be relieved that you were prepared for it.

“Hey, I brought you food at work last week.”

You ignore that. “Steve, this is bad. Really bad. What the hell were you thinking?” 

Ignoring his half assed excuse, you get to work, quickly and tensely, mumbling your thoughts and a few vague threats about him not being allowed to die on you.

“Don’t worry, darlin, wouldn’t dream of goin’ anywhere.”

Once you get the bleeding under control unlike your emotions, you start to lay into him. Loudly. Your reaction is to be blamed on fear, the absolute nightmare that the man before you, who you’ve reluctantly become very attached to, could have actually died in your arms.

“I mean, seriously, Steve! How could you be so reckless?”

He drapes his arm over his eyes. “I like you more than the docs we have.”

You huff and begin cleaning the rest of him up. “I’m sure they’re just as good at their jobs.”

He shakes his head and willingly gives you the arm resting above him when you reach for it. “You’re better.” He states simply and you snort your disbelief. “Your hands are softer. I think your touch reminds me I’m still human.” He says quietly, eyes trained on the ceiling.

Your movements stall, his admission leaving you a little dazed. When he tilts his head to look over at you, you swear you stop breathing.

“I think I’ll always prefer you.”

The rational part of you is telling you to just chalk this up to blood loss, not to get your hopes up because this could get so complicated. But the other part, oh the hopeful part, was singing.

“I think I prefer you too.”

He laughs. “As a patient? Neighbor? Avenger?”

“Oh, come on now.” You start seriously. “The Black Widow went to Capitol Hill and basically told congress they wouldn’t arrest her because they didn’t have the balls. She will always be my favorite. You might be a close second.”

“Might be?”

“You’re first for everything else. Take the win, Steve.”

It only takes five minutes and two bribes to convince him to stay the night and that you should call out of work to keep an eye on him. He had protested, given you every excuse he could come up with, but you are well versed in the language of Steve Rogers.

You set a takeout menu from his favorite place before him during the middle of his ‘you have already done so much for me’ speech and he grumbles out an ‘alright’.

**

He awakes just after dawn to your head on his thigh, your body tucked tightly between his leg and the couch, and the intro music to some infomercial droning in the background. The last thing he wants to do is move, he could watch you like this all day. Maybe one day he’ll get to.

**

When you finally wake up, he’s gone. There’s a blanket from the laundry room draped over you and the smell of him still on your pillow.

A part of you is hurt, but you’re not quite sure why.

You don’t hear from him for two weeks.

**

Some coworkers suggest going downtown to blow of some steam and, since you knew Steve was home all week out of harm’s way, you agree. It’s not often you get to go out stress free.

However, mixing alcohol with a list of fairly serious questions that only one extremely handsome and infuriating super soldier could answer isn’t the greatest idea. Especially when said blue-eyed day dream lives right next door.

It isn’t long before you’re stumbling up to his door, despite the warnings of everyone that night that you absolutely should not. 2am wasn’t that late and when you get an idea in your head it’s hard to shake it.

He answers faster than you thought he would and his amused expression only distracts you for a few moments.

“You’re drunk.” He points out, trying to withhold a grin.

You scrunch your nose. “A smidge.”

“Lose your key?”

“No. Well… maybe. But that’s not why I’m here.” You take a step forward, place a hand on the door frame to steady yourself, and point a single finger at him. “I have questions that need answers, Cap. Let me in.” He raises his brows. “Please.” You add and he obliges.

You make your way to his kitchen and take a seat at the island, he trails in behind you. “Would you like some water? I think you should have some water.”

He sets a glass before you when you don’t reply, but with his eyes watching you, concern in the crease of his brow, you suddenly feel vulnerable- exposed. Where had that burning rage at him for leaving you without a word gone? Why had you been so angry to begin with?

It’s difficult to sift through the thoughts in your head, and the alcohol wasn’t exactly making that easier. What was the word for what you felt? Used? Forgotten? The last thing you wanted to do was sound like a needy child.

He leans forward onto the counter before you. “What’s on your mind, darlin’?”

Instead of meeting his eyes, you run the tip of your finger through the condensation on the glass, watch it pool on the marble.

“Talk to me. What is it?” He asks again

Suddenly you wish you had just gone home.

You chug the water. “It’s nothing, never mind. I’m just gonna go to bed.”

He steps in front of you before you can make it to the door, pleads with you again to just talk to him. You try to get past him, but his hand on your hip makes you freeze. He trails it up your side, grazes his knuckles up your arm. His fingers stop below your chin to gently tilt your eyes up to his.

His lips have barely parted to form his next plea when you cut him off. “What am I to you.” You barely whisper.

That catches him off guard.

“If this is just a convenience thing for you, I need to know.” He looks confused but you power through before he can respond. “Maybe your admission was just the blood loss talking and you disappeared to keep me from getting attached, although it’s a little late for that. Or, maybe there’s someone else. Which is fine-“

“Do you think I’m using you?” He appears hurt at the insinuation and suddenly it’s difficult to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Is that what you really think?”

“I don’t know what to think, Steve.”

He crashes his lips to yours. A sudden almost desperate act that leaves you useless. Your brain stalls and suddenly he is all there is. 

It’s needy and messy, but it is everything you needed. You thread your fingers through his hair and press yourself to him. The soft feel of him steals your hurt, dissipates that pit in your stomach, and you could almost hate him for it.  

He pulls away, breathless. “What part of ‘I will always prefer you’ wasn’t clear?”

[syndianites]

The After; The Athar: Chapter Four

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 [Here] - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan’s house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: It’s Wednesday, totallyyyyyy. Just a little late haha, but here it is! Chapters 1-4 already written out. That means I actually need to finish chapter 5 and continue onward. I mentioned this before, but I’d been sitting on this since September of last year, and had chapter 4 done in... December? Of last year.

——————————————————————————————

“So, did you actually come to talk, or did you need something from me?” Jordan was looking towards the town now, legs crossed. With his arms splayed across the back of the couch, chin up, he looked like the perfect picture of nonchalance.

 Wag knew that that was far from correct.

 However, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, drawing Jordan’s eye. “Well, I did actually come to see if you knew where Martha was, and if not Martha, Spark.”

 Jordan gave him a thoughtful frown.

 “Not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” Wag added in, “It’s just that I really need to see Martha. Rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I’m, uh. Breaking up with her.”

 Jordan’s face crumpled into a harsh discomfort, like someone had just doused his socks in water and told him all his other socks were missing.

 “Ah. That’s. Unfortunate?” He winces. “I’m sorry about your loss. Eventual loss. Yeah.”

 Wag shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “She’s not dying, Jordan. I just realised that we- well, it didn’t matter what I realised. We’re better as just friends, if she’s okay with that.”

 Jordan nodded, lips pinched together. “I’m afraid I don’t recall where she was going today. Spark, however, should be at Town Hall handling some paperwork. She might be with him, might not. I’d ask him.”

 Getting up with a stretch, Wag replied, “Thanks. The faster I do this the better.”

 Jordan stood as well, following Wag to the front door. They stood there. Wag shuffled his feet. “I, uh. I’m not sure where the Town Hall is. Could you show me?”

 He had a fair idea, but not a sure one. The Town Hall was a building Wag often forgot about. But not because he didn't care to commit it to memory.

 To start, it looked like all the other buildings around it. Acacia based, a foundation of sandstone that peaked up from below the ground, and an easy, sloped thatch roof. It gave the buildings a log cabin feel, while still fitting in with the landscape. The edges were built with acacia logs to bring in a nice neutral gray which held it all together.

 Now, if it just looked like every other building that’d be fine. But it also had no marker to identify it as Town Hall. Or, rather, the marker it had was easily mistaken for something else- an open book with a quill. For example, it could be the symbol for a courthouse, or the symbol for a law firm. Or the Records Hall.

 Wag didn’t know where the Records Hall was either.

 Add in the fact that no one really went in there since the majority of citizens specialized in fishing and you have a place that is forgettable at best.

 That being said, Wag would rather have some company on his death march to breaking up with Martha. Using his unsureness of where, exactly, the Town Hall was would be a good excuse to keep talking to Jordan. At the least, it would help with his nerves.

 Jordan looked off to the side. “Isn’t it right next to-” He cut off. Thought for a second. “Yeah, it’d be better to just show you.”

 Wag smiled. He swept his hand towards the path and gave Jordan a shallow bow. “After you, my dear.”

 Shaking his head, Jordan began to lead the way, Wag trailing along just behind his shoulder.

 They descended the hill in comfortable silence. Jordan was clearly thinking about something, looking for a good moment to bring it up. Wag welcomed the change from thinking about his future.

 He side-eyed him. “Got something on your mind, my good fellow? Want to talk more about how the world has it out for us?”

 Jordan rolled his eyes. “No, I think that’s enough of that depressing topic for now.” A beat of silence. “I was just thinking-”

 “You’ve got to be careful with that.”

 “-Thinking about Tom.”

 Wag gasped. “Thinking about another man while we take such a romantic stroll together? How dare you.”

 “Yes, walking over to the Town Hall so you can talk to the man who looks like an older version of me and has a superiority complex is so romantic” Jordan wrinkled his nose. It’s not like he’d know much about romantic. Between Jordan and anyone else that was ever interested in him, the other had done more work. Jordan’s idea of romance was probably ‘let’s build some complex contraption together’.

 “We could always detour,” Wag suggested, lightly elbowing Jordan’s arm. “Take it across the beach, pick up shells that we’d think the other would like, hold hands and go barefoot to walk in the waves. Call it a date.”

 “I beach you it’d be a good time, but I’ll have to wave the idea off. I do have things I want to get done today.” Jordan turned to him with a glimmer in his eyes and a bashful, yet impish smile.

 “Wow.” Wag blinked a few times. “That was forced and you know it. ‘I beach you’?” He fake gagged. “So cheesy.”

 Jordan turned away with a huff.

 Wait.

 “Oh, my gosh, wave was also a pun. That was a double pun. I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.”

 “Thank you, I’ll be taking cash donations for my genius.”

 “I’ll be taking cash compensation for having to hear that with my own two ears.”

 Jordan laughed, a lovely, quiet sound. It was breathy, and just off of squeaky, but it made Wag’s ears burn.

 Weird.

 “I’m afraid,” Jordan followed up, “That we have a no refund policy. Once heard you can’t get your investment back. It was on page 8 of the contract you signed upon meeting me: ‘You accept any and all amazing, lovely puns that come out of Jordan’s mouth.’”

 “Wow. 8 pages? I don’t remember 8 pages. What I remember was, ‘Hello, I am most likely going to be inside, at home, for most of our friendship. And this is to say I’m not avoiding you, I’m preparing the most intricate, strong things imaginable for when shit inevitably goes to hell.’ That’s not even a page, it was a sheet of paper torn in half.” Was that overly accurate about Jordan? No. But the dig was worth it.

 Jordan shook his head, indignant, “I don’t stay inside that much! How dare you assume I’d be able to stay cooped up inside for so long. Clearly, if you wanted to be precise, I would have written ‘I’ll most likely be working on cool and awesome things that make me super prepared to help My Lady in any way possible.’ Inside versus outside means nothing in that regard.”

 “Ah, my bad. Let me rephrase that, ‘I am so loyal to Ianite and her existence that I will breathe balance, eat balance, and become balance. People will look at me and think ‘Wow, that guy sure is the epitome of balance. Almost enough to rival Ianite herself.’, except I’ll just look cool and be a good champion.”

 “Ok, ok, let’s back up here.” Jordan turned to look at Wag. To look up at Wag, more specifically. Shorty. “Going that far makes me sound like Spark, and I am nowhere near as bad as him. Like, c’mon, he was so dedicated to Ianite he married her.”

 They were in front of the Town Hall now.

 Jordan lowered his voice, like Spark could hear him. “He honestly needs a hobby.”

 Wag shook his head, stifling a laugh.

 “Well,” Jordan’s voice rose back to a regular volume. “Looks like we’re here.”

 “Looks so.”

 They stalled for a second.

 “I better get going,” Jordan started. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll help you with anything.” He side-eyed Wag, a joking look in his eye. “As long as it’s reasonable.”

 “That means a lot to me.” Wag smiled. “I promise that my next visit will actually be for you. It’s only fair, especially since you’re a dear friend of mine.”

 With a huff and a returned smile, Jordan pushed him along. “You don’t have to promise that.”

 “I want to. Since it’s you.”

 Wag turned and began walking up the steps into the building.

 Jordan felt his heart beat just a little faster. He tried to convince himself that that didn’t mean as much to him as his heart said.

 It really wasn’t that deep.

 ---

 The Town Hall was one of the first non-residential buildings placed in the town. In the time that they’d all been gone, there had been some remodelling to the valley.

 The first, most prominent, in Wag’s opinion, change was the removal of the Dianite statue head thing. If it was still there, Wag would not have built his tower right next to that. No siree.

 The rest of the changes were fairly mild: the paths around were fiddled with to give access to the beach and town buildings, the farms were cleaned up, and so on.

 Now, the Town Hall was delicately placed between the farms and the Tea Pot. The Tea Pot which was left standing. In all the revisions that were made to the land, someone looked at the Tea Pot, looked at the space it took up, and decided it should remain.

 There was a goddamn Tea Pot next to Town Hall.

 And Wag still struggled to remember where the Town Hall was.

 Needless to say, Wag head inside, giving a wave to the secretary. While there was no official “Mayor” of the town, there was a general administrative body made up of some of the townsfolk. It was a democratic setup, which leaned towards a more free-market, socialist style of living.

 Quite the turn around from Ruxomar.

 Spark, it seemed, had either learned from the eventual disaster that was Ruxomar- not that he was there to see its final collapse- or wanted a change of pace, seeing as he founded Dagrun under a monarchy. To be fair, there weren’t many people around to start a kingdom.

 After Wag exchanged conversation with the secretary and was waved towards the back, he found Spark. His office was small with a full window alongside one wall and a desk with neatly organized papers set up in multiple stacks. He sat behind the desk, pondering over a sheet laid before him, reading it with careful eyes.

 He looked up at Wag’s entrance, a polite smile forming on his face. “What brings my daughter’s favorite wizard around today?” Spark stood, moving around the desk to offer a handshake in greeting.

 “Oh, only Martha’s? Not yours?” He took the hand, trying to give a firm shake despite his nerves. “I came here to see if you knew of Martha’s whereabouts. I have something I need to talk to her about.”

 Spark took a step back. “Ah, she just stepped out to grab some records from the Record Hall. She’ll be a few minutes at least.” He moved back to his desk, motioning for Wag to sit in one of the guest chairs.

 Wag sank into it quickly.

 If Spark could see he was nervous, he said nothing. But Wag was sure it radiated off of him, from the way his fingers drummed against his legs, to how he would look at the door every so often, to how he kept shifting in his chair. He’d thought the walk and quiet pondering over the town’s brief history would help.

 It didn’t.

 Still, they sat in silence. Outward silence. His thoughts fought to be heard, to break out from the delicate prison he’d pushed them into when he steeled himself to potentially see Martha here, next to Spark.

 “Can I ask you something?” Wag blurted out. Spark looked up. “If you’re- if you’re not busy, that is.”

 He set aside his pen- something he’d carried from Ruxomar- and gave him an inviting wave.

 “What’s the difference between loving someone and being devoted to them?”

 Wag bit his lip as Spark mulled over an answer.

 “That depends,” he said, after a moment. “What kind of love and what kind of devotion?”

 Wag could see in his eyes that Spark knew what he meant, but was giving him space to elaborate on his issue.

  He has to know, right? What I’m about to do.  

 “Devotion to,” Wag took a breath, “To your goddess versus the love you have for her.”

 Spark stretched and sat back in his seat, relaxed. “It’s based in different things. Devotion is based on a shared belief, a shared idea. I followed,” Spark swallowed hard, “My goddess because I, too, believed in the balance she stood for, and the peace it upheld.”

 He swiveled the chair half-way around to gaze out the window. “I loved her because of who she was. Her laugh, her smile, her energy and joy and spirit and how she’d get that sparkle in her eye when she’d see me, a mix between something soft and something loving and-”

 He clears his throat, clearly holding back emotion. “I loved her because she was everything right in the world. In my world.”

 Wag did not mean to open up something this heavy for Spark. But he wasn’t done with his questions.

 “Did being in a relationship affect how you followed her?” He shoved his hands underneath his thighs to stop from fidgeting.

 “Yes. And no.” Taking a moment to compose himself, Spark swept his eyes across the landscape, the solid silhouette of Jerry’s Tree in the background. “After getting together, I was devoted to her in the sense of any typical boyfriend; I doted on her, did romantic things with her, the whole shebang. In terms of being her follower and champion, I knew when to be professional and to act upon our shared belief system. It took practice to not let one bleed into the other, but I made it work.”

 Though Spark wasn’t looking, Wag nodded.

 “How.” He cleared his throat. “What would be the best way to... separate that? To pull apart your devotion and your relationship so they don’t affect each other?”

 Spark turned back to him, his figure highlighted by the glow from outdoors, creating a regal picture of a tired, broken old man. “Separate them? You don’t. You can’t. It’s impossibly hard to have the maturity to stop your feelings from changing how one part of your relationship goes.”

 “To be a lover means to be ready to defend your partner at all costs, just as you would a champion. To be a champion means to love your goddess to the ends of the world, just as you would a lover. Devotion and love are centered from different places, but once your feelings in them cross they cannot be unlinked.”

 “But they’re not the same.” Now Spark was starting to get confusing and muddled to Wag. “

 You just said so! Loving someone can come in different forms. You can love your goddess and not be in love with her.”

 “But you still love her, regardless of which side you love through. Champion, partner, it's all love. If you let them slide together, they die together. What’s the difference? What creates that gap?” Spark had a glint in his eyes, now, something removed from the quiet, tender sadness from before.

 “There’s a big difference!” Wag freed his hands to gesture wildly. “To love your partner is to cherish every moment with them, to be apart and still, somewhere in the back of your mind, be thinking of them. You see sweets, or goodies, or just nice things and think about if they’d like them, or you see the soft purple of lilac and think of their hair, or wander past a library and think of spells and sitting up late at night pouring through books. Or-”

 He threw his arms up. “Loving your goddess is different, I think. I’ve never followed one before this. I followed a god without any care for that god. I didn’t even really follow him, we followed something adjacent to him.”

 “And,” Wag breathed, “loving your goddess is like seeing the value in what they preach. Like.” He was frustrated now. Didn’t he just tell him that love and devotion came from different things? If that was the case, how did being a champion in a relationship with your goddess stop that from being different things? “Like how you devote yourself to an idea!”

 Spark raised an eyebrow. “So? You devoted yourself to the idea of being in a relationship with her, you crossed that divide and filled it in.”

 “But I didn’t! I just built a bridge over it and tried to figure out which side I was on.”

 “Which side are you on?”

 “I don’t know!” Wag was starting to breathe heavily. It was like every moment he had built up his confidence to cut it off with Martha was being uprooted like grass in a plowed field. “I just don’t want to be in the middle anymore.”

 Spark watched him silently. He wasn’t going to give Wag a break this time.

 “It’s terrible.” Wag continued, quieter. “Being stuck between the desire to stick by her side and protect her and the desire to be right beside her and love her, and hold her, and be the one person who can always make her laugh.”

 He looked away, towards a wall with an older oil painting. “But that’s the thing. I don’t have to choose. We chose on our own without knowing. We drifted away, lost to our own problems and grief. The bridge back to her side is broken and torn and I don’t think I have the strength left in me to repair it.”

 “Don’t have the strength, or are scared to?”

 “Both! Neither? Fuck, I just.” Wag shook his head, trying to rattle his thoughts enough to make sense. “I can’t promise that if I do fix things they won't break again, weather down and fall away under my negligence. And I’m afraid of what would happen if I let things get that bad again.”

 “Fear is natural.” Spark eyed him up and down. “But you can’t let it get in the way of your life.”

 “It’s not. I swear it isn’t. But we feel fear for a reason and that’s to stop us from making poor decisions.”

 “But sometimes fear is a knee-jerk reaction, what you feel when you’re uncertain or when things change around you and you’re not ready for it.”

 “I’m not,” Wag whispered. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder. “I’m not ready for change. And that’s ok. It’d be better to take a step back and see what I need to do to be ready and to adapt, rather than to try and go arm deep into whatever mess comes my way because I’m afraid of losing everything I love.”

 “Even if that means losing your relationship with Martha?”

 “I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.” And that was the truth. For all he cared about her romantically, he also cared about her as a friend. As someone who’d been through hell and back with her. You don’t just leave people like that behind.

 Spark nodded. “Then you know what you need to do.”

 Now that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “Wait.”  Did I just get lead on? “Was that whole conversation just a way to make me figure my shit out?”

 “I wouldn’t say it like that,” Spark was smoothing out the papers on his desk. “But yes, I did pull the conversation in a way that made you think about your decision. I wouldn’t contradict my own words without purpose.”

 “I doubt anyone does.” Wag rolled his eyes. “So you approve? Of me choosing to break up with Martha?”

 Spark looked up at Wag, already having grabbed his pen. There was a beat of silence. Wag started to sweat.

 After all of that, surely he does?  

 Silence.

  Right?  

 He felt like a kid that got sent to the principal’s office. Getting stared down by the head honcho that doesn’t want to see you in front of them but also doesn’t want to let you off easy.

 Still, he was scrutinized.

 Holy shit man.  

 Finally- finally!- Spark looked back down.

 “I’m impartial,” he said at last. “To be honest, it’s not my issue. While I do want the best for my daughter, she is a grown woman. You are a grown man. My approval shouldn’t matter here.”

 Wag relaxed. He had a point.

 Spark shook his head, signing off on a document and moving it aside. “I had the same doubts about my relationships when I was your age. That was before-” he coughed. “-you know, and when I still fancied this lovely lady from my hometown. We’d been going strong for a while, but I was dedicated to my faith and she was not interested in faith at all.”

 He tsked. “We wouldn’t have worked out at all, no matter how much I cared for her. Still kept in touch until,” Spark gave a pointed look around, “This happened.”

 “Okay, grandpa.” Ah, yes, he definitely wanted to hear about Spark’s love life.

 A thought struck him.

 “Now wait a second, when you were ‘my age’?” Wag glanced over Spark. “I’m older than you.”

 Spark chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m sure we can both see I’m older than you.” He tilted his head to the side. “See that gray? That’s age and stress. Enjoy your youth while you have it.

  “I’m a wizard.”

 A narrowing of the eyes.

 “I’ve been a wizard.”

  He sat back in his chair.

 “I’ve been a wizard for a long time.”  

 Spark turned his gaze back to his documents. “You must be pulling my leg.”

 “No, sir, I am not.” Wag was fidgeting again, this time bored. “I think I’m a little over a century old? Maybe more.”

 “I can understand you being a wizard, but there’s no way minor magic- non-divine magic- could extend your life.”

 “I killed a god to become a wizard.”

 Wag stared Spark down with a straight deadpan. Spark’s mouth worked at a response.

 He’d never get one.

 “So I didn’t find any proof of purchase document for Lichens- ah, hello Wag.” Martha stopped dead in the doorway, face stuck between surprised, pleasant, and a flicker of discomfort. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?”

 Well. It seemed Martha found him.

 Now that they were both staring at him, Wag felt far too exposed. He tugged at his hood. It was already as low as it could go on his head. That didn’t make him feel any better.

 So he opted for a smile instead. “I needed to talk to you about something Martha.”

 She exchanged a glance with Spark, who had a thoughtful look in his eyes. It was the kind of look that said they’d talked about him before. And, based on the look he gave Wag in turn, it was not a very positive kind of talking.

 Oh dear fuck.

 Martha gave him a shy smile. “Can it wait? I need to wrap this up real fast. Then, after that, I should be free for a bit.”

 It couldn’t. If it did, it would never happen. Wag knew it wouldn’t. From the way his heart stuttered to the way his hands shook, he knew that if he gave himself the time to back out he’d take it. And as much as he didn’t want to make an ass out of himself by saying no, wouldn’t trapping them both in this be worse? Keeping the two of them together to pretend that things were going well?

 No, it couldn’t wait.

 The words, however, stuck in his throat. He shook his head. Took a breath. “I’m sorry, it really can’t.”

 Martha took it in stride. “Alright. This must be important to you, let me set this down and I’ll be right out.” She motioned him to wait outside the door.

 Wag took the opportunity. Once safely in the hallway, alone, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

 Calm down.  

 It wasn’t like he was signing his life away. Or like he was telling Martha he killed her dad. They were just breaking up.

 But it felt like it was more than that. It felt like he was betraying her, like all those promises he made were for nothing. Hadn’t he said he’d follow her to the end of the line? That he’d be her champion? What would become of that if he broke up with her?

 Where did devotion and love meet and where did they separate?

 Wag wasn’t sure anyone knew. It was a challenge to be in love with a goddess.

 The sound of the door swinging open caught his attention. Martha stepped out, smoothing her shirt out. She caught his eye and sent him a smile. He gave a shaky one back.

 “Gee, Waggles,” That nickname hit something soft in his chest, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were going to break up with me.”

 Fucking shit.  

 He sat silent as his mind fell down a flight of stairs.

 Martha caught on. “You, you are, aren’t you?”

 Her eyes were wide, now, and Wag wasn’t sure how to follow that up. This was not going as he’d planned. Except, he hadn’t really planned it so much as made a vague idea about how he was going to.

 Get your shit together man, now's the time.  

 “Yes.” His voice strained and he cleared his throat. “I am.”

 Before she could get in a word, he pushed onward. “And it’s not because I don’t love you. I do. I love you so, so much. I’d follow you to the ends of the world, spread your name as your champion until my voice ran out, I would-” He stopped himself. This was supposed to be a break up. “I would do a lot for you.”

 He took a deep breath.

 “But I’m not what you need.”

 His heart was free falling, bouncing between his hard and fast love for Martha and his desire to be loved. Between knowing they weren’t good for each other- not anymore- and wishing that they could be.

 “What are you talking about?” Martha’s voice, though she kept her volume level, was thick with emotion. “Of course you are. I love you so much Wag, what would I do without you?”

 “I’m not!” He swallowed heavily. “You don’t love me the same. I don’t love you the same. Haven’t you seen it? How we never see each other? How we can’t be around each other without walking on eggshells? How it feels like there’s someone missing that I could never replace?”

 Martha had loved Steve so much. And she’d loved Wag. But after everything, he’d realized that they’d grown apart. That for all they loved each other, they didn’t.

 Wag took a brave moment to look Martha in the eyes. Her tears were held back by pure willpower and rapid blinking. Her mouth was set in a thin line. For all she was trying to keep her cool it was breaking at the seams.

 She was quiet. Wag could practically feel the storm of thought and emotion rolling off of her. A whisper. “You’re right.”

 He held his breath.

 “You’re right. You can’t replace him. No one can. But you don’t have to. Why can’t I just love you and him both? What’s wrong about that?”

 No, no, no. That wasn’t his point at all.

 “You can.” His voice was just as low. “Of course you can, there’s nothing wrong with that. But you’re letting your love for him get in the way of us. Your grief, your longing, your bone deep aching for him is all you see when you’re with me, isn’t it?”

 “No!” Martha looked away. “Yes. Kind of. No. I don’t look at you and see Steve. I look at you and see you and I think about how much it would hurt to lose you. Like I lost Steve. How much you mean to me, how much he meant to me.”

 She had closed her eyes now, putting her hand over her mouth.

 “I miss him so much. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. There are days were I long to go home and see him, to be able to hold him again. But I remember that he’s not there. The thought of going home without him feels awful.”

 Wag was torn, again. He felt awful to make Martha talk about this, to make her relive every time she missed Steve, mourned Steve. But on the other, this was where they were falling apart.

 “I’m not innocent in this, I must admit.” He started slowly. She looked back at him, tears on the verge of falling. “I feel like I’ve lost everything. My old life, my fellow wizards, the world I used to know.” Wag couldn’t meet her eyes on the next sentence. “My powers. They haven’t come back.”

 “And I’ve drawn away from everyone and everything. Even you. And as easy as it would be to blame you for us falling apart, that’s not fair to you or to your grief. But we can’t keep killing ourselves like this.”

 Martha had wrapped her arms around herself now. She pushed her chin up. “You’re right. Again. This dance we’ve been performing, it’s gone on long enough hasn’t it?” A wet laugh. “We can fix this now, fix,” she gestured between them, “Us. Now that we’ve pulled the facade away. That’s the first step, right? Taking down the act.”

 Wag shook his head. He wanted to. So badly. To let this be the start of something better, to remake what they had. But the roots were rotten, not just the tree. Even if they cut off every dead branch, they’d only die out again.

 “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready to try again.” His voice wavered. If he could cry he would.

 All he had were tears of blood, ever streaming.

 She was quiet. Then she bowed her head. “I understand. And I’d need time, too, if we were to try again.”

 The conversation fell off, but it didn’t feel resolved. Wag pushed up the energy to ask one last question.

 “Will I- will I still be your champion?” It was a dangerous question. And yet, still not the one he needed to ask.

 Martha appraised him. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to deal with my champion being a recent ex.” Nonetheless, she gave him a watery smile. “I’ll let you know when I make a decision.”

 Wag nodded. Already, she was piecing herself back together. Faster than he ever could.

 She went to turn away, opening her mouth to say one last thing, but Wag interrupted her. “Will we still be friends after this?”

 A laugh, real this time. “Of course.” She shook her head fondly. “Goodbye Wag. Until we meet again.”

 “Until we meet again.”

 Martha made her way back inside, most likely about to tell Spark the news.

 He felt detached from the world, thoughts echoing farther and farther away with each step Martha took. His eyes tracked her, watching how her hair moved, the grace in her stride- even has her body shook with hurt. Her neatly pressed and clean clothes, changed up from what she had worn in Ruxomar. A breathable, white silk long-sleeved shirt and dark leggings.

 From the way her fingers curved in an elegant arch against her thighs to how her shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before the door closed behind her. In his head he could see her eyes sparkling, a lovely lavender to match her hair. He could hear her laugh, her voice, see her radiant smile that he always sought to draw out.

 Wag could feel the floor disappear out from under him, feel himself sinking into the void. Empty, empty, empty. A chapter of his life was over, now. And it was by his own hand. For all he had feared change, he had caused it.

 Was this better or worse?

 A quiet, muted drip caught his attention. The world blurred back in. Wag looked down. A tiny, pink-ish speck on the floor. Another joined it with a plop. A shaking hand rose to his cheeks. Still bloody, but when he pulled it away it was also pink-ish. Runnier.

 Tears.

 He wanted to laugh. Instead, he strode out of the Town Hall, finding the familiar path home in a daze. A pink trail of bloody tears followed him.

 He was going to miss her.

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found (Chapter 12)

Warnings: there is smut in this. Pure filth. Because that’s what the muse wanted.

tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007 @hemmyworthy

Four hours later Esme finds herself in the kitchen. Barefoot in denim shorts and simple white t-shirt, up to her elbows in soap and water as she scrubs the dinner dishes. Tyler works alongside of her; unusually quiet (even for him) as he dries the items waiting in the drainboard. It is these moments of normalcy that they have learned not to take for granted. That easy, smooth way that they work side by side even during the most mundane of tasks. They have never had to resort to mindless chit chat; their silences had always been comfortable, never awkward. Meshing right off the hop. Easily able to read each other's cues, recognize one another’s body language, allow their eyes and their facial expressions to do the communicating if need be. In the five days they'd worked side by side, they'd become very much in tune with one another.  Their very different skill sets playing off each other well.

And there had been the other aspect as well. Giving in to that sexual tension and suffocating need for physical contact. To feel alive again. To be reminded that they were worthy. That they were broken, but still good.

A year ago they were in entirely different places; he in that rundown shack of a house in the outback as she floated from motel to motel, working her way through North America. Spending an extended amount of time in New York City,  subletting a quaint little studio apartment in lower Manhattan.

A week before they'd met she'd started packing up her things and putting them into storage. Nik had tracked her down through G and offered her a job. She'd have her choice on where she wanted to settle down. The Big Apple wasn't on that list. Her plan had been to repeat the nomad lifestyle of living out of suitcases and ending up wherever life and the job took her. She'd been doing it since leaving the corps and it had become second nature to her. As if it were normal and everyone did it.

I have a job for you, she can hear Nik's voice as clear as day. I need some intel work done. An inside person. A drug dealer in Dhaka has kidnapped another dealer's kid. Information is slow coming. I need you to go there and get your pulse on things. Make friends with the locals. Get them to trust you. Word has it he's being held in or around the market area. But there's a catch. And I need you to trust me when I say I know it sounds crazy but I know it's going to work.

The next day she was on a helicopter heading for Australia. Out into the middle of nowhere to meet 'the catch'.

Only Nik hadn't told her 'the catch' was as insanely attractive as he was. Or as haunted and broken. He was an immensely private person; tortured by the bad decisions and the demons of his past. And she'd been intrigued by him. By the mystery that surrounded him. By the walls that he'd built up around himself. He was an enigma. A challenge. And she had found herself captivated by those brilliant blue eyes, that sad smile, and that voice. Low and steady, his accent dripping off every syllable. Physically he was a tall, cool drink of water on a hot summer day. Pleasing. Refreshing. But it was the way in which he carried himself that had drawn her in. Confident. Not cocky.  A man that lived on the edge and showed no fear.

A death wish, Nik had told her on the way home.  It's why he takes the jobs he does. It's not really the money. It's the hope that one day, the job is going to take him out. That it will make it all end.

A month later she was out of the job. Just as abruptly as she had gotten into it. Back in Australia and in charge of handing over possession of that shack in outback to one of Tyler's friends while he himself teetered between life and death in that hospital.  She'd found herself wandering down a new and often terrifying path. Starting an entirely new existence with the help of Nik and the surviving members of the tea.  A new life in a new country in a small two bedroom bedroom apartment. Spending the majority of her waking hours -a lot of her sleeping ones- at his bedside.

Four weeks after that she started feeling sick. Rundown. Taking the nausea, the headaches, the fatigue, and even her missed cycles, as signs of stress.

Until two little pink lies had told her otherwise.

She had bought the test on a sheer whim. A lineup in the hospital pharmacy bringing her directly into the aisle where they were store. She'd grabbed one, and hadn't even given it a second thought until later that evening and she'd gone into shopping back for something she'd needed.  And she can vividly remember sitting there on that cold porcelain toilet in the washroom connected to his private room. Barely thinking about that test that now lay on the sink ledge. There were too many other things to think about it. She couldn't remember when she had her last meal. Her last shower. Her family was leaving her strings of endless text messages and emails demanding to know where she was. Who she was with. Was she okay? It was too much. All too much. There was already an overwhelming heap of sadness and worry on her plate. Why would whatever higher power (if there was one) just add something else.

And then there it was. Her new reality staring her in the face. Things were already serious enough, and now there was a whole other layer being added. There was a life growing inside of her. During all that craziness in Dhaka....within those four dirty motel walls...she had had a hand in creating another human being.

She can even remember his face when she'd told him. The lucid moments were more frequent by then.  The amount of pain medication being pumped into him had let up and he was conscious more often than not. Still struggling with remembering all of the details of what happened. Things were hazy; he wasn't sure if he was recalling things that actually happened or if it was what he had wanted to happen so his brain was manifesting them as actual memories.  He  could vividly recall everything up to the moment that he'd been shot in the neck. He could even remember the sensation of choking on his own blood and feel it seep between his fingers. He was fairly certain he'd made it to the sidewalk along the bridge.  But after that...nothing. Nothing concrete and clear anyway.  

He still hadn't had a lot of strength. He grew tired and weak easily. But he would smile. Even laugh. He'd even bitch at her when she'd attempt to trim his beard and keep it under control.  And he'd wrap her in his arms and pull her down onto the bed with him and he'd hold her. They wouldn't talk.  She'd just lie there in his embrace as he played with her hair. Her head on his chest, listening to his heart.

Some days, they'd go for walks. He'd refuse to use a wheelchair, even on the days where he felt the most pain and the most weakness following his knee surgery. He hated feeling helpless. Weak. And she'd always try to ensure him that he wasn't any of those things. What he was, was alive. Recovering. And that's what mattered the most.  

It had been on one of those walks that she'd told him about the baby. Sitting on a bench when he needed a break and a chance to rest the knee.  And the sun had been high in the sky and the breeze had been crisp and fresh and the sounds and sights of live continued around them as she dropped probably the second biggest bombshell of his life on him.  It was the first time a silence between them had been agonizing. And she'd been screaming internally at him. To say something. Anything. To tell her that this wasn't the worst thing that could happen.  That this wasn't the end of the world. That this was just another thing that they'd get through together.

He had just stared at her. Shell shocked. Things had happened quick between them. They hadn't had time to catch their breath. And they hadn't wanted to fight it.  

“You're sure?” he'd finally asked, and it wasn't until he spoke that she became aware that she was crying. She usually kept tears to herself. She didn't like him seeing her in that kind of state. She had to be the stoic and solid one now, after all.

She told him about how she'd been feeling. The nausea. The migraines. The inability to sleep. The missed periods. She should have started just after the events in Dhaka. But it had never arrived and she'd just assumed that her body was in shock over everything that had went down.

Then he'd said the single most hurtful thing she'd ever had anyone say to her in her entire life. She'd tried to remind herself that this was all happening so fast. Too much, too soon. What did they really know about each other outside of the walls of that crappy motel? They'd jumped head first into...something. It couldn't really be called a relationship, yet casual sex didn't seem serious enough.  They were falling in love with one another. But they weren't in love. Not yet.

“Is it mine?”

She had wanted to slap him. She'd wanted to wrap her hands around his throat and strangle him. But she didn't blame him for asking. She understood his trepidation. If she'd fall into bed with him that easily, what's to say it wasn't a reoccurring behaviour for her?

When they'd been holed up in the motel she'd told him about her failed marriage. About her ex husband and his issues and the torment and torture he'd brought into her life. And on that bench she told him that she hadn't been with anyone besides him in over a year.  That sex had never been an overwhelming need.

Until she met him.

“You don't have to stick around,” she'd told him. “I don't expect that from you. If this isn't what you want...if I'm not what you want...you just have to say it, Tyler. I won't hate you. I'll walk away and I'll never bother you again. You don't have to be a part of this.”

Those normally brilliant blue eyes had immediately clouded over. His mouth setting into a grim line.

“Is that really what you think of me? You think that little of me? That I'd do something like that? That I'd just let you walk away?”

“You already have a lot on your plate. You're healing. It's going to take a long time. And you don't need me being in your way. You don't need me hindering you.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” his eyes had narrowed, his voice low. Almost menacing. “Is that really what you think? You think I don't want you here? You think I look at you like some kind of obstacle in my way? The only reason I'm doing this...the only reason I held on and I keep hanging on...is because of you. For you.”

That had made her cry even harder. And her face had dropped into his chest; his fingers burying in her hair as he held her to him.

“I love you,” he'd said. It was the first time he had let those words come out. He'd later confess that he'd been feeling them since the beginning. Maybe not love itself. But the realization that he was falling in love.  “I love you and everything is going to be okay. We're going to be okay.”

She'd cried into his chest. Telling him that she loved him. That she hadn't meant to fall in love with him. Maybe it shouldn't have happened. Dhaka hadn't been the ideal place to meet the love of your life.  But it had. And she didn't regret that.

For a long time, neither of them had spoke. They'd just sat on that bench as she clung to him and he consoled her. And then he'd gently yanked on her hair in an effort to get her to look up at him.  Those blue eyes had been sparkling again. There was a smile...a genuine smile...curving his lips.

“We're having a baby,” he'd said. “I'm going to be a dad.”

They have never taken things slow. It simply wasn't in their nature. After that first night in Dhaka, they never looked back.  They'd given into lust. The promise of something new. Empowered by the realization that someone wanted them. Needed them. That maybe...just maybe...their two broken halves could make a slightly dented whole.

****

“How'd it go today?” he asks now, as he stands behind her and reaches over her to place dishes on the higher shelf. “Your little girls day.”

“Good. It was fine. It was nice to forget about everything else for a while.”

When she'd gotten home, she'd run that photograph of Farhad through the paper shredder. Covering her tracks. Something she'd become good at thanks to the job. But the rule of thumb was that no matter how smart and cunning you thought you were, there was always someone smarter and far more cunning.

And that person is Tyler Rake.

She watches the way his hands move as he does something so simple as drying cutlery. They're big. Powerful. Calloused palms, long, thick fingers, scarred and swollen knuckles, and wide wrists that lead into muscular forearms.  And she notices...obviously not the first time...just how attractive he actually is. Those eyes. That mouth. The way his hair falls over his right eye. The scars and the tattoos. All mixing together to create on hell of a man.

“You're staring at me,” he says, snapping out of her reverie. A grin playing on his  lips.  “That's creepy. Stop being a creeper.”

“Dick head,” she retorts, and flicks soap and water at him.

He's mocking her. Playfully, of course. Using the exact words she'd tossed at him during their first massive blow up in Dhaka at year ago. When she'd disappeared from his sight in the market after he'd distinctly told her not to leave his side.

“I told you to stay right next to me,” he'd roared. “I told you not to wander off on your own. That I wanted to be able to see you. At all times. That I wanted to be able to feel you beside me. To even smell your hair if it comes down to it.”

“Is that what you've been doing while I'll sleep?” she'd shot back. “Smelling my hair? That's creepy. Don't be a fucking creeper, Rake.”

She'd meant it as a joke. To break the tension. But it had only made things worse. And the floodgates opened and all the pent up rage just came exploding out of them. His hand wrapping around her neck and his fingers digging into her throat, his eyes menacing as he backed her up against a wall.

“Do you think this a fucking game? Does it look like I'm fucking joking?”

The fight had been intense. His anger raw. And he'd been powerless to contain it.  Or what happened when it had transformed into something so much more.  Greedy hands pulling at each other's clothes. Hungry, needy kisses. His hands biting and bruising as he took her right there and then up against that wall.

****

She clears her throat noisily and fights the urge to splash cold water on her face. Her hormones have been out of control. Especially within the last week. He's always had a powerful effect on her. It took for very little effort on his behalf to rile her up. But this level of intensity...this level of need...was something she'd never experienced before.

“Admiring,” she corrects. “Not staring. I was admiring. In case you haven't noticed, you're pretty easy to look at.”

“Yeah?” he steps behind her once again, an arm circling her waist. Palm against her stomach, drawing her tight against him. He drops his head, his hair and the tip of his nose brushing against the nape of her neck. And he feels her shiver against him when he presses his groin against her ass.

He can't help but smirk.

So easy. It's always been so easy.

“You're not too hard to look at yourself,” he says, his breath hot against the back of her neck.  He's feeling it too. It's always been intense between them. The sex incredible. But since the decision to return to Dhaka, the desire and the longing and the desperate need had only increased. He couldn't get enough. Didn't want to ever get used to getting enough. Afraid that at this time next week, one of them may not even exist anymore.

He swallows heavily and closes his eyes. Desperately trying to rid himself of those thoughts. They'd come this far.  They'd gotten through some serious shit. There was nothing that could possibly come between them now.  He nuzzles his face in her hair; inhaling the sweet of the sweet, fruit scented shampoo she favours. Committing that smell to memory.

Just in case.

His mouth is  soft and warm against the back of her neck. Feathery kisses that make her shiver and her pulse quicken.  And his hand slides from her stomach to her stomach; both palms gliding over the cheeks of her ass before bringing one of his hands down in a ringing, stinging slap. A smirk on his face as she bucks against him, his fingers roughly grabbing at the spot he'd hit.

“You're a fucking dick!” she exclaims, wincing, struggling to turn around to face him. “That hurt. Fuck you, Tyler.”

He uses his body weight to pin her in place, sliding a hand between her legs. Feeling the heat and the moisture that pools there, even through the fabric of her shorts and the panties she wears underneath.

“That's exactly what I want to do,” his voice rumbles deep within his chest. “Fuck.”

****

They make it as far as the living room. Clothes hastily discarded, forming a trail behind them. With the baby asleep, and Nik and the rookie back at their hotel for a remote final strategies meeting with the team, they once more have the run of their own place His hands are rough and needy as they explore her body. He knows every inch by heart; every secret little spot that, when manipulated, drove her insane. He can remember the early days; that fascination and wonder that comes with getting to know someone elses body. With learning what they liked, and showing them things that they'd never experienced before. It had been that way for him. After his first marriage had broken up and he sworn off ever going down that road again, he'd had his fair share of hook ups; randoms he met in bars, friends of friends, women in different countries that -if he was in town- he could call up for no strings attached sex. Esme had been the opposite. Two men before him. Including her ex husband. So Tyler had taken it upon himself to show her exactly what she'd been missing.

Her body is softer now. Her hips wider. She's had a baby. His baby. And while it's familiar, it's still exquisite. A beautiful wonderland that only he gets to visit. And he still worships it...and her...as much as he did when they first met.  And as often as he can.

He stands above her as she lays sprawled on the couch, ready and waiting. Chest heavy, his eyes hooded as they take in every inch of her. Those dark eyes filled with desire, the flushed cheeks, those full supple breasts with their rock hard nipples. Stroking his own cock as he watches her playing with her clit. Exactly like he told her to. Growing even harder when her eyes close low and her head falls back, a long, tortured moan escaping her lips.

“No,” he says, when he senses she's close, and he yanks her hand from between her legs.  “I get to do that.”

She reaches for him but he shoves her hand away.

“Sit up,” he orders. “Back against the couch.”

She does as she is told. The perfect little submissive that she is. He gets off on it. Knowing just what he can get away with.  The kind of punishment that he can not only inflict on her, but that she can actually take. No woman had ever given him that kind of freedom with their body.  None had ever had that pure, blind trust in him.

He tenderly cups her cheek his hand, turning her face up towards him as he kisses her. Soft. Sweet. His other hand still tending to his direction, and he backs away when her fingers come in contact with him.

“Not yet,” he tells her, and then drops to his knees between her thighs. Sliding his hands between her and the couch in order to grab her by the ass, yanking her forward to give him access to what he really wants.

She gives a small cry the second the tip of his tongue makes contact with her clit. Bathing it with long, agonizingly slow licks that has her toes curling and her back arching. His fingers biting into the soft flesh of her ass when when he uses his tongue to penetrate her; jerking himself off as he tongue fucks her. Using it in the same way he could his cock. Spurred on by the obscene noises that are escaping are mouth and the fingers that are scraping across his shoulders.  

“Tyler...” she whimpers, and her hands are in his hair and her hips are rising from the couch to match every move of his tongue. “...shit...fuck...Tyler...”

And when he knows she's close...when he knows she's teetering right on that edge...he abruptly stops. Leaving her a near sobbing, panting mess as his hand drops away from his cock and he stands.

“Get up,” he demands. “I want you to get up.”  

Her legs are trembling. Weak. And he gently grabs a hold her arms and helps her to feet, pulling her into him a for a long kiss. The tip of his tongue briefly touching hers before gliding along the roof of her mouth.

“I want you to ride me,” he says. As if she has a choice in the matter. This is his game. He's in charge. And she never resists when he is. “I want you, to fuck me.”

She nods in understanding, and he runs a hand through her hair and grabs a hold of the tresses. A firm hold. But not hard enough to hurt. Just enough pressure to pull her head back so she looks at him.

He smiles. It's soft. Reassuring. They've been playing these games for almost a full year now.  She knows he'd never hurt her. That with the simplest word or the hint of discomfort, he would stop.  She trusts him. Maybe too much at times. An almost blind faith that both flatters and frightens him.

It's his turn to sit on the couch. Thighs splayed, his hand finding his own cock again. The other reaching out for her, resting on the small of her back and giving her that extra sense of security as she straddles him. Those small hands resting first on his shoulders and then sliding down onto his chest. He guides her with that hand on her back and the other around his erection, lining it with that warm, moist, welcoming entrance.

“Fuck...” It's his turn to groan, eyes closing and head falling back as she sinks down onto him.  And she pushes her hips forward, a movement that has him bottoming out inside of her.  And he releases more profanities and a low hiss when her nails dig in; scraping down his chest and over his nipples.

She pushes her torso forehead, and laying a hand on the back of his head, pulls him forward. His face buried between the valley of her breasts as begins to ride him. Slow, smooth movements that is torturous for them both. His hands slid up her thighs and over her hips. Up her back to her shoulders. And he takes one of those hard nipples into his mouth. Rolling it along his tongue before stepping up his game; fingers pressing into the soft skin of her shoulders as he aggressively sucks. And she moans at the sensation, her fingernails digging into his scalp as she moves faster.

His hands drop to her hips, removing his face from her chest and allowing his head to fall back onto the couch cushion. Sweat beads on his brow and at his temples. His chest heaves from the work it takes just to hold back. Allowing her to have this moment. Where she is the one in control. Temporarily giving her that power.

She smiles down at him and kisses him; her teeth painfully digging into his bottom lip when she pulls away.  

“You like this, yeah?” he asks, as he fights to keep his hips still “You like being in charge, don't you.”

She nods, and drops her head into the space between his neck and his shoulder. Where she kisses, licks, and nibbles at the side of his throat and bulging trap muscle.

“Jesus...fuck...” he winces when her teeth dig in. Hard enough to break the skin. And that signals the end of their little game. It's time to take that control back. He wasn't a submissive man. He never could be. Never will be. And curling an around around her waist, yanks her off of him and tosses her onto the couch.

“Kneel...” he orders, and she's watching him over her shoulder and running the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip as she does so.  He smirks, loving that innocent look she gives him. Those huge eyes and her hair wild and tumbling over her shoulders and swaying against the sides of her face. “...fucking do as I say,” he snarls, when she hesitates. “...I'm in charge here. Got it? I said fucking kneel.”

He snatches her by the hips, positing her exactly where he wants her, using his own knee to push her legs apart.

“Down...” he lays a hand on the back of her head, pushing her face into the back cushion of the couch.  “...just do as I fucking say, alright?”

She nods.

“What? I didn't hear you.”

“Yes. I'll do what you say.”

“Yes, you'll do what I say, who?”

“Tyler. Yes I'll do what you say, Tyler.”

“Wasn't so hard was it? Huh? What did I just ask you? I asked you if that was so hard. Was that hard to do?”

“No.”

“But you want it be, don't you.  You want something hard. Inside of you. Say it. Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

“I want it,” her body shudders as she talks, and she shoves her ass out towards him. “I want you.  I want you inside of me.”

“That's a good girl. Such a good girl,” he kisses his way down her spine, runs the tip of his tongue over the small of her back. Over that tattoo that she'd gotten when she was eighteen and regretted ever since. He'd laughed when he'd first seen it. Not because it was horrible. Far from it. But because she'd actually wanted to leave her shirt on so he wouldn't see it. Mortified at her teenage decision.

She shivers at the sensation of the cool air on her skin, and her eyes close and her head drops forehead as he pushes into her. Not the brutally hard thrust that she had expected. But slow and deliberate. Letting her feel each and every inch until his balls are settled against her ass.

“I love you,” he whispers against her back, a deviation from the stone cold and demanding persona he'd been just minutes before.  “I love you so much. And I can't lose you. I can't.”

She opens her mouth to tell him that she loves him. More than he could ever possibly comprehend. But all words are lost as he pulls out and then pushes back  in, listening to that low growl that he emits, feeling those fingers digging into her hips.

He says nothing more. Neither the calm and quiet Tyler or the rough and demanding one. The hand on her shoulder that holds her in place is gentle, barely touching her. And those fingers on her hip release their painful grip and his hand slides around to her stomach. He moves inside of her. Long, smooth strokes that she swears can feel the way into the pit of her stomach.

He grunts when she pushes her ass against him, and he reaches around to pull her hand away when she attempts to reach between her legs for that extra pleasure. Replacing her hand with his own, fingers easily finding her clit and rubbing deftly at it. Until her body begins to quake and her back stiffens. His name leaving her mouth in a sob that's muffled by the cushion underneath her.  

He continues to rub that painfully sensitive nub until he's coming as well.  His head falling forward, eyes closing, profanities spilling from his lips.

****

“You realize we're probably never coming back here, yeah?”

They lay in the middle of the living room floor. Naked bodies wrapped in the flannel throw that's kept on the back of the love seat. A cushion from the couch serving as a pillow.  Moonlight streaming through the patio door.

She raises her head from his chest to look at him. One of his arms wrapped around her, the other behind his head. Brow furrowed as he stares at the ceiling. She hates that look on his face. Dark. Intense. His adrenaline is starting to kick it up a notch, driven by the nerves and the bizarre sense of excitement that you feel before every job.  The softness in his features his gone.

This is the old Tyler. She recognizes him well.

And although she'd encouraged it, his emergence scares her. Just a bit. More for him than for herself. Even the old Tyler was trustworthy when it came to her. Protective. Almost too much so. He would never hurt her. But when it came to his own well being, he was reckless. And she was worried if he crossed that line, that she may never get him back.

She moves onto her side, propping herself up in her elbow. Side of her head resting in her palm as she watches and waits. Her free hand on his chest, fingertips softly gliding against his soft skin and over the scars that use his body as a canvas.

“You do realize that, right?” he finally looks at her. His eyes are hard. Lips set in a grim line.

“You mean come back here as in here here or as in...” she lets her voice drift away as he gives an annoyed scoff and looks away.

“I don't mean it that way. I don't mean death. I mean here as in Australia. As in this apartment. This room.”

This is definitely the old Tyler. The one that was easily aggravated if she said something he viewed as stupid. Or if she dared challenged his power and control over situations.

She lets it go. She feels the stress and the nerves and the fear herself. The old Tyler always struggled to express those kind of emotions. He was stoic and solid. He hid his true thoughts and his true feelings. Locking them deep down inside and throwing away the key. The new Tyler had worked hard to give over that. Struggling to learn how not to close himself off and push her away.

Their return to Dhaka is less than twelve hours away. A place that holds a lot of memories. Some good. Most bad.

Most horribly, horribly bad.

“There's no way we can come back here,” he continues, and as if doing battle with his former self, he closes his eyes and then opens them again. His arm relaxing around her, knuckles brushing against her shoulder.

 “This will never be finished,” he says. “Well and truly finished. For every one Asif we kill, ten more will pop up. And each one will learn about what happened. What we did. How Asif himself failed. They won't let that shame go. They'll avenge him. Six months from now, six years from now. It doesn't matter. There will always be someone that wants revenge.”

She remains silent. Fingers skimming along his chest and over his collarbone. Nails scrapping along the underside of his chin, palm coming to rest his cheek. And he turns his face into it, beard scraping against his skin, lips finding her palm.

“If they know our names and know where we are, we can't stay here,” he reasons. “It would never be safe. We'd always be looking over our shoulders. We'd always be jumping the second we hear something moving in the shadows. And I don't want that for you. Or our daughter.”

She finally speaks “What about for you?”

“That doesn't matter. It's my job to protect you. It's my responsibility to make sure you're safe. That she's safe. And I know neither of you ever will be if we stay here. What's happen if I'm not here? I can't be here twenty four seven. And that's when they'd make their move. When they know I'm not here. And I can't take that chance.”

She rubs the back of her hand along his jaw. The top knuckle of her index finger skimming over the scar underneath his right eye.

“You deserve better than that,” he says, as he struggles to contain the emotion that chokes at him. “So does the baby. You deserve better than this life. Better than me.”

She pushes his face towards her and silences him with a kiss. “Stop that,” she gently orders. “You're perfect for us. We're safe with you. I never doubt that. I never will.”

He manages a smile and lifts his head kisses her softly. One on the lips,  then the tip of her nose, followed by her forehead.

“Where will we go?” she asks, when he settles his head back onto the cushion. Her fingers now move to the chain around his neck, the pad of her index digit running along it.  

“Colorado.”

“You actually want to throw yourself into that? You really want to subject yourself to my family?”

“I would be nice to have a family. Outside of the three of us.”

“We have Nik. And the rest of the team.”

“That's a fucked of vision you have of a family.”

“Like I've said. You've never met my brothers. You might meet them and wonder what the fuck you were ever thinking. What kind of fresh hell you ever got yourself into.”

“They can't be that bad. And you need to go home. Your mom misses you. And I know you miss her. And your step dad.”

“I don't miss them enough to force you to be somewhere you don't want to be.”

“I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. You know that. It's what you practically did for me.”

“This isn't a competition, Tyler. You don't have to do something because you feel you have something to make up for. I didn't come here and stay here because you forced me to. I came here because you needed me. And I stayed because I love you.”

He smirks “Not to mention I knocked you up.”

“A surprising little turn of events, but yes. That too.”

“A good surprise,” the smile is softer now. “A very good surprise.”

“We could always go to New York City,” she muses, sighing wistfully at her memories of the Big Apple.

“Isn't that where Crocodile Dundee ended up? Isn't one Aussie enough?”

“Hmmm...yeah...you might be too much for even them to handle,” she teases. “There's always Boston. Boston was nice. Chicago wasn't bad. Or Texas. I enjoyed Houston, actually.”

“We could also move to Canada,” he suggests.

“Won't work. You hate hockey.”

“It's not that I hate it. I think it's stupid.”

“Bite your goddamn tongue, Tyler Rake. How dare you.”

“I also hate that shit that you tried to feed me once. With the french fries and the gravy and the pretend cheese.”

“That wasn't pretend cheese. It was cheese curds. Very much real cheese. And poutine is a delicacy, I will have you know. Just because you can be an uncultured swine...”

He chuckles, then wrapping an arm around her waist, hoists her up on top of him. His hands on her thighs as she straddles his hips.

“There's always the west coast,” she says, as runs his hands along over her knees and up her legs. “I didn't mind Seattle. They have great coffee. California would probably be the best fit for you. There's lots of beautiful beaches. You do love to surf.”

“Colorado,” he insists, his hands settling on her hips.

“There's mountains. And snow. You need beaches. The ocean. Surfing.”

“I don't need those things. I can live without those.”

“San Francisco is supposed to be nice. I've never been there but I hear it's decent. And they apparently have a good football team.”

“Let's not start that argument again, love. That is not fucking football. And I already said it. Colorado.”

“Los Angeles.”

He shakes his head. “Colorado.”

“San Diego.”

“Nope. Colorado,” he slowly stresses the word.

She sighs. “Why do you always have to be such a stubborn little shit?”

“Because I can. Because you let me get away with it. Because you love me enough not to strangle for me it.”

“Not yet anyway,” she leans down to kiss him, her hair falling over both of them,  brushing against his chest when she sits back up. “I know you think this is what I want. Going back there. But you don't have to do this.”

“I don't think it's what you want. I know it's what you need.”

“Since when did you become an expert on what I need?”

“You seemed to think I was an expert at knowing what you needed half an hour ago,” he teases, and then winces and laughs when she grabs the part of his beard under his chin and yanks. “Actually, I think I proved I'm an expert. At least at those things.”

“You're like a fourteen year old boy. Mind always in the gutter.”

“You blame me? You're sitting on me. Naked.”

“You put me here. And then you complain? That's fucking rude.”

Curling an arm around her, he unceremoniously drops her onto her back. “That better?” he asks, a hand on the floor beside her head as he bends down to kiss her.

“Much better,” she says against his lips, and then sighs into the kiss.

He pulls back to look at her. Giving her a wink. “Colorado.”

“You are an insufferable bastard, Tyler Rake.”

“I am,” he agrees. “But you love me.”

She smiles up at him. “Only on days that end in Y.”

“That's good enough,” he declares, and kisses her once more. Longer this time. More passionate. Pulling away with a wide grin. “Colorado.”

“You can be a real annoying little bastard,” she teases, as she pushes his hair out of his eyes “You always have to have the last word?”

“Always,” he says, giving her a wink and then kissing his way down her entire body.

No more words are needed.