#the process was definitely more loose and out of my comfort zone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asimplearchivist · 2 years ago

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𝓒𝓗. 𝓥 — [𓂧𓁷𓏏] (‘𝓭𝓗𝓻𝓽’ | 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ khonshu knows, logically, that your shared arrangement will not last forever—it cannot. such is the nature of humanity, to change on a whim. he realizes, however, that it is difficult to face.⤏ an unexpected boon granted from the child he’d blessed makes that concept complicated still. pairing ☽ khonshu/singlemom!avatar!reader word count ☾ 11.0k a/n ☽ [header credit] ⤏ this is one of those chapters that I struggled with greatly, if the length of time between updates is any indication. the first scene spilled forth effortlessly. the rest of it? like prying teeth. i am not one to utilize time skips to help with progressing plot because i feel it is over (and so often poorly) done, but due to the nature of this fic and its (admittedly loose) timeline in my mind, i will have to work out of my comfort zone and let it slide more than keep it rigid. hopefully the end result is halfway smooth. my apologies that it took so long—y’all’s comments really kept poking my conscience to get me going again. please enjoy! :) ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

Human courtship rituals had never made sense in ancient history, and they certainly didn't in the present day—even less so, perhaps.

What one culture might have found offensive, another regarded it as a necessity. Taboos and essentials abounded without any sense of rationality, nor any modicum of moderation. Such social constructs appeared difficult enough to navigate without accounting for the fickle natures of mortals with their own individual preferences. Everyone had a 'type', and everyone expected a certain list of behaviors to be demonstrated by suitors of that type—often without communicating such needs to their partner, expecting them to intrinsically know what to do, and when or how to do it.

The entire ordeal always seemed pointless to Khonshu. At the end of the process, no matter how varied, the result was the same: the humans copulated, and most produced children as a result of the union. Many realized that their partner was not as appealing as once anticipated or chose to deceive them, so splits in family units were common—though so much more in the past couple of centuries than ever before. Children were always torn in the tumult that such division wrought despite its necessity at times.

Khonshu had observed it time and again, this so-called "love" about which humans waxed so wistfully in endless records of poetry and songs and art, frequently the perpetrator of heartache and sorrow and war. It blinded and leached and crumbled anyone and anything it touched. Once he was called upon by new couples for assistance in starting families, to heal their loved ones or children, or to protect a traveling husband and father while journeying back to his home throughout the night. That alone wearied him, dealing with the outer echelons of matrimony and the like—he had never understood how his kin could deal so intimately in the very heart of those matters, as messy and complicated as such feelings grew to be, without feeling exhausted at all times.

Love wasn't simple. Love had layers and contexts and depths that Khonshu didn't care to traverse. It had no concrete definition, no factual basis. It was not his specialty by any means. The judgment and execution of justice had been his closest companion for over a millenia, and it was all he needed.

His proximity to the greatest folly of humanity had narrowed significantly, once he'd reduced his influence. Even still, countless avatars under his auspices had been inflicted by romantic inclination, often resulting in him having to turn them loose to pursue it to its fullest. A mortal with no one for whom to live was a useful implement, lacking attachment—a mortal devoted to another, and to those they may create, was always harder to hone and utilize. Past experience dictated that it was better to cut ties and seek out another mortal more suited to the role he would give them.

He knew it would be better to leave you now, before the turmoil of conflicting interests set in...but he couldn't quite fathom bringing himself to do so.

Khonshu sat wordlessly within a tall windowsill of a bleak, gray brick office building across the street from the multi-level, upper-class restaurant to which your unannounced courter had brought you, arms coiled around his folded knees with his staff gripped tightly in his hands against his shins. The cold winds, acquiescent to his dour mood, whipped through the street below, snarling and biting with frigid teeth at the tails of his tattered cloak. The humans milling about hunkered into their coats and scarves to stave off their shivers, but Khonshu remained deathly still as he peered through the broad glass windows spilling sultry golden light onto the glistening pavement. The gentleman had chosen a small booth flush with the view into the narrow stone garden lining the sidewalk, sitting across from you and leaning attentively forward as you chattered on with a smile. He had driven his vehicle with caution and had opened the doors of both his car and the building for you. You were clearly charmed, fingers coiled around the stem of your glass of wine, eyelashes cast low over your eyes, heart fluttering incessantly against the inside of your ribs—he could feel it as acutely as the odd, foreign tightness within his own chest.

Khonshu had followed from lamppost to banister to rooftop the entire drive into uptown London, withholding himself from your field of vision—you'd grown attuned to his presence while he remained in the astral realm (much to his chagrin), looking over your shoulder like a tense prey animal every time you sensed him near, but if he maintained a certain distance from you he seemed to be able to avoid your detection. He kept his magic as close as possible, folded carefully around himself in a shroud that would (hopefully) conceal him from your view.

Your "date" was a good-looking man, obviously wealthy, with a sincere interest in you—Khonshu could discern no evident wrongdoing in him, no lingering malice. You found him attractive, too, if your subconscious behaviors were any indication. Your clear apprehension had evaporated almost instantly with his disarming, genteel mannerisms. He would likely care for you, with ample room to spare for your child, given his experience with his own—he would unquestionably be able to see to your needs. After that man had ruined your marriage, you'd remained mostly independent, other than your reliance on Elizabeth—but Khonshu hadn't considered that you would potentially, eventually seek out another partner with whom to share your burdens.

Khonshu had no say in the matter. He knew, logically, that he should start seeking out another candidate to be his avatar. It was difficult enough for you to care for your son, maintain your occupation, and serve himself well into the wee hours of morning, all while maintaining your secret from your closest friend—entering a new relationship would be next to impossible to manage. He had favored you for far longer and had devoted more time and power to you than he had to any of his avatars in decades—the reason he'd chosen you to begin with was an unusual one, unconventional by the Ennead's standards. It was bound to unravel at some point. The sands of time would shift, and he would yet again be moving on to another human destined to dwindle away.

And yet...

Khonshu watched you head tilt with laughter, your hand rising to cover your mouth to stifle the noise. The gentleman's eyes shone as he watched, grinning from ear to ear. His fingertips brushed yours to the side of the small appetizer plate, ginger and shy. The boiling inferno brewing within the lunar god caused the ancient wood of his staff to creak dangerously under his unforgiving grip.

Khonshu hated getting involved in humans' personal affairs. He had given too much of himself away in the days of old attempting to garner dedication from his followers—oftentimes his efforts had been shortly forgotten, their faith and worship lost once their needs had been met. He owed them nothing, even if he relied upon them for what scant sustenance he gleaned from day to day—there was a reason that his kindred had all but abandoned humanity thousands of years ago. He ultimately owed you nothing, despite the unusual circumstances of him becoming intertwined into your life.

...And yet.

Khonshu continued to observe (to make sure you were truly safe, of course—it still was his job to protect you for the time being, after all, even if that time may have been unexpectedly cut shorter due to newly developing events). He watched the waitress bring out your entrees and refills for your drinks, watched you eat far more primly than you ever did in the comfort of your own home. The gentleman continued to prove himself responsible, at least—he opted for water after his first alcoholic beverage, since he was your chauffeur for the night. You did the same, for the sake of exercising caution.

Khonshu studied (not for the first time, though he wouldn't dare admit it to himself nor another soul) your features in the borderline otherworldly lighting: the glossy sheen of your hair framing your face, the curve of your cheek, the confident jut of your chin, the feathered, gossamer shadows cast by your lashes—all accented with a brazen splash from the interior of the restaurant against the heathery gloom seeping in through the window. Khonshu hadn't seen you dress in raiment any finer than your work uniforms or your loungewear, much less the soft pigments applied to your face, but you appeared rather fetching to the eye. The gentleman had definitely taken notice, if the frequent tugging at his buttoned collar was any indication.

Food consumed and water downed, the pair of you settled in over a dessert—two separate spoons delved into the same dish. Khonshu turned his attention to the man with a far more critical gaze, noting the tension in his shoulders paired with the tightness in the corner of his mouth. Where minutes before he'd been entirely invested in your company, now he tapped his foot incessantly against the tile beneath the table. Anxiety? Or anticipation?

Mid-bite, the gentleman stopped. He dropped his eyes to the tablecloth, set his spoon to the side, and murmured something that caused your expression to morph faintly into concern. You responded, offering him a small smile, and watched him as he folded the cloth napkin laid over his lap, set it to the side, and stood to make a bee-line deeper into the establishment and out of Khonshus' sight.

Ideas raced through Khonshu's mind. He'd seen such behavior numerous times: of predators growing excited to latch onto their prey. The mere thought that the man could have the audacity to bring you any harm nearly blinded him with boiling rage.

Before he could even form another comprehensible thought, Khonshu had already dropped into the booth across from you in the gentleman's place, throwing down his invisibility with a snap that made you jump and curse out loud. Several other patrons near your table cast sidelong glances of incredulity, murmuring amongst themselves.

You stared at him for a beat, eyes rounded and lips parted, before snatching your phone out of your purse and pressing it to your ear—though your heated gaze never faltered from his.

"You could've given me a little warning," you hissed, and the lingering scrutiny from the other humans was dismissed for the acceptance of your simply taking an unexpected call. "What are you doing?"

He is acting suspiciously, Khonshu growled, leaning over the table. He was comically large compared to it; the tops of his thighs would be pressing into its underside if he were corporeal. I suggest that you leave while he's distracted.

"What do you mean?" you questioned, frowning.

He has grown nervous. He may be preparing to act upon his deceit. I have seen such behavior before in individuals new to malfeasance or working as a front for others.

Your brows wrinkled in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Khonshu squeezed the grip of his staff, propped to the side of the plush leather seat. Despite the lack of moonlight, I can take you back—

"Have you been spying on me?" you interrupted sharply.

Khonshu stopped, taken aback by your anger. I—

"Oh my god, you were," you continued, voice pitching. You pressed your face into your free hand, propping an elbow on the edge of the table. "You were actually—" You let out a harsh sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. "I cannot believe you."

I am trying to keep you out of danger, Khonshu began, voice hardening, and that man—

"Is as harmless as a dove." You lifted your gaze back to him, blazing like wildfire. "I've never tried prying into your personal matters when you're not hanging around me. This is the one night a month I don't have to run around the city for you, and you still can't let me have any damned privacy."

Rarity of rarities, Khonshu was rendered speechless by your audacity. He let out a low rumble, his free fist curling atop the tablecloth. The glasses shivered where they stood, their melting ice cubes rattling. You forget exactly to whom you speak.

"My damned chaperone, apparently," you growled right back. "I am a grown-ass adult and I can handle myself—"

Sodjem eni, Sri mewt—Ianuk mktyek*! the god of the moon boomed from the depths of his chest, rattling the cutlery and porcelain. A couple having exited the restaurant inadvertently let in a violent gust of frigid wind through the door that nearly blew the host at the front off his feet. The other patrons shivered and eyed their table settings warily. You would do well to heed my warning—

"You've taught me how to defend myself, and I'd be able to get away if I had to," you retorted. "But for god's sake, Khonshu, it's just a date—"

A soft, uncertain clearing of one's throat caused you to jump again, turning and placing your phone face-down on the tabletop. The gentleman was back, face wan and eyes reddened, looking rather downtrodden compared to his earlier assured demeanor.

"Gideon, what's wrong?" you asked immediately, concern flooding over you in place of your ire. Khonshu leaned back, eyeing him skeptically. "Are you okay?"

"I am all right, choupinette." He offered you a small, thin smile. "I have already taken care of the bill." You opened your mouth to protest, but he waved you off gently. "Please, it is the least I could do for troubling you." He picked up his coat from the back of the seat, shrugging it on and extended an open hand to help you stand. "I need to discuss something personal with you, however."

You frowned, glancing towards Khonshu, but accepted the man's assistance—he held your coat for you as you threaded your arms through, cradled your purse as you buttoned up and readjusted your scarf, and offered you his elbow as he walked you back out into the cold night air. Khonshu followed closely behind, looming just within arm's reach of you.

"I have thoroughly enjoyed your company tonight," Gideon told you quietly, tucking you into his side to block off the wind blustering by and tugging at the ends of your hair. "You are a delightfully intellectual woman, and I hope you enjoyed yourself."

"I did," you confessed. You were watching his face, gauging—and you'd occasionally peek over your shoulder at your brooding shadow. "Thank you for taking me out, it was really nice. I appreciate your time—and you didn't have to foot the ticket."

"You are welcome." Gideon's gaze was fixated upon the street. "But please do not rob me of my courtesy—I was raised to have chivalry." He lightly squeezed your gloved hand with his own, taking a steadying breath. "...I was not entirely forthcoming with you, I am afraid."

You tensed slightly. Khonshu observed the flash of several emotions over your face—surprise, suspicion, distrust, namely—in time with your racing thoughts. Is he secretly remarried? Was he just after sex? Did he chicken out because you had repulsed him somehow? "I'd really rather you be transparent with me," you finally said, low and tight.

"It is what you are owed for your earnesty and patience with me." He finally met your beseeching stare, gray eyes glimmering. A fine, misty drizzle began to descend from the mantle of clouds hanging low overhead, catching on your eyelashes. "I...please, do not take this as any lack of interest on my part. You are truly a fine woman whom any man of sense and repute should pursue. Neither did I mean to deceive you in any way."

Your brow rose, just so, and you became a little more guarded. "Alright...?"

"...It's...difficult to express in a manner that wouldn't cause you any offense nor hurt." His expression wrinkled with a mixture of embarrassment and shame. "But I suppose I should just be plain, instead. I...truthfully, I thought that I might be ready to seek out another relationship, after…one that is long-term, preferably, as I would like to have stability for Abielle's sake. You have always been kind to me, and I have long admired you for your talents and capabilities since you were hired. You are dependable and steadfast, and you are not frivolous nor capricious as many other women are. You are one of the sincerest people that I have met here in England, and I..." He sighed and shook his head, voice thickening with every word. He attempted to clear his throat. "I apologize if it seems that I have led you on, but I suspect I will be unable to continue any future dates for...a while yet."

"Oh," you murmured, expression softening instantly. "No, Gideon, that's—entirely understandable. Did you think I'd be angry with you?"

He opened his mouth, debated on a response, then finally nodded remorsefully.

You stopped walking, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, and placed your hands on his arms. He could scarcely meet your eyes. "It's entirely normal to grieve a loved one for a long time," you told him patiently. "If you've had anybody telling you that you should be over it by now, they are entirely in the wrong. Everyone processes things a little differently. You'll know when you're ready to take on any changes in your life before anyone else does, so don't feel pressured to do anything that makes you uncomfortable because it's 'normal' or whatever."

He bit his lip, gratitude bleeding from him in waves. "I...thank you."

You offered him a small, wry grin. "Want to hug it out, Doc?"

Your attempt to lighten the mood worked like magic. Gideon laughed softly, wetly, and pulled you in close for a long moment. You did not release him until he drew back, patting his arm again. He dipped his head, cheeks darkening. "I...suppose I got overwhelmed. I did not know how you would react."

"Believe me, I understand more than you might think." You offered him your elbow this time, instead, and the pair of you continued to walk towards the parking garage on the other side of the block. Khonshu allowed a bit more distance between himself and you, continuing to observe. "I don't think I'm over my ex quite yet, either."

To his credit, Gideon's expression darkened for the first time that evening at the mere mention of that man. "I am sorry for what he did to you, choupinette. No one deserves that, and you least of all."

You shrugged a shoulder, dismissing it before you could dwell on it for too long. "I'm fine with just having Ru for right now. I think I've realized that I don't want to have to worry about a relationship for a long time." You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "Maybe tonight was good for the both of us."

"Perhaps," Gideon agreed. "...No hard feelings?"

"None," you chirped. You winked at him. "Now I just get bragging rights in the ward."

His low laughter tapered as you both rounded the corner. "You know it will infuriate the lot of them..."

Khonshu's stride slowed to a stop, the winds all but gone as the drizzle grew into a right and proper rain. The rigidity of his shoulders had fallen, and where once his fury had seethed in the pit of his belly, an unyielding lump remained lodged deep within his chest instead. He heard your laughter over the slosh of tires cutting through the water running into the gutters, almost out of earshot.

Khonshu's fingers tightened, and he slammed the end of his staff into the wet pavement as he punched himself back through the veil into the astral realm.

“Are you going to admit that you were wrong and threw a tantrum, or are we going to keep agreeing to disagree?”

Khonshu didn’t dignify you with a response, hunching forward and glaring down into the street brimming with civilians below the building upon the edge of which the pair of you perched. You sat on the crumbling brickwork, kicking your legs idly as you watched the goings-on—the vendors had thrown open the doors of their establishments, spilling shafts of warm golden light upon the damp pavement that glittered like spilled, shattered glass. Children ran to and fro, laughing and shrieking and chattering as they migrated from door to door in myriad costumes. It being a secluded part of the city at so late an hour, most people were walking on foot rather than in vehicles. Parents walked idly behind their darting progeny, conversing between themselves as they kept watchful eyes upon the overdressed terrors.

A month had slid by in one-sided conversations and, eventually, discomfit silences. Khonshu rarely spent much more time in your presence than what was strictly necessary for instruction and further training. You had become rather adept at sparring with him, though the unpredictability of strangers still caught you unawares at times—even still, you rarely incurred many injuries these days, and only the previous night you’d stopped a bank from being robbed at gunpoint without incurring a scratch. You had grown accustomed to the route that Khonshu directed you every night, so more often than not he merely had to point out a particular situation or redirect you for dire occasions, watching you act and react mostly from afar.

Khonshu hadn’t spoken a single word out of turn regarding your tasks in more than a week, yet you still addressed him the same as you always had—infuriatingly irreverent and incessantly curious.

You turned your head to peer up at him, mercurial eyes narrowed slightly. “If you don’t say anything, I’ll be taking that as a yes, Big Bird. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Khonshu’s knuckles creaked as he stood up and straightened. We should move on.

“Oh, you’re still ignoring me. Cool.” You bobbed your head briefly, letting out a sigh. “Because you’re actually five years old rather than several millennia.”

There is nothing to be found here. Khonshu stepped up onto the lip of the building, preparing to leap off and slip into the astral realm. There are skirmishes further into the city that need attending to.

“Are they urgent?”

He turned his skull to peer critically at you.

You had stood, likewise, and had your hands placed firmly on your hips. He had the distinct impression that you raised a brow at him.

Minor squabbles, he shared reluctantly.

“Okay.” You pointed at him. “I’ve gathered that I upset you, but nothing came of it. What can I do to fix this?”

Fix what? he grumbled, half-turning, half tempted to disappear to avoid the conversation altogether.

You gestured agitatedly between yourself and him. “This—whatever weird tension this is. You’re pissed off at me but I can’t seem to get you to calm down no matter what I do. You’re even more constipated than usual.”

I know not of what you speak, he responded.

“The hell you don’t,” you retorted. You squared your frame, comically small, still, to his height—posturing like a lap dog. “This is the first semi-constructive conversation we’ve had in weeks. You’re not even visiting Ru like you had been!” At his stiffening shoulders, you squinted at him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

Khonshu raised a hand to point at you in response, but you cut him off.

“I don’t know what you want from me to get you to pull your beak out of your ass, but you’re not getting an apology. What I do on my one night off and during my free time is my business. I wasn’t in any danger, and even if I was you don’t have to hover over me like I’m about to run off the first chance I get—”

Khonshu slumped in spite of himself, bracing his weight into his staff. Even if the shift was minute, even to his own perception, you caught the movement effortlessly—you saw right through him at times, and, truly, it frightened surprised him.

Your eyes widened slightly to take him in, and he watched the bandages retreat from your face beneath the hood to reveal your softened expression. He went rigid once more at your scrutiny, twisting his forearm to curl around the staff’s hilt, and resisted the urge to back down. You would not intimidate him—he was the god of the night sky, older than time itself, and you were a mere mortal, an inconsequential speck of stardust in the grand scheme of the universe’s endless cycle. What was a human to a god?

“Khonshu,” you said softly. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was not what he had expected nor what he wanted you to say.

I misread the situation, he acquiesced, if all but to avoid the dangerous edge of borderline sympathy creeping into your tone.

“And overreacted.” Your gaze narrowed, just so. “You were worried about me.”

Your conviction, the lack of uncertainty, caused his wrappings to itch. He turned to face the street once more. Some of the people had moved on, so it wasn’t nearly as crowded. If you dally any longer, the travelers—

“Khonshu.”

Despite every iota of iron-wrought willpower he possessed, he stopped. He didn’t even understand why.

“We made a deal. I don’t go back on my word.” You stepped closer—the scuff of your soles and the shift of linen gave it away. “Until you decide you don’t want me as your avatar anymore, I’ll try my best to work with you. I just need some space every now and then—that’s a normal thing for humans, to need some times to themselves. It’s good for our mental health so we don’t get burnt out.”

Khonshu was filled with immediate revulsion when your hand rested lightly on the crook of his elbow—not with you, your warmth beneath the gauze of his armor, nor your gentleness as though you were approaching a wild, cornered animal—but for the way he flinched at the not-so-unexpected touch, and for the way that you pulled away instantly, as though concerned for his well-being rather than your own fear of getting snapped at, which normally drove you.

It does not matter to me what you do, he rumbled. Your life is your own, no matter what portion of it I dictate. He did not want to have this conversation—everything within him was coiled up in protest, every instinct screaming at him to get away and ignore it and flee from you and your infuriatingly perspicacious gaze alike. (He should release you now. You knew too much, and if you learned more he was certainly doomed. He couldn’t afford that—couldn’t afford the devastation it would cause. He should, but he couldn’t. What did he want, truly?) But…you deserved better. You’d been through enough, and you valued trust above all else. He knew you, he knew why. It was the least he could do to repay you, for everything that you had done for him—you and your son. (...What had you done for him, exactly?) I…will release you, if that is what you wish.

“Is that what you want?”

Were Khonshu capable of it in his present state, he would have scowled. How was it that you were always able to catch him so unawares with your responses? You were so very vexing. It does not matter what I want. You are my ward, and it is my duty to—

“I’m not asking you about duty. I’m asking you about your desire. You can’t seem to stand being around me, yet I can’t hardly get rid of you. You ignore me, but no matter what I do you stick around. If I’m that much of a bother to you, then you need to tell me if you want me gone. I don’t much appreciate it when people drag me along without telling me what they really think and feel—I’ve had enough people lie to me in the last couple of years, and frankly I’ve had my fill. So I need you to be honest with me. You promised me that you’d be honest with me.”

Khonshu’s hands ached from the strength with which he ground his joints together clutching his staff. Truly a miracle it was that the enchanted cedar had yet to snap as often as he stressed its groaning grain. I never said that, he responded automatically. He barely gave his word on anything in which he wasn’t entirely confident—and his incomplete disclosure with you was the very source of his internal turmoil, to begin with. He had implied his compliance with your desire for honest communication above all else, but had never sworn to it for this very reason. He simply could not afford to tell you everything—for then you would know far too much, and it would inadvertently place you on the path to inevitable and far more incredible danger as a result. I promised—’pinky promised’—that I would catch you should you ever fall.

You fell silent for a long moment, considering—he felt your gaze heavy and heated upon his profile, as well as the brumous ambiance of your thoughts threatening to overcome your restraint. He, too, resisted the urge to look at you, because it would unmake him and every wall he had ever painstakingly built with bloody fingers and trembling hands.

That was why he should let you go. You held too much power over him to handle.

“Then catch me,” you finally said.

Capricious neket-iadet**, he inwardly growled—outwardly, he questioned, What?

“Keep your word,” you told him plainly, and just as he broke his resolve and turned his skull to glare at you for your incomprehension, he watched you decisively take a step backwards off the edge of the building and allow your body to tumble after it.

For a briefest moment of time—slowed and agonizing, as was his gut instinct to cast as everything within him dropped in shock—he watched you descend into open air. The impact with the concrete below would maim you, if not kill you instantly based on the trajectory. You were always wary of making any jumps, regardless of the height and of his assurances that the breezes would carry you, and yet instead of screaming you merely gazed at him with placid confidence. You didn’t look down, fully focused on him as you were, and didn’t even flinch.

In a blink, Khonshu rushed after you. The resulting gale of wind in his wake blasted anything unattached in the street below—paper and confetti and banners snapped in protest. Within the span of time it took for you to suck in a breath, he had snatched you up and pinned you firmly upon the opposite rooftop, caged in by his arms as his entire body shook mightily.

What the hell were you thinking? he snarled. Are you trying to bring yourself to harm?!

You merely stared up at him, only mildly dazed, nonplussed by his fingertips digging so deeply into the brickwork directly next to your head that it crumbled into dust. You reached up slowly, but despite expecting it and doing nothing to avoid it, his body still went rigid as your fingers—unbound, soft and smooth and so very warm—traced the jagged, uneven edge of his mandible with the most delicate of touches. You didn’t pull away that time, only gauged his reactions like one would a child: with a low, steady tone and a gentle, unflinching gaze.

Just like you did with Ru upon the rare occasion of being inconsolably upset.

“Now I’ve got your full attention,” you murmured, “and it only took me putting myself in harm’s way. Who would’ve thought?”

Khonshu stiffened further, feeling each individual ridge and arch and whorl of your fingerprint as the sensation seared itself into his very marrow. Every ounce of willpower he possessed was focused upon remaining unyielding, for if he faltered now, he would melt beyond repair. When was the last time he had been touched with reverence rather than wroth?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you told him. “Not intentionally. Just like I know you’d never hurt me.” Your exploratory trail curled directly under the arch of his ocular cavity and followed the curve of his beak downward. “You asked me to trust you, Khonshu, and I’ve been doing my best to do just that. But I need you to trust me, too, if this is going to work.”

His resolution cracked, and his quaking resumed with greater force than before—if you noticed it, however, you gave no indication.

“And I will stay as long as you’ll have need of me, and not a second more,” you continued quietly. Your fingertips stopped at the taper at the end of his beak, unheeding of the sharpness as you hooked them underneath to anchor him in—as though he weren’t already fixated to your touch. “So don’t shut me out. We’re a team, remember? Even if you call the shots. I can’t help you if you withdraw like this. I can’t exactly read minds.”

You couldn’t, but he could. And, oh, how calm yours was, blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing within his own—as serene as an oasis drenched in the receding light of a blazing sunset, uncaring that his comparatively massive frame trapped you in full range of his physical and magical might with nowhere to run. He could bask in that security if he allowed himself the indulgence, bathe in the unadulterated safety you felt in his presence. You did trust him. You were not afraid of him—you never had been. You saw him, through him, despite everything that he had done for thousands of years to remain indistinguishable to most, including his kin. He couldn’t risk you worming your way in past his shell, couldn’t fathom the thought of you seeing more and discovering more and knowing more—he wouldn’t survive it.

He didn’t call the shots, not really.

You were in danger, but you were dangerous.

He could scarcely take it.

You know nothing, he croaked; a weak incantation, one he knew he couldn’t validate.

You blinked once, but didn’t immediately respond. He couldn’t withstand the burden of your gaze, yet never wanted to be parted from it.

“About what?” you pressed softly.

About my desire, lay on the very tip of his incorporeal tongue, but he retained enough self-control instead to growl, About what it means to trust a god.

“But I’m trying to,” you told him. “I want to.”

You shouldn’t. It slipped, this time. He was helpless to resist it—to resist you.

“So sue me.” Your brows furrowed. “You’re stuck with me until you decide to get rid of me, Big Bird, so you better get used to it. I’ll stand at your side, but not behind you. If you have a problem with that, you need to speak now or forever hold your peace.”

He had nothing to say, except, …Very well. But you bring this upon yourself, Sri mewt.

You quirked a brow at him. “I didn’t accept the offer to be your avatar without expecting some degree of hardship. But consider that I might need this as much as you do, Khonshu.”

Khonshu hesitated, your thoughts inextricably brushing along the edge of his own: I need you. You’re too important to me now to lose.

He retreated, then, abruptly—physically and mentally. Your lips parted as he shifted and straightened, upright a good three paces away from your prostrate form before you could blink.

Forgive me, he muttered, leaning into his staff wearily.

“It’s all right,” you responded carefully, sitting up and climbing to your feet. Your eyes were brimming with questions and curiosity, but to his relief you settled on, “Did I hurt you?”

No, he said. Despite himself, he added quietly, I am simply unused to it.

“Okay. Just tell me if you ever want me to stop,” you reply, and you don’t know how badly he wanted to take you up on your offer—to demand that you stop everything, like constantly chipping away at his barriers, or looking at him like he’s something to be understood with care rather than downtrodden, or making him question everything he’d ever thought he’d known about himself so fervently that he was no longer certain of anything anymore.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was in too deep, past the point of no return, and he knew it—he knew it as intimately as he knew the contours of your body just underneath his armor, the frequency of your voice vibrating within his skull, and the exact number of crinkles in the corners of your eyes whenever you smiled as brilliantly as the moon at your son—yet he could summon no strength to pull himself back from the very brink of the sheer insanity he was willing to and already enduring for the sake of continuing to have you so close. It would arguably hurt him worse to part himself from you, now, than to push you away.

He would be made the continued mockery of the gods if they knew how desperately he craved to be subservient to you rather than the other way around.

“Hey.”

He refocused on you, realizing that he had totally missed you stepping directly in front of him. You could put your forehead on his torso if you just leaned forward a bit.

“I’m always here to listen if you want or need to talk,” you told him. “You’ve listened to me rant plenty of times. It’s only fair of me to offer the same favor.” The faintest wry quirk of your mouth twisted every metaphorical organ in his chest cavity, and he couldn’t breathe even if he had to. “I can’t even imagine what goes on in that empty skull of yours, and I’d rather avoid any squabbles that would make you give me the cold shoulder for so long again, if possible.”

I will…endeavor to remember that. He turned and faced the cityscape once more, bandages crawling with discomfort after the weight of the entire conversation finally struck him. Let us move on. There is work to be done.

“Lead on,” you told him, drawing the gauze back over your face and hands.

Khonshu wordlessly summoned a fierce gust to carry you halfway across London as he slipped back into the invisible safety of the astral realm to observe like the coward he truly was.

Khonshu, as always, was able to suppress the majority of his internal conflict enough for your shared routine to return to relative normalcy over the course of the next couple of weeks. You were comfortable enough to resume your oft one-sided conversations with him while he lingered in your home during the day just as he finally allowed himself to return to that habit, though his extended silences were due mainly to contemplation rather than avoidance (since you still saw it fit to ask him every question man could seem to conjure under the sun), and you seemed to be satisfied by the familiarity of it.

Your skills only continued to improve, and oftentimes he no longer felt the need to intervene in your skirmishes, even when you faced a disadvantage. You were clever—definitely too cunning for your own good—and now that he had successfully equipped you with the knowledge and muscle memory to deal effectively with your adversaries, you outsmarted them more often than not strictly on account of being faster and unpredictable.

Ironic, certainly, that the bane of his existence was your sharp, analytical mind, and yet he valued it so greatly in the field to execute his vengeance.

Although he didn’t find himself particularly inclined to tell you so, for it would surely go to your head and render you even more insufferable than your smuggest of days discovering such great delight in incessantly needling his ever-waning patience, he was extremely pleased with your progress. You were eager to learn whenever he would introduce a new technique or ability to you, and usually you had mastered it within a week in execution. He hadn’t had so skilled and studious an avatar in decades, as sufficient as the last several had proven, and despite the inward dread he felt at your personal life intermingling so unabashedly into his, he was increasingly grateful as every night passed that he had decided to go out on a limb for you.

Even if the long-term benefits arguably outweighed the present ones.

Ru was growing stronger and developing his mother’s wits at what normally would have been an alarming rate in a normal child. Being so consistently exposed to Khonshu and his power was feeding the blessing in that child and causing it to manifest in his strapping health and burgeoning development. His physician had told you, surprise plain in his features, that he was farther along than he should be—not a bad sign, surely, just unexpected and, to uneducated human minds, inexplicable.

You didn’t seem to bat an eye at the concept, really. You truly only cared for him to be healthy and happy over the odd, if not beneficial, traits he demonstrated.

Khonshu himself was thankful that you chose not to question any of that, at least. And he was relieved to be able to observe the child unscrutinized once more.

The boy was growing faster than Khonshu could reasonably fathom. The god of the moon remembered what it was like to be young—cradled in his mother’s arms, perched on her lap, and guided by her hand clasping his. A Heliopolitan’s lifespan could not be truly compared to a human’s, as he had mentioned to you before, on account of the differing biologies. But he had been a child once, though he’d grown far more rapidly into adulthood than mortals could imagine. The Egyptians had struggled to comprehend his vastly differing appearances throughout time, leading to his myriad depictions varying so widely in reliefs, statues, and literature.

Even still, Khonshu had never remained in such close proximity to a human child—nevermind one that he had blessed (though he had monitored those in the past, he had mostly disregarded their existence until they were old enough to prove themselves useful for servitude). Possessing no offspring of his own, he ought not to have any practical experience or knowledge beyond what he’d learned by exposure over time, but it was startlingly easy, instinctual even, to interact with the boy. He was mild-mannered, rarely fussed without good reason, and observed with far more intelligence than Khonshu could ever have anticipated.

His incessant inquisitiveness, it seemed, was a hereditary trait passed directly on from his mother.

Badru was now five months old, and Khonshu scarcely recognized the swaddled bundle of ruddy, rounded flesh you had brought into the world. His eyes were bright and attentive, constantly tracking your movements as long as you were within viewing range—but they always seemed to find Khonshu even before he’d manifest into the physical plain. He still struggled with mobility, but he touched everything within his reach to study its texture and color with as rapt a fixation as you did your paperwork. He was particularly adept at finding the most tender places to tug Khonshu’s wrappings, the deity had come to learn—despite his stern, if long-suffering, scoldings not to grab his beak, the boy would only giggle in rebellious mockery and continue with his mischief.

Khonshu tried not to connect with him too much, he really did—it would only lead to disaster in the future. But everything the child did, everything he thought (although his thoughts were still rudimentarily instinctual), drew Khonshu’s own dormant curiosity. Khonshu knew the effects that a child conceived under a crescent moon combined with his blessings experienced based on the differences the adults displayed in the past: improved senses, memory, intelligence, strength, reflexes, agility, among other comparatively minor enhancements upon humanity’s inherently flawed physiology—but he had failed to realize how early that these traits would impact an infant’s early growth.

You were certainly proud of your son’s development, even if you didn’t question its rapid rate. You spent as much time as physically possible with the boy, stimulating him with toys, stories, and teaching that Khonshu found painfully rudimentary but, ultimately, necessary. You were flourishing as a mother, truly, and nothing quite matched the sight of your blinding smiles when you did interact with him.

The joy that the babe undeniably brought you mitigated Khonshu’s underlying guilt for the most part—but the moments where you trudged with weariness, pushed your limits beyond reason, and tried to hide your lows only reminded him exactly whose fault it was that you struggled.

Khonshu, despite his reluctance to nurture the child’s dependence upon him, wanted to help you wherever he could, though he was limited to what he could offer besides healing the boy and holding him when you were busy with chores. The child seemed magnetized to his presence, did everything he could to get to him and gets his grubby little fingers on him, and Khonshu was uncertain whether it was caused by his blessing or by some innate fascination with the familiarity of the hulking eldritch deity making himself comfortable in their home. And, over time, Khonshu came to the realization that there was an unexpected side benefit to directly interacting with the boy.

Khonshu was unsuited to understand the exact nature of his powers and abilities, much less how they worked (such comprehension was better explained by the likes of Heka)—so to anticipate that such a connection would form some sort of feedback loop with Khonshu’s wellspring would have been impossible. Even simply touching the child resulted in a shocking amount of power directed back into the deity. It only amplified the more that Khonshu spent time around him, particularly when he spoke, even if was derogatory or chastisement.

Even though the replenishment was relatively small compared to what Khonshu used to receive in praise, prayers, and offerings (something he lamented often, especially on nights of the new moon), it was far more than he’d gleaned in decades. The nourishment was invaluable, and Khonshu had begun to notice the slight changes it made in his current manifestation—his wrappings had stopped their gradual decay, perhaps even had reverted, he felt stronger, and his magic had improved in efficacy and speed. It only assisted your endeavors, as the armor became more resilient, improved your superhuman abilities, and healed you faster when you incurred injuries.

Further experimentation would be required to determine the quantitative supply of what the boy was capable of returning to his patron, but for the time being Khonshu found that he could not fault you for the amount of happiness Badru brought you. His laughter was easily provoked, whether it was through physical prods to his midsection and underarms or Khonshu’s grave, booming tone. What prompted the reaction the most, however, was an odd game Khonshu observed you play with the infant on numerous occasions. You would conceal your face behind your hands, wait until the babe would utter a noise of confusion, and then reveal yourself with a soft exclamation. Despite the fact that you may have repeated the action numerous times prior to the current occasion, Badru would react the exact same—with equal parts surprise and mirth.

It puzzled Khonshu, truly. You had explained the concept of object permanence to him when he’d inquired about the boy’s worryingly consistent forgetful behavior (as well as the lack thereof that Badru would not develop for some time), but he still had trouble wrapping his mind around it. You sat with the boy on your lap, yet the child acted as though you had disappeared from the face of the earth simply because he could not see your face. Asinine, perhaps, but…Khonshu’s judgement was belayed by a certain (if limited) amount of endearment.

It would benefit Khonshu in the long run to conduct the aforementioned experiments while he remained in your good graces (at least for the time being), and if he could do so while entertaining the child when you were busy…well, what did humans say about two birds and one stone?

He decided to try it one late evening when Elizabeth was out on a date. The pair of you had joked about the bad luck she’d had the last time since you had (not so) unexpectedly gone into labor in the middle of her dinner, but since you possessed no more tricks up your sleeve to interfere you encouraged the ginger to go out and have a good time—and, like Khonshu had observed you two do when you went on your ‘date’ with the gentleman, Elizabeth told you her expected destinations, estimated durations, and potential secondary locations while updating her tracking on her cellular device. You had promised her with only some mirth that if anything malicious happened to her, you’d descend like the fury of hell upon her paramour—Khonshu had been forced to stifle a chuckle at the oblivious eye-roll your friend with which your friend had responded to your only half-hearted threat.

You were left to your own devices, then, being off that night. You went about the motions of cooking supper, and Khonshu bided his time looming in the living room until Badru began to get bored with the blunted wooden blocks you’d laid out for him to play with and notify you of his malcontent with soft, displeased grunts.

“I know, baby,” you called over your shoulder, stirring the creamy sauce in the simmering pan to prevent it from scorching on the bottom. “I’ll be there in a moment, just let me—”

I’ll get him, Khonshu told you, materializing into your plain and bending down to scoop the child up from the plush rug. Prepare your meal.

“I—oh. Thank you.” You blinked at him, brows arching slightly, but didn’t protest as Khonshu wandered down the hallway towards the child’s room. “Let me know if he gives you any trouble!”

He will not, he returned dryly, turning into the darkness and snapping his fingers to activate the bedside lamp next to your rocking chair. He extended his arms to eye the child in his entirety, watching him with rounded eyes and an open mouth. Khonshu scrutinized the hair growing in full force upon the boy’s head, identical to yours in color and texture, as well as the subtle definition of features he recognized from looking at your face—the shapes of his eyes, mouth, and nose, although his ears must have been inherited from his father.

The thought sent a wave of revulsion through Khonshu, but even he couldn’t manipulate genetics.

Khonshu descended to the floor, crossing his legs the same way you did. He settled Badru into the cradle his interlocking calves formed, though the size difference was far more pronounced. The boy was perplexed, evidenced by the strong feeling of newness resounding from his otherwise empty mind. Khonshu tilted his skull to eye the wrinkles of his expression, then experimentally covered his eye sockets with his hand before lifting it a few seconds later.

Nothing. Badru looked even more skeptical than before.

Difficult to please, aren’t you? Khonshu grumbled. Or is it favoritism at play?

The babe reached out with flexing hands towards his torso in response.

Does the practice require two hands? Khonshu continued dryly, pressing the babe back to his original position before attempting just that.

Still nothing.

You made it look remarkably easy. What was it that had anchored the child’s attention so raptly? Did he have to utter that specific incantation to evoke the boy’s startlement? Did you actually possess a sensitivity to heka*** that Khonshu had previously failed to perceive?

Khonshu concealed his skull, then parted his hands, thankful, for once, for his isolation—he’d prefer to never have an audience be aware of this situation as long as he lived. …Boo…?

Badru blinked slowly, as though questioning his hesitance.

Khonshu tried again. Boo.

His mouth twitched.

Boo.

The boy smiled, at least, but still offered no laughter.

Khonshu let out an agitated huff. Puzzling child. You seek only to spite me, don’t you? Defiant like your mother.

Badru gurgled and smiled around the fist he attempted to shove past his lips. Khonshu hooked his wrist with one solitary, spindly finger, tugging it away from the oozing maw. The babe let out a grunt, his flat brow wrinkling in displeasure, but Khonshu hushed him with a low tone.

And despite having not accomplished any significant task, Khonshu could feel the steady, if narrow, trickle of power through the link he shared with the child in his lap. In the peak of his influence, he never would have noticed such a comparatively insignificant supply at the time—now he was ravenous for it. The tension in his shoulders eased the longer that he studied Badru’s sparkling eyes, tracking over the sharp edges and contours of the old god’s skull. Such wonder, in those eyes, just like yours; such innocence.

Khonshu, chest tight, released the wrappings from his free hand and slowly, hesitantly, brushed his fingertips across the babe’s forehead to cradle the crown of his head. Impossibly smooth, unblemished, and warmer than he had expected—the downy strands felt like the finest of silk, enhanced by the soaps with which you used to bathe him. And in spite of the certain discomfort that the scars mottling Khonshu’s tarnished, otherworldly hand brought, Badru only cooed at his whisper-soft touch. The boy reached up with his own free hand, unanchored by Khonshu’s other loose forefinger and thumb, and grabbed blindly at the coarse gauze—as pristine a white as it had looked in months (years, even)—to investigate the texture with rapt, unwavering attention.

Khonshu tilted his skull to the other side, and the sudden movement after the period of stillness caused the child to jump slightly—then giggle quietly.

Khonshu hummed in thought. He glanced over his shoulder, finding the hallway still dark and unoccupied. He could hear you humming in the kitchen along to the music playing from your phone, a bare foot tapping on the tile along with the beat. The scrape of wood on copper kept you busy. He turned back to Badru, allowing the form from his shoulders up to coalesce into a form he hadn’t adopted in…longer than he could readily recall.

Badru blinked, mouth gaping in awe.

Then, like a snap, Khonshu reverted back. Boo!

The peal of belly-clenching laughter took the moon god by complete surprise. His turn to jump, he mused, watching the child light up with incomprehensible humor lost on anyone older than himself. And the surge of delight along their connection precluded a tide of power that made Khonshu’s entire aura sag with relief.

You require startlement, he observed mildly. And here I thought that humans hated to be frightened.

Ru slung his hand insistently, gurgling like a drunkard.

Khonshu switched once more. Boo!

Badru laughed even louder, and even had the decency to clap for the moon god’s performance before demanding its repetition again.

This cycle carried on for several minutes, and every thought fell away from the forefront of Khonshu’s mind save one—who could have anticipated the utter delight that a baby’s laugh could elicit in even the coldest and darkest of hearts? Khonshu certainly hadn’t. It…almost made him feel—

“I see someone has learned how to keep him entertained.”

Khonshu’s insides leapt. Fortunately, he was in his usual state as he turned to glare over his shoulder at you leaning against the doorway. He hadn’t even noticed your approach. He rebound his hand and grunted as he stood, tucking the cackling babe into the crook of his arm. Deceptively simple, he lied. Humans are so very easy to entertain, after all.

“Of course,” you grinned, eyes glittering with mirth, looking all like the cat who trapped the canary.

Khonshu pressed the child back into your grasp. Your hands brushed his as the exchange was made, and even though he was at least one layer separated from your skin, the ghostly sensation still sent frissons rocketing up his arms. Would you be as pleasant to touch, he wondered, were he to investigate with his weathered palms?

I have matters to which I must attend until later, he rumbled stiffly, summoning his staff where he’d left it in the astral plane. Do not be late.

“I never am,” you reminded him with a cheeky smile, brimming with teeth this time, and Khonshu disappeared from your view with some relief—if he’d had a heart, it would have been racing.

You had almost seen, and that most certainly wouldn’t do.

“It’s going to get busier the closer we get to the holidays,” you warned Khonshu absently, closing your eyes as the draft continued to carry you through the clouds crowding over the slumbering city far below. “Everyone always decides to act like idiots or develop problems when medical staff try to take a break. I’ll try my best to keep up with everything, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up if I’m more tired than usual.”

Khonshu merely hummed from his space within the astral realm, tilting his fingers this way and that to guide the currents that carried the crescent-shaped cloak billowing in the otherwise frigid wind. It has been a recurring theme throughout the years, no matter what country or culture his avatars originated from—even when Egypt still stood, they had their festivities that often interfered with their duties, though at least those events pertained directly to the Ennead.

“…The next new moon falls on the night of the hospital facility Christmas party, too,” you added more quietly, “just so you know.”

And why would I need to know that? Khonshu questioned.

“You got…you acted like it bothered you last time.” You cleared your throat. “When I made plans outside of the usual routine and didn’t let you know, anyway. I didn’t want to surprise you again if I could help it.”

Khonshu…wasn’t certain how to respond. Since your rooftop dive to provoke him into speaking with you, you hadn’t mentioned anything remotely close to the event not of any extracurricular activities in which you intended to participate on your next “off-day”. Things had returned to relative normalcy since then, and he’d been able to put it to the back of his mind (but he hadn’t forgotten it—no, he was uncertain that he’d ever be able to get the image of you in that dress out of his mind’s eye, nor the sheer bitterness that the entire situation had summoned in him like bile; he still inwardly growled to think of it, of the gentleman’s hands on you, even as courteous and chaste as he had been). He hadn’t ever insisted on you giving him an itinerary of your upcoming obligations, but…you were right, as much as he begrudged to admit it. It had bothered him. More than he had anticipated at the time.

Khonshu had never counted himself to be the possessive sort of god, unlike those of his kindred who prided themselves on it—Sobek chief among them, the slant-eyed, narcissistic bastard. He’d always given his avatars wide berth to go about their daily lives, having never particularly cared about their whereabouts or goings-on unless they impeded their servitude to him. You were the first human whose company he’d actively sought in hundreds of years, and the first he’d…enjoyedin thousands. Despite how you irritated him so, your presence was a balm of serenity he hadn’t felt in ages. You had no ulterior motives for accessing his abilities save the agreement of your son’s protection, and didn’t ever attempt to utilize said abilities for anything other than the work he gave you—oftentimes he was the one forced to summon the suit in order to heal the various wounds you incurred, as you attempted to go about your day as normal without tending to them. You reminded him, in some ways, of his own mother—though the revelation was one that hurt more than comforted him.

You called him asinine names, talked incessantly, and it seemed your curiosity was never sated. You made him unbearably uncomfortable at times, and at others he could recall scarcely fewer moments when he’d felt as at ease. You were brimming with contradictions, and yet…Khonshu found himself continually and inexorably magnetized and drawn to remain in your orbit.

Fitting, he supposed. The moon will always be doomed to the circle the earth’s nurturing outer reaches—but never closer. Disaster would surely follow.

Still. He appreciated your thoughtfulness, your care to see to his needs (even if he refused to admit that he did need him to know—for your safety). Your expectation weighed heavy on the back of your mind, a steady inquisitive pressure that eventually won out over his inclination to remain silent. Thank you.

“You’re welcome.” You twisted over lazily, rolling in the draft that surged beneath the crescent-shaped cloak cracking like canvas. “Also…I know it might be a bit much to ask, but…can I have off Christmas Eve? Lizzie and I have a tradition of staying up til’ midnight, and since I’ve got Ru now, I thought…well. I’d like to stay with him. If that’s okay with you.”

Khonshu found that it was much easier to grant you such a request than he ever had before. As you wish, srit mewt****.

“Thank you.” He felt the distinct pull of your smile beneath the gauze covering your face. “I’ll be sure to leave out some cookies and milk for you, too, Big Bird. Unless you’d have a different preference.”

…You’re welcome. Khonshu huffed quietly. And that is unnecessary.

“Oh, come on, there’s got to be something you like.” You began to count off on your fingers. “Sugar, chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin…oh, I bet you’re a white chocolate and macadamia nut kind of guy!”

Were Khonshu capable of rolling his eyes, he would have. He opted for another terse sigh instead, intentionally directed into your ears. I have not had cookies, and therefore have no preference. I needn’t remind you that I am incapable of ingesting corporeal sustenance in my present state.

“That’s a damn shame,” you responded forlornly, though he didn’t miss the shiver that wracked your frame from his previous low register. “I’m not sure what I’d do without cookies. They’ve gotten me through a lot of tough times, you know.”

Humans have always had a proclivity towards sugar throughout the ages, and it would seem that it has…compounded over time.

“…I really hope you’re not calling me fat, Granddaddy Long-Beak, because I will start pulling out the skeleton jokes and you will apologize.”

I had no such implication, he simpered, spotting the location of his quarry come over the horizon between several squatting metal storehouses in the outskirts of the industrial district of the city. But Elizabeth’s stash of sweets has inexplicably diminished lately. She has not been pleased.

“It’s November, Khonshu. If I don’t get my pumpkin spice fix now it’ll be too late.”

I am certain that her massacred population of Kit-Kats would agree with you.

“You don’t eat, remember? So you have no right to judge me. Try one of those things and see if you don’t get addicted.”

It would likely cause me to disintegrate, as ‘frail’ as you are so convinced of my constitution being.

“I…did you just make a joke?”

The source of the scuffle is down there. Khonshu directed the winds to take you in a low sweep over the buildings. Be swift, and be quiet. There may be others lingering nearby.

You laughed quietly as you landed upon the iron beams framing the broken ceiling, muffled under the mask and stifled by your poor grasp at restraint. Your shadow fell upon the concrete below, surrounded by the moon’s mercurial glow, and yet the bickering lackeys below were none the wiser. “Fine, Khonshu. Spoil my fun. But if you’re ever in a position that Lizzie finds out about you, do not tell her that I did it.”

It is best to keep as few people aware of our activities as possible, he reminded you grimly, watching you size up the three large men toting guns on their hips. But even then, I will make no such promises.

“Traitor,” you gasped dramatically, and the sound drew the attention of the skinniest of the three—and obviously the jumpiest, because he immediately bolted towards their truck to start it while the slower two craned their necks back to squint up at your silhouette with some confusion. “Welp. Looks like I’ve lost the element of surprise. Sorry to drop in unannounced, fellas, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to crash the pity party!”

Khonshu, slipping out of the astral realm into a crouch, observing with some amusement as you nimbly stepped off the beam and descended in a flurry of ivory linen to apprehend the painfully amateur bank thieves. Your khopeshes cleaved their pistols in half like butter, and a good throw into the radiator of their vehicle killed its chugging engine the exact moment the skinniest one managed to coax it to life.

This is what he had missed while stewing in his own misery—your easy conversation, your lighthearted quips, your humored reactivity. This is what made you dangerous. This is why he should let you go.

But, sea of nothing, he didn’t think he could bear to.

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #moon knight #khonshu #reader insert #khonshu/reader #khonshu x reader #khonshu x you #mine #original character(s)#original female character(s)#original male character(s)

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aerialworms-art · 1 year ago

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October wrap-up

So! October is at an end! And I have not finished Spocktober/Trektober. Let's see how I did!

My goals for the month were:

To have fun :3

To get used to finishing drawings

To get used to posting them, too!

To have fun :3

To improve my sketching and lineart skills

To end up with a bunch of finished drawings (of Spock!!!) :3

To let go of a bit of my perfectionism

TO HAVE FUN :3

So how do I think I did?

Having fun:

I had a lot of fun with it this year! In previous years, I've pretty much immediately devolved into an anxious mess because there were too many options and I bit off more than I could chew. This time around, thanks to my guidelines (only inking, not spending too much time on each day, sketching and thumbnailing in advance), it was a lot easier to let loose and have fun thinking up ideas and enjoying the process. Plus, I let my friends know I was doing it this time around and got encouragement and support, which was lovely.

Getting used to finishing drawings:

I did better at this than I thought I would! There are several drawings I've finished this month that I would have given up on if not for this goal. Do I think they were all my best work? No. Did I learn from the process? Yes! And some of the ones that have gotten the most notes were ones I thought no-one would like and struggled to finish. So! I also figured out new ways of motivating myself to finish things, which is also very helpful.

Getting used to posting things:

Also went better than I thought! Although I didn't manage to maintain a cushion of queued posts like I wanted to, the response I've gotten from actually posting my art has been amazing! I've gained several new followers (hello!!) and gotten so many nice comments, and went from being afraid of posting anything to tentatively looking forward to people's reactions, which is a huge improvement for me. Getting that accountability of posting publicly also helped keep me going when I felt like giving up - seeing my friends laugh when I showed them my silly comics or getting nice comments really made me feel like sharing my art is worthwhile. So thank you to everyone who reblogged my art, commented, liked, etc. I'm glad you did!

Improving sketching and lineart:

I definitely think I improved my art skills. Getting into the habit of thumbnailing really helped take the pressure off the sketching phase, and trying so many different ideas pushed me out of my comfort zone and forced me to try drawing things I wasn't so confident on - look how many hands I drew!!!! As for the lineart, I think I've gained a bit more experience in using pens, although I did buy a whole new set of them halfway through the month which put me on a new learning curve. Lineart's never been a huge favourite of mine, and I do miss using my tablet to do lineless art, but the nature of the challenge did help me to loosen up and experiment to keep my mind engaged the whole time.

To end up with a bunch of finished drawings of Spock:

Check! I have 14 finished drawings, with another four sketched and needing inking, plus a whole load of thumbnails to work from in future. I may go back and add colour to some of the days for funsies, but there's several that I can just put on my wall as-is and be proud :)

To let go of a bit of my perfectionism:

I definitely did! Like I said, there's a few of the ones I've posted that I'm not too proud of and know I could do better on, but I've spent all month purposely smacking my hand away from perfectionism, and I know I've tried my best given my limitations. I'm still proud of myself for getting this far, and for posting when I was anxious, and for improving my skills, and now I get to stick up my art on my wall and be proud of it! I'm not magically cured by any means, but I do have a bit more evidence that perfection is not a good goal to pursue, so I'm going to keep this experience in mind for the future.

So what now?

I do have thumbnails for almost all of the rest of the prompts. I am doing NaNoWriMo this month, and I have a digital piece that I want to finish for the 5th (holy shit. three years.) So I think I'll take a little pause on these prompts, but I don't want to stop. I'll keep coming back to them, and keep posting them, until I run out of prompts or motivation, whichever comes first. I've really enjoyed seeing people's reactions to my Star Trek art, especially the comics! I also have a backlog of SPN fanart I want to post, so I'll probably queue some of that to come out soon.

TL;DR: Watch this space!

And if you've been following along/commenting on/reblogging my art this month (or anytime), thank you so much! It's folks like you that make sharing art worthwhile!

#original poast #artie talks #i am feeling so much more positive than any of my previous attempts at an inktober style challenge!#this has genuinely been so much fun and it's so nice to feel like part of a community #i'm sad I didn't get to any of the suptober prompts #cause I had some ideas for those too #but given various life stuff and also my very last minute decision to even attempt it this year i think i did excellently #and I am going to record the fact that I am proud of myself for future-me to look back on #also. uh. the askbox is open if anyone would like to send prompts. i can't make any promises but if something catches my imagination #i may doodle a little thing for you!#chatting is also encouraged! i like making new friends :)

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raspberryspace · 2 years ago

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Motor cycle class day two

6:30am right into some obstacle clearance riding, we just ran over wooden planks… but ‘‘twas fun standing on the pegs to really let the suspension and your legs take the impact. It’s eerie how similar it all feels to riding a bike, yes the motorcycles heavier but it’s also just as nimble. With speed balance becomes easier due to the rotating wheels. Squeezing yourself around the tank also adds stability, something you can’t really do on a bike. but yeah drills - we had a braking while in a corner drill, and now this isn’t anything tricky it’s just maybe a little bit more accident prone due to the nature of trying to stop yourself at 18mph with front hydraulic brakes… so unfortunately one of my peers did in-fact lock the front while turning and dropped his bike, an old orange tanked Suzuki. Luckily he wants hurt or anything it was rather low speed but still kinda humbled everyone in class. One thing though is that the instructors didn’t use it as a teaching moment, to demo what to do when a bike falls or checking for damage. Would have been insightful. We kept on though and the guy who fell ( the Russian dude ) sat out for the rest of that drill while writing up paperwork that he was uninjured and etc for liability rip. The fun one today was the consecutive corners and speed management drill. Big long S turns and a constant rate turn made for a nice 2nd gear zoom. The first lap around was rather risk adverse there was a lot of loose gravel around some of the corner bits but I built confidence in the bike. Couple times i definitely tried to apex the corners even though we were supposed to stay in the middle throughout… drop a knee and LEAN. It was quite fun. The slalom and swerving drills were also quite a leaning experience. At first I was kinda just sitting upright and maintaining my body perpendicular to the bike entering the leans and turning, but what I found out ( without any real help from the instructors ) was that you really want to pivot with your hips. Keep your upper body level and move around your butt to balance! The first swerve from 23mph felt very natural and the bike moved exactly where I wanted it to, I was quite impressed. Low speed slalom too before moving around my hips felt very turn - drive - lean - turn - drive - lean whereas with hip movement it ends up being more of a dance TurnLean-drive LeanTurn-Drive it felt rhythmic and dynamic. Definitely enjoyed that learning process. Lastly the test! It consists of an emergency braking within a box, U Turn within a box, swerving, low speed control and slalom, cornering at speed / speed management and that’s it! Pretty straightforward. It was all drills we had done previously just now we couldn’t “practice” it’s a one shot you’re done kinda deal. Ok let’s also preface this with one of the things that will auto DQ you from the test is if you drop the bike. It was so unfortunate to see the oldest gentleman really commit to the emergency braking and sent it a little too fast before locking up the front brake to make the box braking zone. His bike fell, thankfully he was uninjured but definitely looked dejected. We all gave him a thumbs up and nods to reassure, but I’m sure he was feeling down regardless. He’s going to end up having to take the final riding evaluation again another day. One dude who kinda just lacked the refinement and listening skills too tbh.. ( ran through stops and didn’t line up places ) was looking rather worried through the final evaluation because he stalled it twice and put a foot down during low speed maneuvers. But he passed no harm done. That’s really all of it. I did get to ride on one of the older Honda cruiser bikes during a break, and boy… it really felt like a substantial little vehicle. The seating position was comfortable maybe a little low and the foot pegs were so far out ahead. Changed the center of gravity and how to balance it, not to mention longer forks with more rake to them changed turning radius and technique! But man did it feel like a proper - I’m a biker - it definitely cruises.

We got a little ziplock baggie with discount cards and promos, our endorsement of the course of to the races we go. Pretty just handshake and congratulation little tips like practice with your own bike in a parking lot etc. but yeah we all said our thanks and headed off! Now the dmv… takes two days to process it all so guess who has to now stay an extra two days in Florida to make sure this class doesn’t go to waste. This idiot. hell yeah. Thankfully I ended up getting a better direct flight back. What da text block limiter… tumblr what is this I’m trying to save some memories here…

Overall I’m happy, itch scratched. Am I going to ditch my car and bike only everywhere no… but definitely something I want to explore more and hopefully enjoy safely and responsibly! Off to the next rating to be added to my pilots license.

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jeonjcngkook · 4 years ago

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the pages between us | knj (m)

➵ pairing: namjoon x f!reader

➵ genre / au: idol au, fluff, smut

➵ word count: 3.4k

➵ summary: learning korean wasn’t easy as you had initially hoped but it was a nice way to spend the evening with your boyfriend

➵ warnings & kinks: may fall harder in love with namjoon • soft dom joon • sub reader • cursing • thigh riding (have u seen his glutes) • dirty talk • fingering • overuse of the nickname petal • unprotected sex • oral sex for like 0.3 seconds (f. receiving) • orgasm denial • creampie • cock warming • cum stuffing • over stimulation • aftercare

➵ a/n: my lil old blog turned 1 year old on april 17th and what better way to celebrate 365 days on tumblr than to do something totally out of my comfort zone huh. i wanna just say thank you to everyone who has followed and supported me

@taegularities for giving me the confidence and power to do all this. truly the best beta reader I could have asked for and my excitement to work with you again knows no boundaries. thank you for putting up with my nervous messages and out of control screaming.

@namjinsie who has been there throughout the entire process of this, all the voice messages, screaming & tantrums.

You couldn’t believe when Namjoon had walked through the door of your apartment last night. Bags and cases in tow right behind him. He had been away for the last three months on tour and doing all kinds of promotions but here he is now, lying on top of your bed in those dangerously loose grey sweats.

He knows that this particular pair are your favourite, accompanied by a glass of red wine that he had brought back from one of the countries he had the privilege of spending time in. He looked ethereal. The true definition of Home is in Kim Namjoon.

You have been dating Namjoon for five months now, taking each day as it comes. In the beginning, you had both decided that keeping out of the public's watchful eye until you were both comfortable and established within the relationship was best. There are only a few people who know. Those who need to know, per say.

Two of these people being your boyfriend's parents, who you are yet to meet. That would all change in 3 days' time as Namjoon has organised a small lunch get together at his own apartment, where he would finally get his chance to introduce you to them.

Which is exactly why you are currently perched on the bed with your back resting on the headboard, notepad and language books in hand. Namjoon’s English is impeccable, only improving day after day as he spends more time with you. You had decided that to make a good impression on his parents, you wanted to make an effort in his native language.

Learning Korean wasn’t easy as you had initially hoped but it was a nice way to spend the evening with your boyfriend and the bonus, of course, was wanting to make him proud of you for the efforts you’re making for his parents. You know some of the basics of the language, and your understanding of the writing has improved, but the pronunciation is yet to be achieved.

You let out a low huff of irritation, struggling with some of the phrases your book is introducing you to whilst chewing on the end of your pen, a bad habit you have always had when you got stressed. Namjoon always seemed to notice.

Finishing off the remainder of his wine, he sets the glass down on the bedside table and crawls up behind you. Bare chest pushed up against your back, leaving no space in between. He moves your hair cascading down the right of your neck to the back and places soft gentle pecks on the skin of your shoulder and neck.

“What’s got you in such a fuss, petal, hm?” Namjoon interrupts your thoughts.

“I just can’t get this phrase right. I just want to be able to make you proud and more importantly, I want your parents to like me,” you murmur, closing your eyes and slowly moving your head back, giving Namjoon more access to kiss where he pleases.

Namjoon gives you a small smile. Though you can’t see it, you can feel it in between his butterfly kisses. “They’re going to love you regardless if you know the language fluently, baby,” Namjoon promises. “You’ve already learned so much.” You can’t help but smile at his words.

“I know, but you know how I get when I want something to be perfect,” you rebut, leaning over to take a sip of your own wine before placing the glass back down and lying back against Namjoon.

Not even a minute after finding your comfortable spot against him, he takes the notepad and pen from your hands and moves to sit in front of you.

“Let’s play a game,” he offered, “I’m going to give you a word or a phrase and I want you to figure it out. When you do, look at me when you read it out loud, can you do that for me, petal?” You simply nod your head in agreement. At your nod of confirmation, Namjoon directs his eyes back towards the notepad and begins scribbling down the characters.

You try to steal a peek at his writing but to no avail as he quickly shuffles the notepad out of view and shoots you a playful glare, paired with that teasing smirk he wore sometimes. In the meantime, you take the time to study his features.

The glow of flickering flames from the fireplace you had set alite earlier in the evening highlighting his complexion, softly discoloured by the hues of orange. The fire accentuating the honey bronzed glow of his cheeks. The way his glasses sit, occasionally making a small descent down the bridge, only to be softly pushed back into their original position. Brows furrowed in concentration. It’s moments like these that make him being away for so long worth it. He truly is comfort personified.

Namjoon removes his glasses and crawls closer to you as he sits down, placing each leg on either side of you, capturing you in the middle. You wrap your own legs around his waist whilst he places the notepad in between the both of you. You lift up the abundance of paper and allow your eyes to search for the words Namjoon has spelled out for you.

Staring, you give yourself a minute to read it in your head, trying to remember everything the man in front of you has taught you about the pronunciation of his language. You look next to the word to find the translation from Korean into English. It is something Namjoon always does for you, knowing you would take it in and remember the words more easily when you had the translation to hand. But you come up short when you realise that there is no meaning written next to the small symbols, but instead a small, scribbled heart.

You take a moment to yourself to steal a glance at him, capturing his eyes in subtle contact before breaking it to look back at the paper. You softly whisper the words out loud in the open.

Namjoon places a gentle hand under your jaw, pushing your head back up to catch the flicker in his eyes. “I asked you to look at me when you read it out.” He chuckles softly.

Delicately, you whisper the words in front of you with mere confidence at your pronunciation. Something you had a habit of doing, not one hundred percent confident in your abilities quite yet.

Namjoon smiles, keeping eye contact. His hand moves from your jaw to the side of your neck. Your heartbeat increases slightly at the proximity. With the pad of his thumb, he smooths the skin on the apple of your cheeks back and forth, a blush forming visibly beneath the light of the fire beside you. The gesture is subtle but it is enough to have your eyes fall shut, lashes fluttering across your cheeks and breathing in as much air into your lungs as you can.

He crooks his head to the side, slotting himself perfectly against your forehead, nose grazing against yours only very slightly, rubbing up and down. You swallow hard. The tension between you both is growing significantly.

The smell of Namjoon's aftershave is filling in what is left of the small space between your bodies. Spice and sandalwood, with a hint of peony from the detergent he washes his shirts in currently adorning his well sculpted upper body.

“W-what does it mean?” You stutter out, voice breaking and pitch raising at the end. You lick your lips in anticipation of his answer. His lips were barely an inch apart - the slightest of movement would have you kiss him.

Like he read your mind, “It means,” his whisper washes heat across your skin, “kiss me.”

Without hesitation, without second thought, you grab your notepad and throw it out of the way, hearing it hit the floor with a soft thud before moving to straddle his waist. Your lips finally press hard against his soft pillowy lips, your arms swinging around his neck, one hand entangling at the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging at the soft strands with slight pressure.

You can't keep your lips off each other, the kiss all tongue and teeth. A little on the messy side yet intimate and full of emotion.

Namjoon suddenly breaks your lips apart, removes your legs from around his waist and places you down softly on top of the comforter. He swiftly follows you down and reattaches his lips to yours once again. Your boyfriend's mouth is warm and soft, wine glazing his lips, a taste so delicious that it consumes you. You feel him remove one hand from your waist over your ass, giving you a light squeeze. Catching the moan you serve in his mouth. Namjoon smiles in the kiss, never getting enough of how vocal in bed you can be.

Namjoon has other ideas in his head and eventually rolls you both over in one motion, pushing himself up to rest against the headboard with you situated on top of his thigh instead.

You hiss at the sensation of having the muscles of his quads tensed below you. They have been becoming much more prominent due to the heavy leg workouts he has been participating in recently.

He bends forward to your ear, biting the shell and tugging it slightly, the sound of his heavy breathing in your ear spurring you on to grind a little harder in his lap.

His hands leave a burning trail of goosebumps on your own thighs due to the lack of clothing you have been wearing. Just one of Namjoons khaki shirts thrown on for comfort, barely meeting your mid thigh and simple black pair of boyshorts.

As he grabs your ass and pulls you towards him, Namjoon tenses his thigh and grinds you down on top of his sweats, giving you access to feel everything beneath you, your clit pressed against your shorts, just enough to give you the friction you so desire. A dark spot begins to form due to how wet the man beneath you had you.

Namjoon has set his pace to savor the moment but it's painfully slow for you, trying to continuously move back and forth forcefully over his thigh at a faster speed. He doesn’t think you could look any more beautiful than at that moment.

“Shit…oh, fuck,” you whisper as your arousal gradually begins to rise. You look down to see that Namjoon has grown semi hard, the obvious tent in his sweats showing. “Keep going, please,” you mutter breathlessly.

Without argument, he begins rocking you back and forth on his thigh in a moderately fast and steady rhythm. His lips find home on your neck, nipping at the skin every so often, littering your skin in magenta blemishes. Namjoon tugs at the side of your shirt, exposing your collarbone, proceeding to lick and tease the skin, knowing how sensitive you are there. The speed of his hands rocking you back and forth quickening.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you tell him, squeezing your eyes shut and wanting nothing more than to focus on the pleasure he's giving you from something as simple as riding his thigh. It's just a matter of time before you feel that tight knot in your stomach, one hand squeezing his shoulder and the other tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You’re such a dirty girl, huh? Riding yourself on my thigh, making yourself cum and we’ve only just started.” His voice is low and husky. Suddenly, he moves a hand from your hips, sliding it up your shirt to gently squeeze one of your breasts and taking the nipple in between his pointer finger and thumb and squeezing softly. “Come on baby, cum for me, yeah?” he moaned.

“I’m gonna..” Before the last part of the sentence leaves your mouth, the knot in your stomach breaks and the first waves of an orgasm wash over your body, causing you to writhe all over him as a loud moan escapes your lips.

“That’s it baby. You’re so fucking gorgeous, you know that? I can’t wait to have my way with you.” He moans, keeping you in his lap whilst you come down from your high. Your breathing picking up, heart pounding louder in your chest. Namjoon can see a sliver of dark patches, remnants of your orgasm on his grey sweats. His dick throbs and mouth waters at the sight.

Namjoon swaps you back into your original position with him on top. He grips the hem of your shirt and pulls it off, not long followed by your damp boyshorts. He can feel the evidence of your lust for him as he places his hands down on top of your still fairly sensitive pussy, fingers spreading your lips apart, cum from your orgasm glistening in the light from the still burning stonefire lighting the room. When Namjoon had thought you couldn’t look more beautiful moments ago, he'd been wrong. Post orgasm you is truly a sight.

“Shit, you’re soaked for me, aren’t you, petal?” he growls lowly.

“Only for you,” you respond. Your eyes close as your breathing just starts getting back to normal, missing Namjoon placing his fingers in his mouth, wetting them before dragging it down your chest and navel to press inside of you.

Your back arches off the bed as a loud moan escapes your mouth. Nothing could ever prepare you for his fingers. Long and slender. His fingertips feel rough against your skin, but the warmth of it all is more consuming.

Namjoon pushes right in, curls his finger for barely a few seconds before pulling out. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows how to tease you. Knows how to always make you crave more.

He pushes back in, in a steady rhythm - pulling any sounds he can from you. He listens to you like you're creating the most beautiful melodies. He is creating art from your body.

“You want more?”

As good as one finger felt, it would never compare to being filled up further. “Yes, please,” your voice dragging out each syllable.

Two fingers sink inside you with ease, scissoring you open and grinding against your clit with his palm, still keeping his pace, his rings adding a new sense of pleasure as he continues to fuck you with his digits. Your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“You like being fucked like this huh? Can’t get enough of my fingers?” As he continues his ministrations - rubbing into the bundle of nerves, he adds another finger, completely stretching you out all the while dipping his head down to suck on your clit very lightly.

You meet his eyes, dark and filled with love and lust for everything you’re giving him. “Yes, I-!” you breathe out, “think I’m gonna cum.” Immediately, Namjoon moves away from you, ripping you away from the edge.

You watch in shock of having your orgasm ripped from you as Namjoon lifts himself up, removing his shirt from his body before pulling down his sweats, leaving him in his boxers. When you look down, you see a wet patch of his precum on the material. “You’re doing so well for me huh, Princess? But the only way I want you to cum next is wrapped around me,” he whispers to you as he grabs your head in both of his hands and kisses you with fiery passion.

Your left hand rests on top of his shoulders, running down the expansion of his pectoral muscles while your other trails down his hard chest. Those workouts gracing him beautifully all over his body.

You never could get enough of him.

Your hands reach their destination and start palming your boyfriend through his boxers. He was fully hard underneath it all, looking near painful through the constricting material and you couldn’t wait to finally have him buried deep within you.

“Fuck, if you keep that up, I’ll cum right here,” Namjoon moans out, voice rough and low, head thrown back.

“Maybe that’s the point,” you tease with a sultry smile.

“I can never get enough of you, you know that.”

Namjoon decides you had enough time playing about as he crawls backwards off the bed to strip himself of his boxers. Cock fully erect, standing proud and pink against the softness of his belly and completely saturated in precum.

He brings a hand to his shaft and strokes himself all while keeping eye-contact with you - the wetness smeared around your thighs from having been fucked by his fingers only moments ago. You’re staring at every muscle that moves in his arms as they flex with the movement, mouth simply salivating. You’ll never get enough of him either.

Namjoon wastes no time in climbing back on top of you. He grabs each wrist and pins them above your head. “Don’t move them. This is what you get for being such a tease.” He dips his head and as if on cue, his mouth meets yours with a gentle kiss. Soft lips sucking on your bottom lip. Even when he’s dominating, he never loses his sensitive side, heat reaching your face.

“Joon, please..” You whimper . “Fuck me, I need you now.”

He released a growl so deep from his chest that your pussy flutters around nothing. Both of you are covered in sweat. He looks like sex personified. He lowers himself, centring himself at your pussy, reaching down and lining himself.

He takes a few moments to grip his cock and rubs the head up and down through your folds and against your clit. The visual of his precum intermixing with your own, giving him the perfect lubrication for him to cover his cock with before sliding in with ease, his cock deeply buried inside you with one quick motion.

After letting you adjust for a moment, he starts to move. Slowly, pulling out fully before pushing all the way in again. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet. Did you enjoy getting yourself off on me, Petal?”

“Shit, shit”, you breath heavily as he thrusts against your cervix again and again, never missing a beat, your eyes glazing with unshed tears at the brute force of his thrusts. You lose yourself deep in the pleasure you’re receiving, placing burning hot kisses to Namjoons neck. Gripping and tugging at the sheets below you, the room filled with panting, moaning; biting and scratching, whispers of passionate affection against his skin.

“Jesus, I can feel you clenching around me. Nothing ever feels as good as this, petal. You love my big cock, don’t you? How does it feel having it buried inside you, baby?”

There is no time to bear a response before he pulls out, rolls you onto your front, grips your hair to press himself and fuck back into you at a relentless pace. Namjoon wraps an arm around your waist, keeping his hand on your belly and fucks you harder. You hiss. You didn’t think it was possible for him to go any deeper.

Digging his face into your neck, he resumes kissing and sucking red ruby marks into your skin as your second orgasm of the night balances on the tip of the edge. Even at this pace that he fucks you, the passion never leaves.

“I feel you getting close again, princess. I know you have it in you to give me one more. Fuck, I’m close too, this is what you do to me. No one else will ever see you like this. You’re mine,” your boyfriend grunts into your ear as he moves his hand past your navel and starts to furiously rub circles on your clit. The feeling of your pussy wrapped around him bringing him closer to euphoria.

Your back bent forward, your knees threaten to give up when your second orgasm tears through you. Your voice breaks, hoarse and dry from all the moaning as you scream out his name, like the only prayer you know to sing. Luckily, Namjoon has given you support to stay upright; otherwise you would have hit the bed in mere seconds, muscles convulsing due to the overstimulation you endure.

Namjoon places you down on all fours. You keep clenching around Namjoon's cock, an aftershock of your pussy being pushed to its limits. Namjoon grips you by the hips and pulls you off and on his cock, spurring him on to reach his own high.

He watches your ass bounce and shake as he thrusts into you, smacking your ass in the process. You lift your hips in sensitivity, feel his relentless, hard thrusts begin to dissipate before Namjoon falls down just above you as he cums inside you. Rope after rope of thick cum filling you up. He grips at your hips hard in his high as he keeps you from moving, wanting to get as deep inside you as he possibly can.

Namjoon stays there for some time, not able to move after experiencing such a powerful orgasm, the warmth of your walls snug against him. Cockwarming is something you did often after sex due to the closeness it brings.

Namjoon eventually pulls out his now softened cock from your walls, and all you can do is moan exhaustively as you hit the bed, wiping the beads of sweat that have formed on your forehead. Namjoon removes himself from the bed and wanders over to the bathroom in search of a damp towel for you to clean yourself with.

By the time he comes back, you have worked yourself through your post-sex euphoria and sleep weighs heavily on your lids. Namjoon opens up your legs slowly before dragging a finger up your thigh and back into your pussy, making sure to push the leaking cum back in one more time before cleaning you up. You hiss as the damp cloth rubs over your clit.

Namjoon lays down beside you, pulling you onto his side. There is a comfortable silence between you both as you stare at each other, all rosy cheeks and eyes full of admiration for each other before he rises up again, the fire accenting every beautiful feature from his post sex bliss. You can’t believe he’s yours.

“Let’s run you a bath while I change the sheets before we head to bed, yeah?” Smiling softly, you take his hand in yours as he leads you to the bathroom, leg still slightly shaky. He sits you down on the closed lid of the toilet all while running the water and adding in your favorite grapefruit bubble bath. He helps you in and you close your eyes, basking in the relaxation your muscles are enduring.

“Joon?” you question, hoping he's still in the room.

“Yes, petal?”

“Can you join me?” you ask quietly.

“Of course, my love, just let me change the sheets real quick.” Just as he's about to exit the bathroom, he turns back around and looks at you.

“And petal…” he says as he folds his arms over his chest, smiling away sweetly. You look up at him, letting him finish what he was saying.

“I am so proud of you.”

1K notes · View notes

sneezefiction · 4 years ago

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soft karasuno sleepover

Karasuno x Reader - Sleepover Headcanons

anon request: “please make a karasuno version of the sleepover headcanons!”

a/n: when the haikyuu manga ended, my heart kinda dropped and i was feeling a bit low. writing this was a bit like like honey to the soul. i hope you enjoy some Karasuno team fluff and sweetness!

warnings: none!

wc: 1050

---

let’s be honest, the Karasuno boys have already hosted several team sleepovers

they’re usually held at the school gym, as long as they can get permission from the principal

it’s typically just the guys, but since you only became a manager this past month, Noya and Tanaka are insisting (begging on hands and knees) that you, Kiyoko, and Yachi join them this time

you’re skeptical that this will go well but, all things considered, this is an interesting (if not disastrous) opportunity to get to know everyone

so you roll with it, trying to get a read on the crazy boys you’ll be spending a lot of time with over the next year

but when the time comes for the sleepover, you barely make it into the building before hearing Hinata screeching and Kageyama... well, he’s calling Hinata an idiot repeatedly

so nothing seems out of the ordinary… yet

you’re greeted by a softly smiling Yamaguchi and Tsukki, who loosely trails after him, a look of regret plastered to his face

“Y/n! Daichi said to help you with your pillows and bags while he and Suga buy snacks from the store. Can I grab anything for you?”

so you let Yams help you get set up while Tsukki off-handedly comments that you could definitely lay out your own sleeping bag

but you get sassy right back at him and Tsukishima loses some of his colder edge, opting to consider you as “interesting” instead of “another person born for the purpose of bothering him,” as Hinata likes to put it

it’s not long before Asahi notices you, the gentle giant waving at you with a sweet grin and starts to walk over to you

but this only alerts Nishinoya of your presence

which is actually kind of terrifying bc the enthusiastic libero is bolting towards you at full-speed with no intention of hitting the brakes

“Y/n, you came!!!” Noya’s yell echoes across the gym, successfully ending your final moments of peace for the night

you’re almost tackled to the ground, but Daichi arrives just in time to grab him by the collar and save you from impending doom and an aching back

both Suga and Asahi are apologizing for Nishinoya’s “outburst” while Daichi chews both Noya and Tanaka out (even though Tanaka didn’t do anything??)

thankfully, things calm down a tad after that and you’re now in the hands of Kiyoko and Yachi who arrived shortly after you did

the girls place their stuff and sleeping bags near yours, but Daichi is sure to put Ennoshita and Asahi nearby so that you can have peace of mind that you won’t be attacked by sharpie’s and curious gazes after dark

and after a little more fighting and catching up, everyone plops down onto their pillows for a little game of (what was supposed to be) truth or dare

but thanks to “The Unmentionable Bottle-flipping Incident,” (courtesy of Sugawara, Tanaka, and Noya) Daichi has banned the dare part. so it’s basically a glorified “20 questions”

at the request of Hinata, you’re the first to answer questions:

“Okay, y/n… what makes someone ‘family’?” the bubbly, orange-haired boy reads off a question from a p*nterest post

“What the hell, Hinata?” Tanaka and Suga say simultaneously

“Uh, yeah, most people start with stuff like, ‘What’s your favorite color?’ But you’re an idiot, so what was I expecting anyways…” Tsukki rambles quietly to himself, a smirk growing on his and Yamaguchi’s faces

Kageyama had literally zoned out until he heard the word stupid and then joined everyone in insulting Hinata (but Kags isn’t sure why. It’s second-nature at this point.)

Yachi is attempting to reign everyone in, doing damage control, and apologizing to you for the commotion at the same time

but your sweet, unexpected laughter brings them out of their bickering, sparing Hinata more grief than he can physically handle

“It’s okay, Hinata. I don’t mind answering this one.” your voice is reassuring, everyone’s attention centering back onto you

you’ve only spent a month or so with the team, so you’re still learning about each and every one of them… but you’ve never felt more at home than when you were surrounded by their comforting chaos

they never seemed to judge you for things you didn’t know. they didn’t question your intellect or disrespect you. even Tsukki, who’s salty as all hell, tolerates you and lets you get in on some of his and Yamaguchi’s inside jokes

so you answer as honestly as possible,

“I think someone becomes family when they welcome you just as you are. When you’re treated as equals but also as an individual, I guess.” you pause, considering your next words

but their attentive gazes beckon you to continue

“...And I think you all fit that ‘family’ mold pretty well.” you beam, your smile reaching your eyes even though you feel heat rising to your chest and face

Yachi has tears welling up in her eyes, her hands covering her mouth and Kiyoko’s gaze softens

the third years are speechless and Hinata is copying your bright smile. Kageyama actually looks kind of… touched? and Tsukki maintains his disinterested disposition, but secretly he’s intrigued by your words

“Well, in case you were wondering, y/n, we already think of you as family here.” Daichi manages to get out, still processing your incredibly precious answer

before you can say anything, Noya has already gotten to his feet, jumped over to you, and has you wrapped in the biggest hug

and everyone else joins, practically dogpiling on top of you until you finally have to tap out for the sake of not being stuck under them forever

the rest of the night is filled with laughter & “Hinata, boke!” & chocolate & Sugawara trying to convince Daichi to let him try “that” dare one more time because, and i quote, “i’m the vice-captain and I deserve to have a say in this!”

although you don’t get much sleep, you’ve pretty much hit the jackpot with these kids

because out of all the people you could’ve met, all the teams you might have managed, never would you have felt so at home if it hadn’t been for Karasuno’s volleyball team

now you’re a part of their wild family... and there’s nothing you can do about it

---

soft team sleepover series

soft shiratorizawa sleepover

soft seijoh sleepover

soft nekoma sleepover

soft fukurodani sleepover (in progress)

—-

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

#haikyuu #kageyama x reader #tsukishima x reader #sugawara x reader #daichi x reader #asahi x reader #yamaguchi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu imagines #hinata x reader #yachi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #sneezefiction

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an-annyeoing-writer · 3 years ago

Text

vulnerability. – chap. 3.

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 29th July 2021

Word count: 4 219

Warnings: none

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi–kpop–fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @devotedexolnhottest @mingxia-nikki04 @velvetjongin @ssssssul (won't let me tag you T_T) @nemi-mei @buttercupbbh

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you’re shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Chap. 2.)

Chap. 3.

The tension that appeared the moment you received the phone call from Baekhyun did not dissolve with time. In fact, the opposite happened – it grew as the time passed, and as Saturday came closer and closer. Finally, once your Friday to Saturday night shift came to an end and you stumbled into your flat around 4 in the morning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep easily. Yet, you forced a whole cup of green tea into yourself in an attempt to soothe your nerves before sleep. Your alarm was set for noon, and you were supposed to meet at 3 PM.

You woke up feeling energized, but you knew this pattern all too well already – the tiredness would come and hit you with its whole power the day after, and you’d spend Sunday sluggish and drained. But that was okay, because Sunday didn’t matter half as much as Saturday did.

You felt a small urge to dress up; even more, actually, you felt a need to pay attention to details rather than looking fine at the first glance. Some common sense hyped up by years of watching other people and reading stories – a thorough shower, shaving, paying attention to not only what you wore outside, but also your undergarments. You lacked things that could be considered “sexy”, but – let’s face it – you didn’t think it mattered much; not after what you’d found out so far. Yet, it would be a shame if your panties had a hole in them. Wearing something neutral, but fresh was your best bet. Every few minutes, you kept reminding yourself – you don’t even know what will happen, you don’t even know if anything will happen at all. There was no reason to think that he’ll want you to undress in the first place, you said it yourself that you’re not ready for sex.

But then, it still helped you gather confidence that you definitely needed at a moment like that. Details allowed one less thing to worry about, and a better ability to focus on others, and so, you made sure the details were worked out well, and that you didn’t overdress, either; a beige shirt and jeans, all wrapped up with sneakers and another knitted cardigan of yours – neutral and polite, maybe a bit school-ish, but these were the things you mostly wore on daily basis, and you felt that going in the other direction – of tight pants, mini-skirts and see-through shirts – would not be appreciated. Your hair was pulled up into a loose bun, nothing like the ones you admired in YT tutorials, but the best you could do on your own. Maybe it was the age difference that made you feel obliged to show respect rather than expose yourself. You trusted your instinct on that, and so far, nothing happened yet to prove it wrong. The weather was starting to get warmer; these days were particularly sunny and dry, so you felt at ease without an extra jacket. It couldn’t get that bad in the evening, and you put faith in your cardigan.

Baekhyun must have thought similarly.

You stood in the bar’s entry, looking up at him for a moment; he leaned back into his usual couch, not aware of your presence just yet. He was wearing a black button-up and jeans as well, something he still looked pretty well put-together in, but not too formal – similar to your own thought process, noticeably.

You inhaled deeply, and took your time to exhale the air – until you felt ready to walk up to him.

“Hi there” he spoke as you approached his couch; as expected, he was there alone today.

“Hi there” you replied with a slight nod and a smile; your voice was quiet, as quiet as it could be without trembling in anticipation.

“You want to drink something before we go?”

You considered it for a second, and then nodded again. Baekhyun moved a bit to the side, encouraging you to join him on the couch, and you took the offer with gratitude.

“Beer? I don’t want to get you drunk, but we may sit here for a bit just to relax.”

“You can tell I need it?”

“Yes. I can tell. Your shoulders are very tense. May I?”

His hand reached to your shoulder and you nodded slightly, a bit unsure what you agreed to just yet.

He suddenly squeezed your muscle, and you whimpered. He kneaded it, and you found the tension dissolving gradually as he went on. Even with only one hand and unfavorable position, he managed to find some of the spots that required touch; that touch was welcome, slight pain coming along with it was desired for the best outcome. You didn’t notice when Baekhyun must have given the bartender some sort of a sign, but the man soon came with a beer and water that he put on the nearby table. That was when Baekhyun’s movement slowly ceased, cautiously letting go of your shoulders. You felt as if you were in a different body, the tension in your body almost gone, just as the one in your mind – the moments of physical interaction were enough to chase some of your worries away.

“You don’t drink?” You reached towards the table – it was closer to you than to him – and took the two glasses, handing him the water and keeping the beer for yourself.

“Not before,” he explained curtly, which you accepted without further questioning.

“So… what are we gonna do?” you asked carefully, sipping the beer through a metal straw, trying to give off a casual vibe despite focusing deeply on what you were about to hear.

“Depends. On how much will you allow me to do.” Baekhyun focused his gaze on something in the crowd; you felt as though it was his habit to avoid a direct gaze in an attempt to sound collected. “I had the idea of showing you some things. Just so you feel it out a little. It’s not final, but it may help the both of us figure out how we feel about it. Like a free trial, you see my point?” You nodded, but didn’t say anything, so after a moment he continued. “I won’t introduce you to everything, and it won’t last as long as usual sessions, either. I’ll talk to you a bit beforehand so we figure out some basic things. It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I won’t be trying anything beyond your comfort zone.”

“So, no deals a’la Fifty shades?” you felt silly the moment these words left your mouth. Baekhyun laughed awkwardly.

“No, it won’t be necessary. If you want to draw a comparison to that, I definitely won’t be dumping the whole scheme on you when you don’t even know what it’s like.”

And you won’t fuck me first thing in the plot, you added in your thoughts.

“There are a few things that I may ask you here, so that we have those out of the way,” he spoke; his tone lowered a little. “I need you to tell me if you have any illnesses or old injures that could influence your physical capacity.”

You thought for a bit; the answer was important, but you couldn’t recall much.

“I don’t think there’s anything important.”

“Is there anything unimportant?” His gaze pierced through you as he caught on your wording.

“Uh… I’m taking pills for my thyroid, but it’s nothing very dramatic” you explained. “Nothing else that I know of.”

Baekhyun nodded slowly.

“Fair. Next question, is there anything you’re particularly scared of? Phobias, or things you’re scared of in general, anything overly triggering that you want to avoid at all costs?” You already revealed some of these during your first conversation. But now you felt more at ease, and you thought you could be more detailed without sounding overwhelming.

“I’m… scared of fire. And hate my hair being pulled. I don’t know, why. I can’t explain it. It’s just…”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself to me” Baekhyun looked at you with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “You sound like it would stress you out to share. You don’t need to be afraid of that. You don’t owe me anything, keep that in mind. It’s not supposed to feel like an obligation.”

“I-I know.”

“I’m scared of heights, by the way.” You stared at him in confusion. “Hm? Just thought it’s fair to share if you did.”

“Oh.”

“Chill out.” He nudged your glass with his hand to urge you to drink some more of the beer you managed to forget about by then. It was halfway through – you didn’t want to leave the glass with some of it still inside, although it managed to make you feel just a bit sick already.

His own drink was at around the same level too, and as you finished yours, he drank the remaining water in one go as well.

You weren’t the best at handling alcohol, and even the small amounts made you a bit weak in the knees. But you felt sober enough as the two of you finally got up; Baekhyun paid for your drinks and you left the bar.

The weather was nice, as expected. Going out into the sunlight again startled you, somehow; you felt as though a lot of time had already passed. But no, it was still the same afternoon.

It was true that Baekhyun lived nearby. His apartment was in a different direction than your place, though, and you estimated it would take around twenty minutes to get from one place to the other. You knew this area, although not too well – there were only some tenement houses, but no stores or academic buildings that could gain your attention or regular presence. It was on the more expensive side, although not a place a well off office worker wouldn’t afford; just maybe not suitable for a student. The tenement houses were old, but well-kept, and you knew that the apartments were way bigger than in a place like yours.

Opening the door for you, Baekhyun invited you into the dark hallway of his apartment. There were no lights, as every wall had doors to other rooms: two to the left, one at the end of the corridor, and two more to the right, perfectly symmetric.

“Kitchen, my office, bathroom, my bedroom, and the living room,” the man told you, starting from the left. One glance into the living room on the right made you realize just how big the rooms were; enormous, in your honest opinion, with the area of something around a classroom at school, but with ceilings that reached far up, almost twice higher than in your own place. Heavy curtains hung from the top of the tall windows like limp branches of a willow tree, giving the most dramatic effect, and – likely – gathering tons of dust throughout their lifetime. Wooden, carved furniture added to the effect, and you, in all your sincerity, would not dare to ask how much such a set cost, although it would be a lie to say that you weren’t curious. Wooden panels on the floor were already worn and grey, giving you a thought that the interiors were kept in this particular shape for long years before Baekhyun began to reside in there.

“That’s huge,” you only uttered. Your eyes rested on a painting in the middle of a wall on the left side of the room, above an eclectic-green, velvet couch, in front of which was a wooden coffee table, and which gave a perfect sight into an old TV on the side of the room, as it was one of the old-styled, small models that would be hard to look at from the distance between one wall and the other. The painting looked old, but you wondered from the distance, whether it was not just printed in good quality, with all the details of lights, people and nature making it look like a piece of national heritage rather than a small private property. It portrayed a battle scene coming to an end, warriors in shining armor stained with blood resting upon trees and a small pond of pinkish water, at either sunset or sunrise – you weren’t sure.

“You like it?” He caught your stare and followed it, giving himself a few seconds to adore the painting as well, as though he hadn’t looked at it enough despite living here.

“It’s too violent,” you decided after a moment. “But it’s nice to look at.”

“It’s not that violent in itself, I think. But it does conjure the thought of it.”

He left the living room with you still in the doorframe, staying to look at the painting just for a few more seconds. When you turned around, he was entering the kitchen – this room also looked old, but less well kept; it was cleaned up perfectly, however the furniture was shabby, with the surfaces often partly rubbed off and grey; this room simply screamed for renovation. But you felt way more at ease with the fact that it looked similar to yours – the one that was over twenty years old when you moved with and you had no way of changing it without getting in trouble with the landlord. And not like you’d want to do it at all, since you’d move out right after your studies anyway. The only difference was that you tried to make your apartment look a bit warmer with colorful lights and other cheap ornaments here and there, while Baekhyun’s kitchen was just left as it was, as though he gave up on it the moment he moved in.

“Hungry?”

“Not much.” You were still full of the freshly consumed beer.

Out of the fridge, Baekhyun took a bag of half-eaten potato chips. You stared at him with your eyebrow raised as he ate a few of these, and then extended the bag towards you, to which you only shook your head and he put the bag back in the fridge. He caught your look.

“Food moths,” he explained. You slowly nodded in understanding. That’d be a useful tip if you ever got those. The summer was slowly coming; soon, your small apartment would also be filled with bugs, and fruit flies, mosquitos, and sciarids because you kept a few plants in (discovering that sciarids and fruit flies were not the same thing was an important step in achieving perfect harmony in your adulthood).

You sat awkwardly by the table, observing him as he reached for the bag he must have left on the counter before he went to pick you up, and took out leftovers – probably from work – putting them back in the fridge.

“You worked today?” you asked.

“Yeah, just an average thing, a strategic meeting with co-workers. My working hours are not regular, so I didn’t really know I was gonna be out today.”

Once he was done, he sat by the table as well, and you leaned a bit forward, resting your chin on top of your hand.

“You could have postponed it with me, you must be tired,” you said.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather have a chance to relax with you.”

That didn’t sound as innocent as he probably tried to make it, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t scare you with the choice of words. You only laughed awkwardly.

“Anyway. Since, as I said, I don’t want to intimidate you, I think we’ll stay in the living room since you seemed content with that,” he spoke casually.

“So, no playroom?” you uttered. Baekhyun choked on the chip in his mouth.

“I don’t own such a place. I just usually use the bedroom. Or the bathroom,” he explained.

“Or the office?” you felt bold enough to suggest, giving him a small smirk.

“No, I assure you the office is for what offices usually are.”

You smiled innocently as Baekhyun stared at you, probably trying to mask sudden shyness.

“Either way,” he cleared his throat. “I told you some about what I want to do, but you haven’t told me if there’s anything you’re interested in trying out. I assume you did see some things, so… Is there anything that you’ve been particularly interested in?”

The harmless way in which he phrased the question absolutely didn’t change the fact that he was, basically, asking what kind of porn you watch.

“I uh… I like watching different things, just out of curiosity, but I’m not really sure if there’s anything I like particularly more than other things… I suppose bondage is the biggest basic.” You tried, you really tried to sound neutral, but your voice trembled a little. “But I’m not really sure, to be honest. I’m quite open-minded, I suppose…” You felt silly; how could you not be able to answer the most basic question – what do you like? But Baekhyun seemed to understand that very well, as he only nodded slowly.

“What about, let’s say, pet play?” You blushed slightly. “You know what I’m talking about? I feel like a lot of young women start from there.” It took you a moment to realize that you, too, were a young woman. “Behavioral training. Humiliation. Regression. A bit of pain, if suitable. Trying out a few things to see how you respond. What do you think?”

“I think it may be fun” you said slowly. “Does it have something to do with the…?” you motioned your neck, hoping he’ll get the cue. You remembered the collars the other people wore – they were the main reason you got interested in the first place, after all. Baekhyun smiled, catching on your observation.

“Sometimes, but not necessarily. It’s just a thing I like. Do you?”

“…I may,” you answered carefully.

“Gotcha. We may try it out. You know, everyone is different. The collars are different too. I usually order them after I’m sure the person’s gonna stay, and when I know what type will be the most suitable for them. I can’t do that for you yet, but I have some spare items.”

“Do you have the ones of people who you’re not with anymore?” you asked, out of pure curiosity.

Baekhyun was silent for a moment.

“I do. But I’d rather not use them. They’re there for memory, not for use.”

“Gotcha. I was just curious,” you quickly explained.

“Do you have a safe-word?” Baekhyun’s gaze rested on you.

“…Not really. Never needed one,” you uttered sheepishly.

“You have anything on your mind?”

“Um, the… thing with lights? The red light, yellow and green?” you proposed carefully.

“That’s a good one. Tell me how you understand them.”

“So, the green one means everything’s alright, the yellow is when we need to slow down, and the red stops the scene,” you recited, as if you were reading from a book.

“That’s right. It’s easy to remember, so we can go with that.” You bit on your lips to prevent yourself from getting too excited with the apparent praise; it wasn’t anything big, of course – but you felt as though it was a praise in itself, being acknowledged for saying something right. “Another thing is that I need you to know a few rules, before we start.” You were all ears. “First, I don’t want you to be reluctant for the fun of it. Whether you want to be a brat later or not, today we’re just trying things out and I don’t want to mistake your attitude with actual discomfort, do you understand?” You nodded slowly, memorizing the words and waiting for him to continue. “Second. No pain that I will impose on you will be a matter of punishment, unless I specify so. If you don’t enjoy it, you need to tell me so. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop right away, unless – of course – you use the safe-word. However, I still expect honesty. During, as well as after the scene, when we review it. Do you understand?” The breaks in between the points gave you enough time to acknowledge the information and encode it in your memory. You nodded once again. “And for the last. Do you trust me?”

The tone made you look up at him, finally focusing on his person rather than the words alone.

“I do,” you finally decided; knowing very well what this answer would lead to.

Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at you warmly.

“Well then, shall we start?”

* * *

You stand in the middle of the room, the cardigan and shoes are off, your feet feel cold against the floor despite socks wrapped around them comfortingly.

Don’t move a finger, you’ve been told, and so, you stare at the painting before you, the warrior in the front staring at you back with contempt you haven’t noticed before.

Your breath trembles in anticipation as you try to hear sounds from other rooms – you do hear some shuffling, but nothing that you can figure out for sure. He must be in his bedroom, you think. What is he preparing? Which tools out of many that you’ve seen on the screen of your phone all these nights that, despite spending perfect eight hours in bed, did not end in getting perfect eight hours of sleep?

Your arm itches, but you fight the urge to scratch it; be obedient, he said.

Steps echo in the corridor and you hold your breath. Your head snaps to the side the moment you hear him enter the room again.

“Eyes down,” he commands without sparing you a glance; you haven’t had enough time to see what he brought, but you instantly obey his words. “Don’t look at me unless I allow you to.” His voice is stern, and it makes your stomach clench nervously. But it’s not a bad sensation, not at all – you grow excited. “Down. On your knees.”

You try to comply, but he still scoffs at your apparent sluggishness. You almost fall over as you let your knees bend and you finally kneel down as well as you can, eyes facing down as well, although you feel awkward as you do so.

“On your toes,” Baekhyun commands; something small but hard hits your heels, startling you, and your head whips around to see a wooden pointing stick. You swallow the gasp of surprise at the sight.

You fix your posture, your toes instantly begin to cramp; that’s uncomfortable, and your toes aren’t too flexible, it seems.

“Straighten your back. You’re slouching.”

The task turns out almost impossible to do, the whole weight lands on your toes and you frown in discomfort.

“Is it necessary…?”

“Look at me.” It feels unnatural to do so now, but you oblige, turning your head to the side where he stands. “What’s wrong?”

“My toes hurt,” you admit quietly. Baekhyun watches you for a moment.

“Straighten them. Kneel as you did before.” You bite your lips and nod, uttering a small thank you that you find suitable enough as the position gets a bit more comfortable. “Back. Straighten.”

You automatically snap back into the position. But it does feel a bit silly – like something your teachers would say, don’t slouch! A laughter comes out at the comparison, but you attempt to stifle it.

Apparently, not well enough.

The pointer hits the nape of your neck; not too hard, but the message gets through.

Baekhyun stands in front of you and, most likely, stares you down – you can’t tell; your gaze is fixated on his lacquered shoes. The shoes then move, kicking the middle of your thighs.

“Spread.”

You feel a bit awkward as you oblige this command; you only glance down to make sure your pants aren’t ripped – you never know. To your relief, they’re not. Then you try to glance forward – but, what’s in front of you, makes you more shy than anything, so you just fix your gaze on his knees instead.

“You’re slouching again.”

“Pets often do,” you note before you manage to bite your tongue; you do remember your conversation from before – wasn’t it what he was aiming for? You thought so at first. But the words were not thought through at all; you just felt a need to say something, anything, just like you’d talk back to a teacher when they became too annoying in their remarks.

You hold your breath as Baekhyun crouches down to your level.

You feel his eyes on you, and you unwittingly tremble under his gaze, forcing yourself to look even lower, not daring to break the rule. The seconds seem to last hours as he doesn’t speak a word – and he doesn’t have to. You feel intimidated.

“You want to be a pet?”

He stands up; he’s right in front of you, if you so much as leaned forward a little bit, your forehead would touch his thigh. You slightly crave the touch; but not enough to move, not when you grow petrified. The question is rhetorical. You wait for him to finish the thought.

“Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Without waiting for your reaction, he steps behind you. You hear shuffling in what had to be a box placed behind your back; you see nothing.

But you hear the harsh, recognizable clink of metal and your stomach drops.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: Hello, have you missed me??? I'm sorry it took so long to upload, it's hard to find time among exams I had in June, and now my (first) new job! The next chapter is already being written, so hopefully, won't take that long. Remember to reblog if you liked, and I'll be really happy to hear what you have to say about this so far. Stay safe!

Next (Chapter 4.)

#exowritersnet #kdiarynet #bbh-net #exosnet #exo baekhyun #exo bbh #bbh x reader #bbh #exo #byun baekhyun #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfiction #exo x reader #baekhyun x reader #vg: vulnerability #vg: exo #vg: baekhyun #vg: series

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

HASO, “Approaching Countdown.”

Had to write this at work today, so sorry it is short.

The GA chairwoman stood in the oppressive muggy heart of Earth. She really hated it, it made her skin itch and her eyes sting, there wasn’t enough water in their atmosphere to actually cause her any harm, but there was definitely enough of it to make her very uncomfortable. A part of her had hoped that it might rain, forcing her to stay off world for the weather formation, but these humans knew what they were doing and had scheduled the launch for a cloudless day.

She looked up at the yellow earth sun and sighed. The humans had been very excited to invite the GA delegations out to view the launch. Humans were generally very excited to show anyone they could their dangerous past, and looking at the thing that was passing for a spaceship, she could not see how it would get more than a few inches off the ground, much less out of orbit. Supposedly they had dipped into very rare rocket fuel reserves to even do this as it required fossil fuel.

Fossil Fuel!

Let that sink in for a moment.

Liquified dead plant and animal remains mixed with liquid oxygen and some sort of oxidizer. She wasn’t sure what that last part meant, she wasn’t a rocket scientist. She sighed again, personally she wished she didn’t have to be here, for she doubted the launch was going to go as the human expected. In all reality her nerves were shot and she wished that she could just pass out for the next few hours and forget where she was. Everything was out of her hands anyway. Her orders had been given and now all she could do was wait.

She stood in the heat not too distant from her array of human bodyguards,dressed in dark suits and wearing dark glasses to cover their eyes. Somehow they managed to look more intimidating than normal humans did frowning, missing the characteristic tooty smile she had grown to associate with humans.

Shehad spent far too much time with Admiral Vir it seemed.

She sighed at the thought of him and shook her head.

Every time she tried to think about something else, it just circled back around to him. She tried not to think about it, taking a very deep breath.

There was some shuffling behind her and she turned slowly on her knuckles feeling the concrete grinding below her hands as she did. Two Tesraki and one other Rundi stood behind her having been let through by the human guards, who still eyed them with some measure of suspicion.

“Everything is in place, Chancellor.”

She nodded her head once.

“How many?”

There are at least thirty patrolling the borders of the trajectory zone. They will know as soon as he breaches orbit.

“And our engineers?”

“We are having trouble gaining access, but we are still working on it.”

“You better hope that we can.”

She lifted her head towards the sky where she could see the faint line of the moon against the blueness of the sky.

“We better hope.”

***

Captain Richard’s palms were very sweaty. He tried to wipe them discreetly on his pants or more accurately a onesie the scientists were calling a “Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment. So like a Onesie with tubes in it. He glanced sidelong over to where Admiral Vir was sitting staring at the antique space suit equipment laid out before them.

He tried not to make it look like he was staring, but he totally was.

Admiral Vir wasn’t much older than him, maybe by a year or two, but that was part of what made being in the same room with him so strange. Every time he, or probably anyone, though of an admiral, they generally thought of some stuffy grey haired fat guy who sat behind a desk and gave orders. But…. this guy…. Well he was nothing like that at all. He was young and stupidly fit, and sure he had some white hair appearing at his temples, but his hair was blond enough you only noticed it in certain light.

And he was very personable, that was the first thing Richards had noticed.

The man knew how to work a room. He was funny, and despite being intimidated by his status, he found himself forgetting constantly that this guy wasn’t someone cool he had just met out at the bar.

As if he could sense someone looking at him, Admiral Vir turned around theappriture of his mechanical eye adjusting slightly. He grinned in a very un-admiral way, “This is so friggin awesome.” The man looked like he was about to jump out of his boots, “Just look at this stuff-” He grinned some more dancing from one foot to the other, “Happiest damn day of my life and I’m wearing a diaper.”

That got the rest of the shuttle crew laughing which then devolved into a discussion about the pros and cons of diapers versus the new suit catheters. There was a surprising split on the discussion as the group of men talked, a conversation that was only broken as a group of scientists stepped in to help them with their suits. The process was rather tedious, the suits were bulky and cumbersome, nothing like the neat, sleek and comfortable suits used on regular ships.

Stepping into the pants of the suit they had to hold their arms up as the upper portion was lowered into place over their heads while others hurried in to pull on their arms and then help them fit into the gloves. He ducked his head as the communications cap was placed over his head. They would be wearing the full suit into orbit, though they would be allowed to take it off on the journey over. A journey which would take roughly three days or more to complete. One of them would stay in orbit while Admiral Vir and Richards himself took the lunar module down to the surface.

It was all supposed to go very smoothly from here.

Once suited up he couldn’t help but be reminded of when he was a child ready to go sledding with his siblings, in his massive snow pants and puffy jacket, waddling across the floor with his arms held out to either side.

He honestly hoped he looked cooler than he felt.

Admiral Vir might have been able to pull it off if he wasn’t nearly skipping, which seemed pretty improbable in the massive ass snowman suit.

Glancing out the long windows and into the horizon, he could see crowds of people set up in the distance. Head was a teenager when the Enterprise Launched, standing in an awed crowd as the massive behemoth hauled herself into the sky. He remembered the thrill, and he remembered the fear as he watched it go higher and higher and higher.

He remembered that day as one that led him to where he was now, and couldn’t believe it.

***

The UN president stood at her lectern feeling a soft breeze blow through her hair. Today was a good day, or at least it was shaping up to be a good day. She had two folders sitting under the lectern like she always did during times like this. One of them was green and one of them was red.

The red one was sitting on top.

She glanced over to where the GA president stood and scowled slightly. She had always thought the little creature was kind of ugly looking like an ant. She had never liked bugs, or bug like things of any kind, which she found to be a common trait among aliens, Drev, Vrul, Gibb, Rundi, Burg.

She looked up at the sky neck stretched out sunning herself in the bright morning.

She could see the rocket in the distance held up on its platform. Admiral Vir would be moving into place now. Most people would see this only as some sort of historical recreation act, but PR analytics suggested that, if the Admiral succeeded, approval rating in the GA would go up almost 3 percent. Human and alien relations had been rockier than most people would like to admit. If Admiral Vir were to fail, the failure would likely shock the aliens senseless, and if he died. It could completely break down human/alien relations for the foreseeable future.

They were on the cusp of cooperation or war, and any single event could push them in that direction.

Relations might have already broken down if it wasn’t for Admiral Vir.

The president reached down a hand brushing the tips of her fingers over the red folder.

***

Jade examined the rocket from the inside of her decontaminated engineer’s suit. She was busy going over final checks before the craft was launched. Personally she thought it was a bad idea. There was no reason to go and do something so dumb when they had perfectly viable technologies available at their fingertips. Of course, she understood the value and importance of major historical events, but that didn’t mean they had to reenact them. I mean it's not like anyone ever wanted toreinaced the titanic or the Berlin wall, or burning down the library of Alexandria, but for some reason some yahoos wanted to strap themselves to a rocket inside a tin can and fly into space.

Using the same EXACT design from TWO THOUSAND years ago.

Might as well start using steam locomotives to get around.

She inched her way along the scaffolding catwalk just a few hundred feet in the air. She didn’t mind heights, butcher wasn’t stupid, and would enver risk herself unecissarily. She examined the bolts holding the ship together passing a critical eye over each and every one of them. If just a single one of them got loose, it might potentially pull the whole panel off. If that happened, the launch trajectory might destabilize and they could begin to spin into the ground and explode.

Off in the distance she heard an alarm calling her down from above.

She would need to leave soon, and so tucked her clipboard under one arm and began to climb down one of the ladders towards the distant ground.

It was then that she noticed something strange. She didn’t know why she noticed it, it was so small, and she was in a hurry but…. There was something…. Strange. She glanced over and squinted towards the strange reflection.

The siren continued to blare.

She should really go.

She started to descend but then.

“You might want to check that again.”

She nearly leaped out of her skin at the voice turning on the spot and pitching ackwards with wide open eyes nearly falling over the rail as she came face to face with a porcelain white face and wide black eyes like pools of onyx. For a second she almost screamed assuming she had gone insane, but then paused as she saw the figure floating before her a gravity belt around it’s waist, and hundreds of white ribbons streaming from it’s back.

A starborn!

She had seen a documentary mentioning them, even with a few images, so she knew who it was. She also knew that they could read minds.

It wasn’t supposed to be able to speak, but this one was wearing translation gloves, and spoke sign language rather fluently.

“You might want to check again.” It repeated

“But I-”

“The Admiral is expecting an attempt on his life, and the best way to do it would be to sabotage the shuttle. You will want to help me because if the Admiral dies, my daughter will be very upset.”

She opened her mouth then closed it, not sure how to respond but eventually turned back to the shuttle and leaned forward pointing to the side of the rocket, “That, right there, can you float over and take a look. The creature floated past her, billowing like smoke as he eased over. He pointed, “This?”

“Yes.”

He touched it.

“Can you feel it/” She wondered.

“It doesn't feel like the rest of the ship though I cannot say how.”

“Keep looking around, I need to call in-”

“NO!”

She frowned hand halfway to her mic.

“Don’t tell them, we don’t want them to know that we have found anything.

She wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t feel like pissing this thing off, so reached to her mic, “Mission control this is Engineering, i'll need a postpone on the launch while I finish off my checklist. This is taking longer than I anticipated.”

“Roger that.” mission control responded.

The sirens stopped a moment later as she urged the Starborn forward to prod at the spot. There wasa soft peeling noise, and after a moment, she watched as the creature came away with a strip of tape.

He floated over to her and she examined it. That shouldn’t have been there, this was not the heat resistant sort of tape they used, and it certainly wasn’t something they would have bothered to put on the outside of a ship. The only thing it seemed to do was match the paint color.

She leaned forward glancing at the side of the shi. If this had gone up during exit it would have burned off, and that would reveal.

The loose bolt underneath. Just like she feared.

She could fix it and ordered the starborn to do so following the instructions in her head. After that she ordered him to take her vest camera and fly around the outside of the rocket. She had noticed based on the way the light interacted with the tape as compared to the finish of the rocket’s exterior.

If only she had someone who was good at distinguishing subtle color, and then she remembered.

She called the starborn back.

“Go, get a Drev and hurry back here. I’ll try to stall them.”

217 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.7

a poem begins in the lump in the throat

Chapter Six

This is the seventh chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Aaron went to Spencer's apartment and found him in a depressive state. Lots of cuddles and comfort ensued.

In This Chapter: Aaron and Spencer go to a museum with Jack, but it is definitely not a date. And Spencer's depression definitely does not get in the way.

TW: same as usual — as well as additional ones for a trigger scene and depictions of caring.

Word Count: 4.8k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

A poem begins in the lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. — Robert Frost

The day after Aaron had turned up at his flat, he’d rung Penelope who had not-so-guiltily confessed to sending him his way. He wasn’t upset though, quite the contrary. A kind, cuddly, caring Aaron showing up in the middle of a minor depressive episode was exactly what he needed, and the evening they’d spent together had burned its way onto the tissue of Spencer’s heart. It was one of the happiest moments he’d experienced in a long time, despite the weighty, persistent, downward tug on his mood.

He’s been over every day the team has been home in the two weeks since, Penelope taking over when he’s away, and as exhausting as Spencer has found human company in the past year, neither Aaron’s nor Penelope’s presence drains him in the way everyone else’s has. They accept his low mood, not blinking an eye when he doesn’t have the energy to respond to something they say or when he zones out and stares blankly at the wall for minutes at a time. He can’t even find it in him to care that both of them have seen him naked now.

Their company starts to chip away at the glacier of loneliness that had spread itself across his chest, inching its freezing border ever closer to the corners of his ribcage as he pulled away and watched everyone else do the same. Aaron and Penelope simply aren’t having it, and their determination to show him love and friendship and warmth is slowly but surely melting his isolation to a puddle on the floor, soon to dry out and be forgotten.

Penelope had come with him to his first psychiatrist appointment, though she’d sat in the waiting room this time, and it had been incredibly relieving to be able to properly let go of some of the heavy burden that had weighed so heavily on his shoulders all this time. He’d kept him on the same antidepressants Dr Reese had prescribed him, and although he hadn’t felt a huge difference yet, Dr Parker was incredibly reassuring and he was trying not to assume defeat so early in the game.

He did feel slightly better, though, as he came out of the dip in his depression that had come on the day after his day out with Penelope. Once Aaron had noticed his mood brighten and his energy levels increase slightly — evidenced largely by Spencer not immediately falling asleep on the sofa when he comes back in from work — he’d suggested getting out of his apartment and doing something.

Spencer was apprehensive at first: the idea of willingly putting himself in a position of proximity with strangers and unpredictable circumstances made his skin crawl. But then Aaron had proposed a quiet trip with him and Jack to the Natural History Museum, maybe a walk in the park if the weather was nice. Spencer had found it hard to decline.

The last few weeks had only solidified Spencer’s feelings for Aaron further, intensified by both his persistence in being close to Spencer and his relentless kindness, and he had begun to feel something like real, genuine hope stirring on the surface of his soul.

He’d caught Aaron looking at him a few times when he thought he was asleep or zoned out, and the softness on his face felt reflective of Spencer’s own expression when he looks at Aaron. He couldn’t imagine him being so insistent on taking care of anyone else on the team, and since he’d left the BAU anyway, he had no obligation to be so dutifully kind.

Yet, he shows up before and after work every day the team is in Virginia, no matter how far out of the way Spencer’s apartment is, making sure he eats, showers, has clean clothes. Making sure he knows he’s loved. (Something whispers deep in his heart that maybe that love is the kind he’s dreamed of.)

On bad nights when he was still working at the BAU, he’d hug his knees to his chest and imagine Aaron curled up behind him telling him how much he loved him, telling him that it was going to be alright. He could never look the man in the eyes the next day at work, but that didn’t stop him. It worked better than anything else he tried and now it’s a reality he can’t pinch himself out of.

Truthfully, in the weeks between quitting the BAU and Penelope forcing Aaron and herself back into his life, he’d desperately missed his time in Aaron’s apartment, playing with Jack and pretending his life wasn’t splitting at the seams. The idea of spending a whole day with them — without the added baggage of trying to box up his increasingly untameable depression — was something he actually looked forward to. It’s a nice feeling; admittedly one he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Penelope comes over the morning of the outing.

(“I’m not about to let you flush this down the drain just because you end up having a tough morning,” she’d insisted when Spencer told her she doesn’t need to. “I’ll come over and force you out of bed and into a nice little outfit if I need to. You are going on that date with Hotch. Sorry: Aaron.”

“Shut up,” Spencer had said weakly. “It’s not a date.”

“Irrelevant,” she’d sniffed and levelled him with a glare he couldn’t argue with.)

He’s pretty sure that her insistent and relentless protectiveness and aid is part of her very focused mission to make up the last year to him. In fact, he’s almost certain, considering every time she sees him he’s bombarded with yet another apology and a small present for him. He’s not sure how to get through to her that he’s already forgiven her.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks as she walks into the living room to see Spencer curled up on the sofa with a blanket pulled over him. He had actually made it to bed last night, but the only way he could pull himself out of bed this morning was to promise himself a few minutes on the sofa, exciting day ahead of him or not.

He shakes his head. “Not hungry,” he sighs, picking at a loose thread of his blanket.

“That’s okay,” Penelope says lightly, dumping her handbag on the armchair before breezing into the kitchen and setting the orchid she’s brought with her on the windowsill. He hopes she knows she’ll be the only person around responsible enough to water it. “We’ll find you something small. How does a little bowl of cornflakes sound?”

“Fine.”

She puts the coffee machine on before bringing him a bowl of cornflakes that is decidedly not little. He hates that her tactic works and he eats the whole thing. “Why do you always have to be right?” he grumbles as he polishes off the bowl and puts it on the coffee table.

“I don’t know, baby genius,” she sighs exaggeratedly, sagging into her armchair. Spencer doesn’t know what he’d do without Penelope Garcia and her incessant dramatics. “It’s truly an affliction.”

“Mhm.” Spencer raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, but Penelope’s saved by the coffee machine beeping and she stalks into the kitchen to pour him a cup. He has no idea how early she wakes up to make it over to his house dressed to the nines with a full face of make-up on at eight am. He smiles fondly at her as he takes the proffered mug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says brightly, sitting back in her chair and sipping at her own cup. “So, how are we feeling about our date today?”

As much as Spencer does not appreciate her suggestive eyebrow waggling, he can’t help but smile at her antics. He also can’t help but blush. “It isn’t a date, Penelope, I’ve told you this.”

“Right, right,” she says drily. “I think I’d have an easier time believing you if you weren’t constantly sending one another heart eyes and weren’t clearly half in-love with one another already.”

Spencer decides it’s probably best to avoid mentioning that his feelings have definitely progressed past the ‘half in-love’ phase, and just looks down. “Jack will be there,” he points out instead, “and the Natural History Museum isn’t exactly a steamy date location, is it?”

“No, that’s exactly the point. It’s a Dr Spencer Reid date location.”

Spencer looks at her a little speechless for a moment. Unfortunately, she’s right. He’s privately thought about getting married in one of DC’s many museums, and science and history are two of the subjects even a casual acquaintance would know he’s fascinated by. Plus, it’s also something he’s bonded over with Jack.

All of that may be the case, but it doesn’t change the fact that he absolutely cannot let himself consider this a date.

He’s already let himself fantasise enough about Aaron returning his feelings; not letting himself think of this as anything other than platonic is the only thing he can hang onto to protect his fragile heart. Getting his hopes up only to find out he’s wrong would crush him, and he can’t risk a devastation of such proportions right now. He’s barely getting out of bed in the morning as it is.

Penelope seems to catch on to his spiralling thought process and leans over to lay a hand on his knee. “Hey, I know it’s intimidating,” she says gently, “and you don’t have to think about it as a date if you don’t want to, especially if you’re apprehensive because he hasn’t said anything explicitly. I just don’t want you to doubt yourself. I promise you he has feelings for you, too, okay? You need to trust me on this one. That man is absolutely gone for you.”

Despite himself, he finds himself smiling at her as her words warm him from the inside out. Even if he knows he has to be careful with his heart, he can’t help the optimism his head conjures up at such a promise from someone he trusts with his life. “Okay,” he whispers shyly.

“Right,” she says, putting her half-empty coffee mug down on the table and gripping Spencer’s free hand to pull him up from his pathetic sprawl across the sofa. “Come on, you. Aaron won’t be long, let’s get you looking at least half-human.”

He only agrees because she lets him bring his own coffee mug with him to the bathroom. She’s a good friend.

Penelope slips out a few minutes before Aaron is set to arrive per Spencer’s request, and he sits nervously on the sofa, waiting for the doorbell to buzz. He’d chosen his favourite shirt and tie combo and gone with a lilac sweater under his smartest navy coat. He holds his scarf in his fidgeting fingers, ready to put it on once they get outside, but he still feels naked. Suddenly, everything that’s riding on this day out fills him with a sort of dread and he feels vulnerable, scared of all the endless ways this could go so wrong.

Before he can spiral properly though, his intercom buzzes and he rushes over to answer it, even though he knows who it is. He’s glad he does, because Jack’s voice crackles its way into the quiet of his apartment. “Spencer, Spencer, come out, we’re here,” he shouts excitedly, and even though Spencer winces at the feedback his high-pitched voice elicits, a fond smile still finds its way onto his face.

“I’m on my way down, buddy,” he says back, with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, before patting his pockets to make sure he has his keys, phone, and wallet. He locks his door carefully and makes his way down to the front of his building. Apprehension balls in a pit in his stomach, but it loosens as soon as he approaches the pair waiting in the cold outside the front door.

Jack runs up to him and he crouches down to give him a big hug, wishing he had the strength and confidence to pick him up and twirl him around like he’s seen Aaron and Derek do so many times. Jack doesn’t seem bothered, though, an excited grin painted across his face as he pulls back from the hug.

“Hey,” Aaron says once Jack has let Spencer go and he stands back up straight. He presses a hand gently to the middle of Spencer’s back and the touch spreads warmth up to his shoulders as he watches the curve of Aaron’s smile. “How are you doing?”

“Rocky morning,” Spencer admits — he’s almost certain Penelope sends Aaron status reports, so lying is pointless. “Penelope helped.”

“She always does,” Aaron says warmly, keeping one hand on Spencer’s back while the other holds Jacks as they walk to the car parked a little way down the street. A little spark of excitement rushes through Spencer’s body as he briefly lets himself think about what casual passers-by might assume about the three of them. “You still up for the Natural History Museum?”

“Of course,” Spencer replies, as brightly as he can, trying to ignore the pull of sorrow still weighing his gut down. “Are you looking forward to seeing the dinosaurs, Jack?”

“Yes!” Jack shouts eagerly, letting go of Aaron’s hand to unzip his little puffer coat to reveal his long-sleeve t-shirt. A big, green t-rex stands out against the blue background, and Jack’s never looked prouder. “Dinosaur, see?”

“I do,” Spencer laughs. “It’s a great shirt, Jack.”

“Hey, let’s zip that coat back up, buddy, well done,” Aaron says gently and Jack does so obediently. “He insisted on wearing it,” he tells Spencer once Jack’s hand is back in his and he’s securely wrapped up. “He wanted to show you.”

They arrive at the car before Spencer can reply, and Aaron opens the passenger door for him to get in before strapping Jack into his car seat and setting him up with a few of his toys, including his favourite dinosaurs. It’s only a fifteen minute journey to the museum, and they pass the first half of it in a comfortable silence, but eventually, Spencer works up the courage to ask the question that’s been at the tip of his tongue the past two weeks.

“How’s work?” he asks, trying to be as innocuous as possible, though his awkward avoidance of Aaron’s eyes probably gives him away.

“It’s good.” He’s clearly treading carefully as he eyes Spencer for a brief moment before he returns his gaze to the road. “We’ve only had one major case since you left, and we muddled our way through it, got it solved. Everyone does miss you, though, Spencer. They really do.”

It’s a concept he still can’t really get his head around. He hasn’t been around for a year, not really, and they didn’t miss him then. It feels almost… convenient, to Spencer. Guilt is not remorse.

“Have you found my replacement yet?” Spencer surprises himself by not feeling any jealousy at the prospect of someone taking his position on the team. He’d long ago accepted how replaceable he is socially, and it’s not like the pool of talented, intelligent prospective agents is exactly small. He also has no desire to be around his old team; not as they were in the build-up to his resignation, not like that. He still has Aaron and Penelope, but he’s only just starting to trust that they’re not going anywhere.

“I think so,” Aaron sighs heavily. “As long as her paperwork goes through, she’ll join the team later this week.”

Spencer nods, not really knowing what to say to that. Aaron reaches his right hand across the console and rests it on top of Spencer’s clasped hands, the warm reassuring weight of not just anyone’s touch but Aaron Hotchner’s turning his insides into a melted puddle as his heart beats faster. He hooks one of his fingers over Aaron’s, a silent message to keep his hand there, and he doesn’t worry about what to say next. Nothing needs to be said.

Spencer knows the Natural History Museum like the back of his hand, so he directs them to the best parking spot before taking the lead and walking them into the gorgeous, open foyer. Jack bounces excitedly between them, so Aaron lifts him onto his shoulders to reduce the likelihood of a disaster.

“It’s not too busy for a Sunday,” Spencer observes, half trying to calm himself down in such an unfamiliar environment, “so we should be able to see everything we want to. Jack, do you want to see the dinosaurs now or later?”

“Now!” he shouts loudly, wiggling as happiness floods his little body. Spencer smiles fondly at the pair, and a little more of the apprehension he’d felt at leaving the house melts away.

“Well how could I refuse that request?” he chuckles, leading them towards the dinosaur exhibit. His breath catches when he feels the back of Aaron’s hand brush the back of his, and in a moment of bold and brash insanity, he interlocks his pinky with Aaron’s. After the moment in the car, he feels such an action is warranted, but as soon as he does it, panic sets in.

Before he can retract his finger though, Aaron takes Spencer’s hand properly. The feeling of Aaron’s big hand gripping his own in a gentle but firm hold makes his stomach dip, and goosebumps find their way up his arms and down his side. He’s never felt safer than right in this moment — never mind the crowds of people they’re passing through; the insecurity of being outside his flat; the uncertainty of what could happen — never mind all of that, because his hand is in Aaron’s and Aaron keeps him safe. He doesn’t trust much anymore, but he will always trust Aaron.

Jack babbles eagerly the whole way to the dinosaur exhibit, repeating some of the facts Spencer had taught him in his previous visits to the Hotchner household in a “did you know?” format, leaving both Aaron and Spencer chuckling fondly, trying to encourage him as much as possible.

Spencer shows them around the exhibit, acting as their tiny group’s personal tour guide, and Jack couldn’t be happier, insisting on walking instead of being carried so he can press his face up as close as possible to the displays, his breath fogging up the glass as he leaves fingerprints all over the cases. They spend nearly an hour walking around the exhibit, playing with the interactive toys and examining each and every display in a close-up fashion.

Once they wrap up their dinosaur exploring, Spencer brings Jack to a bench and asks him what his favourite thing he learned is.

“Uhh,” Jack hums, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that reminds him so much of Aaron it’s almost uncanny, “oh! They were terrible and they were stupid!”

Spencer’s confused for a moment before laughing as he manages to decode what Jack is trying to say. “Dinosaur does translate to ‘terrible lizard’, well done,” he agrees, “and you’re right, they weren’t much smarter than reptiles these days. Good job, Jack!” He raises his hand for a high-five, and Jack doesn’t waste any time in slapping his palm to Spencer’s.

“Can we get ice cream?” he asks eagerly, widening his eyes in a plea as he looks at Aaron who's been observing the unravelling scene from the pillar next to the bench.

“Go on then,” Aaron concedes, grinning at his son’s uncontainable happiness as he wiggles around next to Spencer.

They head to the museum’s cafe and all order ice cream, taking a seat in the middle of the canteen.

“This reminds me of field trips back in school,” Spencer muses, gesturing to the surrounding noise with his spoon.

“Yeah?” Aaron asks while Jack picks distractedly at a scratch on the table, licking his ice cream cone happily.

“Before I was identified as a gifted student and sent years up the grade school ladder, I was a fairly normal kid in a fairly normal school. We went on a field trip to a museum in first grade, and I loved every minute of it. I got to impress all my friends by sharing all my memorised facts about space, and we ate our packed lunches in a canteen like this. My mum was still on her meds back then, and she’d cut all my ham sandwiches into dinosaur shapes.”

Aaron’s smiling at him as he talks, and he realises that it’s probably because it’s the most he’s had to say in weeks, much less something anecdotal and personal. Spencer realises belatedly that it’s the sort of thing one might share on a date, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

“I’m glad you have nice memories from your early childhood, Spencer,” he says, and his hand reaches across the table to find Spencer’s again. “It’s the least you deserve.”

He averts his eyes as he blushes, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed by the attention, and focuses on his ice cream for a few minutes before he’s cooled down a bit. “What about you?” he asks, meeting Aaron’s eyes again. “Any field trip memories?”

“I made out with my ninth grade girlfriend at the planetarium once,” he admits quietly, a mirthful chuckle finding its way into his voice.

“Maybe minutely better than dinosaur shaped sandwiches,” Spencer says, a little shyly.

“Ooh, dinosaur sandwiches!” Jack chimes in, suddenly aware of the conversation the adults are having. “Can I have some?”

Spencer’s phone vibrates just as Aaron goes to appease Jack’s enthusiasm for novelty shaped lunch food, and he pulls it out curiously. These days, the only people to text him are Aaron and Penelope, and Penelope had told him she was going out with a friend today.

Hey, pretty boy — Spencer’s heart sinks as he reads the first line of the message, tears immediately springing to his eyes — I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. Hotch said something about personal stuff going on? Anyway, I thought I’d text you to tell you just how much we miss you at the BAU. Life isn’t the same without you, and it was hard to not even get a chance to say goodbye. Any chance we could meet up at some point? We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to, we can just go grab a coffee or something. D

Aaron must read something off in his face — it’s not exactly like he’s trying to hide it — and he immediately slides closer to him on the circular canteen bench. “Hey, hey, Spencer,” he says soothingly, “you’re alright. What’s going on?” He just slides the phone over to show Aaron the message, and he immediately gets it. “I know that must be overwhelming, and we’re in public which can’t be helping.” He glances over at Jack who’s looking worryingly at Spencer, clearly confused. “Why don’t we go back to our place? Jack and I will help you feel better, won’t we, buddy?”

Jack nods at that, pressing himself into Spencer’s side and wrapping his tiny arms around him. “Yeah, we make you feel better.” He reaches up and clumsily brushes a tear away from Spencer’s cheek before kissing it. It makes his heart warm that this is how Jack treats someone sad: he must be emulating the behaviour adults have shown him in these situations, and Jack only ever deserves the absolute best. Especially after losing his mom.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing himself closer to Aaron. Every time he’s upset he seems to lose his inhibitions around him, but he can’t help it. He needs the comfort only Aaron can provide, and after denying his starving heart the love and reassurance it's been begging for for so long, he can’t help but indulge himself now it’s finally an option.

They make their way back to the car and Spencer’s in such a haze of confusing emotion the only thing he can really ground himself in is Aaron’s arm wrapped around his waist and Jack gripping his hand on his other side, sending him worried looks. If he had the wherewithal to feel anything other than a deep sense of grief combined with rising panic he’d feel guilty for ruining such a nice day out, but as it stands he’s spared that particular brand of misery.

The drive back to Aaron’s is a little longer than the first journey of the day, but Spencer just clings to the hand Aaron offered him as soon as they got back in the car and tries desperately not to spin completely out of control and start hyperventilating in front of the five year old strapped into his car seat behind him.

Jack is asked to play in his room for a bit once they get home and he obeys, aware of — if not entirely comprehending — the tension in the air. As Spencer sits on the sofa waiting for Aaron to get back with a glass of water, the grief and panic clear a little. He hates himself for the relentless gravity of his depression: the way it pulls down even the brightest of days, the way he can physically feel his insides being sucked downwards into the blackhole of desolation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aaron asks gently as he sits next to Spencer on the couch, close enough that their arms are touching. Self-loathing is the only thing preventing him from leaning into his comfort like he did at the museum, like he did in the car. Instead he pulls away and curls himself as small as possible into the corner of the sofa. When Spencer doesn’t reply, Aaron takes a risk. “Do you think you might be so upset because somewhere, deep down, you want to see Derek too?”

He snaps his head up at that, surprised Aaron would say something so blunt and, as much as Spencer doesn’t want to admit it, truthful. After a good few moments of contemplative and patient silence, his thoughts are ordered enough to voice them. “I miss them all,” he admits quietly. “I desperately want to see Derek. But the Derek I left hurt me so much I wouldn’t know where to even start in trying to reconnect with him.”

Aaron nods in understanding from his spot in the middle of the sofa. Spencer longs for this pit of self-loathing to melt away so he can feel confident enough to crawl back across the cushions and share Aaron’s personal space again.

“That makes a lot of sense, Spencer,” he says, resting a gentle hand on his ankle, and it’s such a casual, intimate touch he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He settles on not moving even an inch, lest Aaron pull his hand away. “For what it’s worth, the others have started to piece together why you left. I know they’re all regretting how everything played out, and everyone on the team misses you sorely.”

Spencer ponders that for a moment. He doesn’t know how it makes him feel: it’s nice to be missed, and a sick sort of vindication flourishes in the less savoury side of him at the idea of the others realising the crippling, world-changing pain he’s been in for the last year, right under their noses.

He misses so much about the others, but that’s not new: he’s missed JJ’s hugs and Derek’s teasing and Emily’s friendship for close to a year now. Sitting at his desk in the bullpen next to Derek and Emily’s private bantering, sharing an inside joke he didn’t understand towards the end of his career at the BAU had cut deep, reminding him just how achingly alone he was.

“I don’t know where to start,” he says hopelessly, feeling like he’s repeating himself. Tears spring to his eyes again, spilling down his cheeks relentlessly, as though the second he’d let one fall, they toppled down his face like river water desperate to escape, unsure of when the dam will close again.

Aaron scoots himself over to Spencer’s end of the sofa like he can’t help himself, and this time he lets himself fold into Aaron’s warm embrace. He cries as quietly as possible, but it’s hard when he doesn’t have the energy to do anything other than sob helplessly. He can hear himself; he knows he sounds like a broken, defeated man, but he simply doesn’t have the power to care.

As his sobs start to dry out, he sees that Aaron is crying, too. He’d noticed his wet eyes the last few times he’d cried in his presence as well, and he has no idea how to feel about it. If Aaron is seriously going to cry every time he does, though, then he’d better strap in.

“Why don’t you have a nap?” he suggests, wiping a tear from the sensitive skin under Spencer’s eye so tenderly it makes his heart clench. “Then afterwards, we can think of a way to go about this. Maybe we could start with a short text back. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, and lets Aaron help him get into a comfortable position on the sofa. A warm, soft throw is draped over him and Aaron half closes the living room blind, but the day is dark and grey enough already anyway. As he’s falling off to sleep, a hot water bottle is tucked under the blanket and he instinctively curls up against the warmth, but he knows that the real comforting soporific is the man reading quietly in the armchair next to him.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer looks forward to waking up.

Chapter Eight

Rereading Penelope in this chapter when I came to edit it made me want to take a second to recognise all of the unofficial carers out there <3 I've been a carer for both my mum and my grandmother at various times in my childhood and teens, and it's tough going. If you're looking after a friend or a family member, please remember how amazing and wonderful you are, and also remember that it's okay if it's too much, and it's okay if you need to cry or scream or break down. You are still just as brilliant no matter your emotional reaction to what is an exceptionally difficult situation to find yourself in. I love you, and I'm always here to talk to you about this (or anything that comes up in this fic!) <3

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world. I love you <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 @kuolonsyoja

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