#this post brought to you by me taking a handful of pills to manage my symptoms

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Maybe, Baby?

Summary: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap, silly gooses), creampie, praise kink, size kink (if u squint), unintentional breeding kink (lmaoooo, it's me, sorry not sorry), birth control/family planning, pregnancy (or maybe not? part 2 maybe? hehe) symptoms, Frankie and reader mention being closer to 30 than 16 (turns out when you're an adult, it's not a teen pregnancy anymore), reader has hair that can be played with, Frankie being the sweetest husband alive (all the gold stars for him), Frankie is so excited to be a dad that I just may pass away

A/N: I know y'all voted for me to finish chapter 20 but i lied (I'm so sorry), but I wrote this in a day and husband Frankie was really speaking to me on this one 😭 This one is brought to you by my raging baby fever and perhaps some real life inspiration WHOOPS, art imitating life on this one ig 💀 Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll!!!

Ever since getting off birth control a few months ago, your body had felt… different. 

While you were glad you had made the change for yourself, you still found yourself shocked every month when a new sort of symptom decided to appear at some point in your cycle that you had never dealt with before- acne in new places, weird cramps, and crazy mood swings that showed up out of nowhere before your period were just a few of the things you were learning to manage as you figured out your body post birth control. 

Another symptom you hadn’t expected was that now, you were insatiably horny. 

All the time. 

While Frankie had been more supportive and caring in helping you deal with all of your not so pleasant symptoms than you could have hoped for, he was also more than happy to help you with your newly found positive one, too. 

The only problem was, after so many years of not having to worry about the consequences of your sex life on birth control, you and Frankie were finding it very hard to adjust to be more… careful. 

As you got hornier and hornier, the box of condoms that Frankie had bought after you stopped taking the pill had been seeing less and less use, and to be honest, hadn’t really seen the light of day from the back of his nightstand drawer in about a month an a half- and if you were being even more honest, on top of that, Frankie’s pull out game was almost nowhere to be found. 

You both knew that you wanted a family in the future- That was a part of your reason for getting off birth control to begin with. The two of you had agreed to hold off at least for a little longer to try and get your life more in order before bringing a baby into it, but with with your new lack of protection when it came to sex, and constant horniness around the clock, you both were beginning to have a feeling that that your agreed upon timeline for having a baby might be harder for you to maintain that you thought. 

Especially when you found yourself morphing into an unspeakably horny monster when you were ovulating. 

So little did you realize, that as you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the two of you were getting ready for bed and you caught a glimpse in the mirror of Frankie, stripping out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers as he searched around in your dresser for pajamas, that was the reason you nearly spit out your entire mouthful of toothpaste to try and get a mouthful of something else. 

You couldn’t help but ogle at your husband's broad body and freckled tan skin, muscles flexing as he shuffled through your drawers, pulling out an old, worn gray t-shirt and tugging it over his head, running his hand through his messy, curly hair before searching for his pajama bottoms.

At this point, you had honestly braced yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter to keep yourself from falling over at how mouth-watering he looked, already feeling the wetness beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear at the thought of wanting to rip his clothes off just as fast as he had put them on. 

Letting out a yawn, Frankie raised his hands above his head so a sliver of his soft belly peaked out between his waistband and shirt hem before making his way into the bathroom, sleepily padding along the tile floor until his body was behind yours, chest flushed against your back and arms wrapped around your waist. Even more prevalent, his bulge pressed against your ass, making the wet spot in your underwear grow damper by the second. 

“You ready for bed, querida?” Frankie cooed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder and smiling at your reflections in the mirror. 

While you were absolutely ready to get into bed, sleeping was not going to be your activity of choice.  

“I think that maybe…” You paused, turning around to face Frankie, his body caging yours against the counter, palms splayed flat on either side of your hips, looking down at you with his sweet, brown eyes, “I think that maybe we should do something else before we go to sleep.” 

“Something else, huh?” Frankie smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as your hands began to run up and down his arms, slightly squeezing the muscles of his biceps as your fingers crept under the fabric of his shirt sleeves. “And what might that something else be, Hermosa?” 

“You know exactly what it is, Fransisco. You expect me to watch you just roam around shirtless in our bedroom and not get all hot and bothered? God, you’re so fucking hot.” You moaned, letting your hands run up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him in for a long, electric kiss. 

“Damn, what’s gotten into you, babe?” Frankie chuckled, trying his best not to blush at your comment, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“I don’t- Fuck, I don’t know, I just know that if you don’t fuck me right this second, I think I’m gonna explode.” 

While your statement may have had a flair for the dramatic, it was just about as close to the God’s honest truth as you could get- You were so worked up, you felt practically feral, the ache in your core so strong that you really did feel like you were on the verge of implosion. 

Before you even gave Frankie time to respond, your lips were crashing into his with a ferocious intensity, your hands grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt as you stumbled back towards your bedroom, bodies bumping and bouncing against the walls and door frames, mouths never parting as the back of Frankie’s knees finally hit the mattress, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed. 

Crawling overtop of him, you were already straddled over his hips, grinding your bottom half on the bulge growing in his pajamas as your hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, running along the tanned, soft skin of his chest, making him let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat. 

Frantically shuffling himself further onto the bed, Frankie’s hands dug into your hips and over your ass as your hands slid down from his chest to his waistband, fingers tugging at the elastic to shuffle his bottoms and boxers down his legs, quickly followed by your own, dropping to a crumpled pile on the floor. 

Feeling your fingers wrap around his cock, already painfully hard, you swirled the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb before dragging your hand up and down his length, leaving Frankie sitting up in surprise while he watched you begin to hover over him, dragging his dick through your folds. 

“Hermosa, are you sure you don’t need me to-” But before Frankie could finish the rest of his protest to make sure you were ready to take him, you were already sinking down onto him, whimpering at the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness, followed by the ragged moan escaping Frankie’s lips. 

“Oh fuck… Nuh uh, Frankie. I need to feel you, baby. Needed to feel you inside me.” You whined, taking Frankie cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure. 

Normally with Frankie’s size, you would have needed to warm you up first, but with how wet and worked up you already were, you were able to take him with ease, desperate to feel him buried deep inside you. 

“Jesus fucking christ, queirda, you’re so fucking wet. Fuck, baby.” Frankie moaned, feeling you begin to slide up and down his length, coating him with your arousal with each swirl of your hips. 

Arching your back, you jutted your hips forward, bracing your hands on Frankie’s strong thighs, circling your bottom half against his, whimpering at his fullness and the hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your clit, selfishly already longing to chase your own high to ease the ache that had been burning in your core. 

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. Feel so fucking full with you in me.” You whimpered, bouncing even harder and faster on Frankie’s cock, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping his and wetness dripping from your heat coating the walls of your bedroom. 

“Yeah? This what you wanted, pretty girl? Wanted me to stretch this pretty little pussy out and fill you up?” Frankie groaned, gritting his teeth as he began to jut his hips up into yours as you rode him, the added depth of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure. 

And for as fucking good as it felt, the horny monster you had morphed into had you greedily craving more- to have Frankie stretch you open in a way that had you seeing stars, so much that you could still feel the next day, long after the two of you were finished. 

“I-I want more, p-please, baby. Fuck- Fuck me harder, Fransisco.” You cried, your sweet voice whimpering his full name turning him almost as feral as you were, letting out a low growl as he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you so that your back hit the mattress and he was caging his broad body over yours. 

Practically ripping the t-shirt still covering your upper half off your body, Frankie dove face first between your breasts, groping one while hungrily sucking at the other, flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue, his free hand reaching down to line his cock back up with your entrance, sliding back in to your aching core with ease. 

Frankie let himself sink all the way back in, filling you to the brim before hooking his arms around your knees, pressing your legs against your stomach, smirking to himself at the ragged moan you let out as the new angle opened you up even further. 

“You want me to fuck you harder, Hermosa?” Frankie mewled, slowly dragging his length out of your heat, looking down to see your shiny slick soaking his cock before looking back at you and the wrecked expression plastered across your face, frantically nodding in desperation. “Tell me how badly you want it, sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, I need you so bad, Fransisco, please.” You begged, damn near close to tears with how deeply you needed to feel Frankie ease the emptiness inside you. “Please, baby, I- oh fuck-”  

Before you could even finish the rest of your plea, your breath was already hitched in the back of your throat as Frankie began to pound into you at a relentless pace, tightening his grip around your thighs while he pressed them closer to your chest, grunting with each rut of his hips into yours. 

“This what you want, querida? Meirda- so fucking wet and tight, baby girl. You feel so fucking good, holy fuck.” 

It didn’t take long for the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine to start spreading through your body like a wildfire as Frankie continued to slam into your g-spot, making you chant his name like a prayer, your brain at a loss for any other words than “Fuck, Fransisco.” 

And as if you already weren’t close enough, when Frankie reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing in relentless circles against your sensitive nub, you knew you were a fucking goner. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. Cum for me, baby. Want that- oh fuck- want that prefect pussy to fucking soak me.” Frankie groaned, feverishly pounding into you, desperate to feel you come undone for him giving him long enough to fight off his own high that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach. 

A few more thrusts were all it took to have the coil snapping in your belly, crying out Frankie’s name as you came, orgasm ripping through your body with a blinding intensity, eyes scrunching shut and jaw hanging open while pleasure and euphoria flowed through every ounce of you. 

Still blissed out and wrecked out of your mind, your eyes shot open as Frankie’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers and moans in a messy dance of tongues and teeth. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Jesus fuck-  fuck, I’m close too, baby. W-where do you want me, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, barley holding on long enough for you to answer, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his hips began to stutter, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow with every ounce of self control he had left. 

Still barley coherent enough to form a sentence, your brain blurted out the only thing you could think of, and the only thing that you really wanted in the moment. 

“Inside, Fransisco. Fuck, cum inside me, baby.” 

That alone was almost enough to send Frankie over the edge, letting out a long, low groan, sloppily rutting into you as his brain went blank alongside yours, starting to babble incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- you want me to fill you up, queirda? Fuck, I’ll fucking fill you up so good you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Oh fuck, shit baby, fuck, oh I’m gonnaahhhhhh-“ 

Just like that, Frankie took one last thrust, spilling deep inside you, coating your walls with his spend as his body slumped into yours, the pair of your chests rising and falling in sync as you both came back down to earth. 

“Jesus Christ… Holy fuck, Frankie.” You giggled quietly to yourself, blissfully filled with post orgasm ecstasy as your husband carefully pulled himself out before rolling over next to you on the bed, pulling you close against his chest. 

“Fuck me, Hermosa, holy shit.” Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, tracing small circles on your back as he held you, heat radiating off of each other's sweat-ridden bodies. “God, I love you. We should probably get you cleaned up. You wanna shower?” He asked, smirking as your face lit up at his nearly rhetorical question. 

“Only if you’re up for round 2, Morales.”   

“My eyes are up here, Fransisco.” 

“Hmmm? What did you say?” 

“Exactly my point. Can you stop looking with your man eyes and look with your normal, helpful people eyes to help me decide on a dress for Benny and Victoria’s wedding?” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you raised an eyebrow at Frankie, his gaze still fixed on your chest. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be helpful.” Frankie huffed, overdramatically rolling his eyes at you, playfully throwing his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the dressing room door, looking you up and down in one of the cute floral dresses you had picked to try on for your friends’ upcoming wedding. “It’s just that… Nevermind.” 

“It’s just that what, Frank?” You asked tilting your head in confusion at your husband as his eyes traveled back to your breasts, furled look in his brow like he was really staring there to prove a point. 

“It’s just that- Baby, I don’t know if it’s just the dress or what, but your boobs look huge. Like, they always look good, believe me, but like… Whew.” Frankie whistled, practically shaking his head in disbelief at how good you looked. 

“Really?” You asked, turning around to face the mirror in the dressing room, gently cupping your breasts, grimacing as you held them in your hands. “Yeah, I guess they do… Honestly, I was gonna complain about how sore they’ve been all day. I wonder if maybe my period is just coming early?” 

“Maybe? You did ride me pretty hard the last couple nights and put on a good show, so maybe they hurt from all that bouncing and-” 

“Frankie! We are in public!” You playfully scolded, giving him a flimsy slap to the chest to cut off the rest of his thought, the two of you quietly giggling to yourselves and trying to “Shhhh” each other from drawing too much attention to your dressing room stall. “The dress, you goofball, yes or no? Sooner we pick, the sooner we can go get food, because your wife is starving.” 

“I vote yes on the dress. You look beautiful in it, querida.” Frankie smiled, stepping behind you to press a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You just like it because it makes my boobs look huge.” 

“What? Can you blame me for wanting to stare at my gorgeous wife’s boobs all night?” 

“God, you are ridiculous, Fransisco. Fine, boob dress wins. Now let’s get out of here and go get some food before you get stuck in a titty trance and I die of hunger.” 

While the rest of your Saturday was spent enjoying the delicious Mexican food that you had picked up on the way home and a much needed night in on the couch with Frankie, there was a tiny part of your brain that couldn’t seem to shake his comment from earlier about how big your boobs looked. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him, because truth be told, they felt huge, too. They had been sore since you had woken up this morning, and while you had chalked it up to what you and Frankie had been up to the past few nights, or bad PMS symptoms, there was still just something about you that felt off. 

Later that night, during your movie marathon, you had paused whatever new action movie Frankie had been begging to watch since it had popped up on Netflix a few days ago for a popcorn refill. 

While Frankie meandered around the kitchen waiting for the next bag of popcorn to finish popping, you stayed curled up with your blanket in your corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, until a sharp twinge began to cramp in your lower stomach. The feeling took you by surprise, digging your fingers into your side to try and ease the dull and achy sensation as your face scrunched in confusion, wondering why in the world you had what felt like period cramps in your belly. 

“Hey, you okay, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, returning with popcorn in hand, his face painted with concern to see the pained look scrunched between your brow as you curled deeper into the couch. 

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just um, I just had a weird cramp I guess. Probably just ate all that popcorn too fast.” You replied, trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince Frankie that you were overthinking whatever mystery symptoms had just flashed through your lower half. 

“Here, lemme just set this popcorn down and then I can rub your back while we finish the movie, okay?” Frankie smiled softly, setting down the bowl on the coffee table before crawling back under the sea of blankets on the couch with you, laying your head against his thigh like a pillow while his hand traced up and down along the small of your back. 

“Thanks, Frankie.” You whispered quietly, taking a few deep breaths as the familiar warmth of your husband’s palm worked up and down the worn fabric of his shirt that you had put on earlier. 

“Of course, baby. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay? Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the popcorn if you have any more there, Killer.” 

The two of you laughed quietly as Frankie leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair laid across his lap before picking up the remote to let the rest of the movie play as your eyelids began to get heavier and heavier as you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

“What’s inside this box?” 

“Open it up and find out! It’s a surprise for you!” 

“Okay? Huh, why is it just a pregnancy test in there?” 

“It’s yours! Congratulations! You’re having a baby!” 

“Ahhhhh!” You shrieked, panting as you woke from a cold sweat, shooting up from the couch. “What the fuck…” You whispered to yourself, coming to and realizing that you were now awake and had only been dreaming moments before this. Running your hands over your face, you blinked a few times to be greeted by the dim light of the TV still flickering in the background, Frankie sprawled out and snoring by your side where the two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. 

“What a weird fucking dream…” You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you quietly pushed yourself off the couch to stumble to the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to check what ungodly hour of the night it had to be since the two of you had crashed on the couch. 

2:07 A.M. 

You let out a low grumble, pushing your sweatpants down to your ankles as you sat down to pee, blinking your eyes open wider to look through the notifications piled on top of each other on your lockscreen. Mindlessly swiping through a few junk emails and text messages from group chats, one notification in particular caught your eye, rousing you from your half awake state. 

“Feeling down? As you begin your Luteal Phase of your cycle, it’s normal to be less cheerful compared to last week when you were Ovulating! Click to track your cycle symptoms for today!” 

Oh shit.  

You could feel your heart beginning to race as you opened up the app, scrolling to the calendar tracker for the month. Swiping through the days, it didn’t take you long to realize that despite all of your weird symptoms you had been chalking up to PMS, you were almost two weeks away from starting your period. Frantically scrolling backwards, you began to try and rack your brain of all of the times in the past week that you had sex with Frankie while you would have been ovulating, and out of that number, how many times he hadn’t finished inside you, let alone even attempt to pull out. 

And that number was a big, fat zero. 

That’s when it hit you like a fucking freight train- You weren’t PMS-ing.

More than likely, you were pregnant. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling and heart pounding as you buried your face in your trembling hands, your mind flooding with a million different thoughts all at once. 

How could you not remember that you were ovulating? Would Frankie be upset? The two of you weren’t even trying for kids right now. Would you be a good Mom? What were you even going to need to do to prepare? Your house was starting to get small for just you and Frankie, let alone a baby. How were you going to find a new place to live in 9 months? And get a new car? How were you- 

“Baby, you good in there?” Frankie groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, bright light flooding into the hallway and revealing the sobbing mess you had become, still pants down, hunched over the toilet. 

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Baby, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me, Hermosa. Are you okay? What happened?” You could feel Frankie’s demeanor immediately switch as soon as he saw you in the bathroom, instantly dropping to his knees by your side, his hands gently grabbing your face to shift your gaze towards him, carefully swiping his thumb to dry the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. 

“Frankie, I- I- Fuck.” You stuttered, gulping hard as you tried to catch your breath, fighting back your nervous sobs as you locked eyes with Frankie, wondering how in the world you were ever about to brace him for the news you were about to tell him. 

“Hermosa, what is it? Please, tell me baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie pleaded, softly squeezing your face in reassurance as he waited for your response. 

You took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself enough to at least try to get a coherent thought out, swallowing hard as the words left your mouth. 

“Frankie, I-, Frankie, I think- I think I’m pregnant.” 

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to process what you had just told him, wondering if he hadn’t heard you right in his groggy state. 

“W-what?” 

“I think I might be pregnant, Frankie.” 

Before you could even bear the thought of looking at his face again, filled with fear that it would be a look of shock and disappointment, you buried your face in your hands again, fighting with everything in you not to cry and keep your composure. 

Frankie sat quietly for a moment, his hand covering up the gaping hole his jaw had made as it nearly hit the floor, shaking his head in disbelief before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling your hands to look at him. 

“R-really? You- fuck- You really think you’re pregnant?” 

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t believe the look on your husbands face- Not only was Frankie practically grinning from ear to ear, the sweet brown of his puppy dog eyes were welling with happy tears of their own, waiting on your every word as if he still didn’t believe what he was hearing. Silently, you began to slowly nod your head, biting down on your tongue, your heart feeling like it was about to shoot out of your chest. 

“You’re...y-you’re not upset?” You stammered, sitting up a little taller at Frankie’s reaction. 

“Upset? Hermosa, why in the world would I ever be upset?” Frankie laughed quietly, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his other hand cupped your jaw. “Querida… There’s nothing more I want on this earth than to have a family. And-fuck- The fact that it gets to be with you? That you might give me a family? How could I ever be upset about that? 

“Well it’s not like we were really trying for a baby, Frank. We said another year or two. With the house and money -” 

“Hey. We’ll figure it all out, okay? I promise, we’ll be more than okay.” Frankie smiled, his goofy grin still stretched wide between his cheeks, finally easing some of your worry. 

“I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to have a kid. I feel like I need to call up MTV to tell them I’ll be on the next season of 16 and Pregnant.” The two of you snorted, shaking your heads in awestruck disbelief that a stupid joke about a reality TV show could soon become your reality. 

“Well considering we’re married, have a house, and most importantly, are much closer to 30 than we are 16, I think they may have a hard time pitching the show “Married Couple Has a Baby”.” Frankie teased, giving you a playful nudge as the two of you laughed, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before trying to dig into details. “Did- Did you take a test? How long have you known?”

“No, I don’t know for sure yet, Frank. It’s… It’s just a feeling, I guess. But the huge, sore boobs, weird, period-like cramps and the fact that we really haven’t been the most careful are all pretty good clues.” 

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, we’ve tried to be care-” 

Before Frankie could even finish the rest of his thought, you were already giving him the sassiest look you could muster in your overwhelmed and sleepy state, making the two of you laugh again he let out a sigh of defeat. 

“Okay, yeah, we really haven’t been that careful at all. Sweetie, listen, I- I know it’s not what we had planned, but… I mean, if you are pregnant…” Frankie paused, smiling at your stomach as he gently place a hand over your belly, tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, “Baby, I would be so excited. Nervous as hell, but so fucking excited.” 

“Me too.” You sniffed, looking down at Frankie’s palm splayed across your stomach, heart swelling at the thought of Frankie being dad, thinking of how sweet and caring and perfect he’d be as you grew your little family together. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Frankie in close, letting out a shaky sigh, whispering your words through happy tears. 

“I love you so much, Frankie.” 

“I love you so much too, Hermosa. More than anything.” 

For the sake of Frankie’s shoulder, you pulled away to wipe your tears to keep from soaking your husband’s shirt, quietly laughing to yourself at the fact that this whole time you had been talking to Frankie, you had still been pantsless, hunched over the toilet. 

“It probably would have been way more romantic to tell you all of this not at 2:30 in the morning, pantsless and hunched over the toilet like a little gremlin.” You snorted, Frankie following suit as he shook his head, running his hand through the sleepy curls of your hair. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, mi amor. C���mon, let’s get you up to bed.” 

As the two of you sleepily trotted your way upstairs, curling together under the warmth of your comforter with Frankie’s chest pressed against your back, you couldn’t help but smile as his arm draped over your stomach, hand resting on your belly while his thumb traced soft circles on your skin, imagining what it would be like if a few months from now if you really were getting ready to add another member to your family. 

The next morning, as the sunrise began to spill through your curtains, casting bright orange and pink shadows on your bedroom walls, you couldn’t help but stir as the familiar scent and warmth of Frankie’s body was missing from his side of the bed.

 As you sat up in the sea of blankets and comforters, softly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Frankie’s frame quietly sneaking through the bedroom door, fresh mug of coffee and bag of breakfast in hand with a stupid smile plastered across his face as he was greeted with your barely awake grin. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Frankie cooed, setting down the coffee and breakfast down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing a tender kiss into the sleep-ridden ends of your hair before wrapping his arms around you in a long embrace. 

“Good morning, handsome.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a little grunt and laying your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “What’s all this for?” You asked, gesturing towards the coffee and oversized McDonald’s bag, assuming it was the reason for Frankie’s absence when you woke up. 

“I- I don’t know, I uh- I was just really excited when I got up this morning. It was early, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I made a trip to CVS to buy some pregnancy tests for you and figured I’d pick up breakfast on the way home.” Frankie smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, brushing past his untamed morning curls. “I know- I know you can’t really take the tests yet- I spent a lot of time reading the boxes in the store and wasn’t really sure what the best one was to take, so I got like, 4 different ones for when it's time.” 

“God, you’re so sweet. You’re the best, you know that? It’s about to be a long week of waiting before I can take one of those. Do you- fuck, Frankie, do you think it could really be positive?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as you smiled up at your husband, already beaming back at you, picturing the two pink lines showing up on all of the tests he had bought for you. 

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He smirked, gently cupping your face, swiping his thumb across your face. “But if it’s not, then maybe… Maybe we start trying for a positive one on purpose.” 

“R-really?” You grinned, biting down on your lip in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Frankie replied, bringing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, soaking in the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “And maybe…” 

“Maybe, what, Fransisco?” You giggled, bringing your mouth back to his in a sweet and sloppy kiss. 

“Maybe…. We start trying right now, ya know, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want all those pregnancy tests to go to waste.”

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@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @amyispxnk @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3

[gingersnap-17]

Life After War (Levi Ackerman x Fem Reader)

Authors Note: Hi everyone! I am so sorry it has been such a long time! I recently got married, and me and my husband have been working full time, so I have not really had any time to write! But, my goal is to write at least one to two stories per week! I know I usually write JJK stuff, but today I am going to write a short story around the Attack on Titan world!

Summary: After the battle of Heaven and Earth, Levi has been having a hard time adjusting to life. But, thanks to Y/N, post war life has been easier.

Word Count: 1276

In the aftermath of the Battle of Heaven and Earth, the world had changed drastically. The titans were gone, and the remnants of humanity began to rebuild their lives in a world free from the fear that had oppressed them for so long. However, for Levi Ackerman, the struggle was far from over. The battle had left him with severe injuries, both visible and hidden deep within his soul.

Levi’s body was a testament to the brutality of war. His once agile and powerful frame was now marred with scars and stiffened by the lingering pain of his wounds. His right hand, a vital tool for his blade work, was damaged beyond repair. The bandages that covered his injuries were a constant reminder of his limitations, a bitter pill for someone who had always relied on his physical prowess. The stoic captain found himself in an unfamiliar place: vulnerable and dependent.

Levi spent most of his days in a small, modest apartment in a city that was untouched by the rumbling, far from the small island he once called home. The apartment was a gift from Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon. A place where he could find solace and recover at his own pace. Despite the peaceful surroundings, Levi was restless. He felt caged by his injuries, haunted by the faces of those he had lost, and burdened by a future that seemed uncertain.

Luckily though, Levi still had you in his life. Out of all the friends and comrades he has had over the years, you were the one who managed to survive and stick by his side. The two of you had been in a romantic relationship only two months after the discovery of the Ocean and lands beyond Paridis. 

Despite the tranquil setting, Levi's restlessness was palpable. Each day, the battle replayed in his mind, a relentless loop of bloodshed and loss. The faces of fallen comrades haunted him, their sacrifices etched deeply into his memory. He often found himself staring at the bandages on his hand, a grim reminder of his altered reality.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, you entered the apartment. You had been out getting some groceries, hoping to lift Levi’s spirits with some of his favorite foods and of course his favorite tea. The moment you walked in, you could sense his unease. His eyes, though still sharp, held a distant look, as if he were lost in a world of his own making.

"Levi," you called softly, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. "I brought some tea. Thought it might help you relax."

He turned to you, his gaze softening slightly. "Thank you," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. "You always know what I need."

You approached him, taking a seat beside him on the small sofa. "How are you feeling today?" you asked, gently placing your hand on his.

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "It's...difficult," he admitted. "Being like this, unable to do the things I used to...it’s frustrating."

You only nod your head, standing up to prepare some tea for him. Over the years, you learned how to make tea to his liking. “I know how this has been hard on you, but you have my love and support, and the love and support of other people who care deeply for you.”

Levi watched as you prepared the tea, the familiar routine providing a small measure of comfort. He appreciated your unwavering support, though he struggled to express it in words. As you handed him the steaming cup, he took it gratefully, savoring the aroma.

"Thank you," he said again, this time with a bit more strength. "I don't say it enough, but I’m grateful for you every day."

You smiled warmly, giving him a kiss before sitting back down beside him. "And I'm grateful for you too. We'll find a way to move forward together. It has been hard and it has taken some time, but we are all figuring out this new life."

He only gave a quiet nod in response, which was something you had expected and grown quite used to over the years. The rest of the evening, the two of you sat together in the peace of your apartment, sharing positive memories of life before the war.

—————————————————————————

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Levi began to find solace in the small, simple pleasures of life. One day, while you were out for a walk together, Levi stopped in front of a quaint, abandoned shop. The building was worn and dusty, but it had a certain charm to it.

"This place," Levi said, looking at it with a contemplative expression. "It could be something...something good."

You held onto his arm to help support him as you followed his gaze, seeing the potential in the old shop. "What do you have in mind?" you asked, already having an idea of what he was thinking. This was something he would bring up quite often when you first started your relationship. 

"A tea shop," he replied. "A place where people can come and find a moment of peace. I’ve always found comfort in tea...maybe others will too."

You smiled, making a mental note to yourself that you just knew what he was going to say. "I think that’s a wonderful idea, Levi. We can make it happen."

With determination set on making this space something new, the two of you set to work on transforming the old shop. It was a labor of love, one that brought you both closer together. Levi, despite his injuries, poured his heart into the project. You handled the heavy lifting and intricate tasks, while Levi directed and contributed with his keen eye for detail.

The shop slowly came to life, the walls adorned with simple, elegant decorations and shelves lined with a variety of teas. Levi's favorite blends were prominently displayed, along with some new ones you had discovered together. The space was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the changed world outside.

“In all honesty, I think this place is going to be pretty popular.” You said, putting some books on a bookshelf to give the tea shop more character.

Levi was currently organizing the stock of teas, agreeing to what you had said. “I only hope it does. We spent a lot of our money on this place.”

You smile, heading over to Levi as you gently rubbed his shoulders. “Trust me, everyone will love it here. Besides, this is the first tea shop in town, so I’d expect people to be drawn into our place.” You knelt down next to where Levi was, helping him get a proper stock of each blend. “….What if once a month we can do story time and have the children in this town come with their parents? You could read to them!”

Levi looked at you, giving an unamused look. “I don’t know about that. Kids just pick their nose and make things all dirty.”

You fondly roll your eyes, knowing that your stubborn lover will eventually come around to the idea. “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

—————————————————————————

On the day of the grand opening, a small crowd gathered outside the shop. Among them were Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon, their faces beaming with pride and excitement. As Levi and you stood at the entrance, ready to welcome the first customers, he took your hand in his, a rare but cherished gesture of affection he made in public.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking into your eyes. "For believing in me, and for helping me find a new purpose."

You squeezed his hand, your heart full of love and admiration. "Always, Levi. This is just the beginning."

The doors opened, and people began to fill the shop, their faces lighting up as they took in the serene atmosphere. Levi moved among them with a quiet grace, offering recommendations and sharing stories behind the different teas. You watched him, seeing the man you loved finding joy in bringing comfort to others.

The tea shop quickly became a beloved fixture in the community. It was a place where people could escape the chaos of the world and find a moment of peace. Levi's reputation as a skilled and compassionate host grew, and so did the bonds he formed with the people who visited.

As the sun set on the shop’s first day, you and Levi sat together, sipping tea and reflecting on the journey that had brought you here. The future still held uncertainties, but you faced them together.

In the aftermath of the battle, the world had indeed changed drastically. But amid the ruins, you and Levi had built something beautiful—something that honored the past while embracing the future. And in that small tea shop, you found a haven where love, resilience, and the simple pleasure of a well-brewed cup of tea could heal even the deepest wounds.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Side note: I’m not back from my hiatus I’m just posting this because I magically managed to finish this chapter before going berserk! Yay!

Chapter 20 - Can I show you how much I love you? (18+)

Summary: You just wanted to eat breakfast. So how did you end up in the shower with your freakishly handsome boyfriend, kissing each other senseless?! And the bed?! When did you get there? What’s going on?! WHAT IS THIS SHENANIGAN?!

Warnings: Swear words, 18+!!! Contains a sex scene. (It’s mostly smut, so please, if you are not okay with that or you are under 18, skip this chapter or well… you know... 😂 Thank you!)

Also, this chapter is 7K so get some water and something to snack on!

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Rise and shine, you drunkard.” You giggle to yourself as you look at your fluffy, absolutely adorable boyfriend who’s already frowning from the light coming in through the window.

“Hey, you wanted me to have fun, which I certainly did.” Izuku retorts sassily. You can’t help but gawk at him which only makes the green head laugh. “I’ll be fine after I take my pills. I’m not in more pain than usual, I swear.”

“Still, drinking this much in your condition…” You mutter, probably ruining the mood completely but fuck, you are so worried. It’s terrible to see such a hard working man so down, physically and mentally. You want him to be healthy and happy again, you want him to smile freely and sleep peacefully like he used to. You want to shield him from any harm, make sure nothing prolongs his current suffering but at the same time, you understand that’s he’s not a fragile human being who needs to be pampered the entire time, however, you still can’t help but want to do that.

“Sweets, I asked.” Izuku sighs. “The doctor said it’s fine. I’m fine. You are fine. Everything is fine.” He slowly strokes your cheeks until you finally relax. It takes a little bit of time, but eventually, you get there. “What do you want to do today, love?” Izuku smiles at you and it’s quite pathetic how your heart rate rises every time he’s sweet to you, even to this day. You’ve been together for long enough to get used to these touches but somehow, you just… can’t.

“Well, Katsuki, Ei, Shouto, Mirio and Tamaki went ‘monster hunting’ early in the morning. By that, I think they meant they are going to climb the big mountain. Denki is still KO so Hitoshi brought him back to their own cabin when Katsuki and the gang left for their adventures. Kyouka and Momo went down to the high street for a shopping spree. Rody went down with them to spend some time with his family. So once we clean up the bedding from the floor and… maybe we can just… chill today? In our own cabin? Try the onsen? Maybe?” Your cheeks are so flushed you are surprised Izuku haven’t commented on it yet.

“Hmm…” his cheeky hands find their way to your tummy under your shirt, slowly stroking your naked skin with a smug smirk on his face. What happened to shy Izuku?! Where is he?! Who’s this man?! “Sounds like a plan to me, Sweets.”

“If you keep doing that, we will never make it to our cabin.” You murmur into his ears with a shit-eating grin on your face. Izuku is out of the bed before you can say anything else, stuttering nonsense under his nose as he moves the so called “bedding” - a bunch of decorative pillows and massive blankets scattered on the floor - back to where they belong and he’s out of the door without a single word. You can’t help but giggle the whole way home.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” You snicker under your nose and Izuku gives you the sassiest side eye you’ve ever seen. It’s absolutely hilarious. “What?!” Oh no. You can’t stop giggling like an idiot. You really don’t need another tummy ache after yesterday’s shenanigans!

“I’m going to the onsen. Right now.” Izuku declares.

“No, not before breakfast.” You retort, standing with your hand on your hips like an angry mother.

“Oh yeah?” He comes closer, his smile bigger and bigger as you flush from his closeness. “Watch me.”

Ladies and gentleman, what happens now must be a fever dream… because Pro Hero Deku AKA Midoriya Izuku AKA Izu-Izu takes off his fucking shirt in the most attractive way possible and slowly sheds every single clothing off while you yell like a virgin with your eyes covered by your own hands.

“What the fuck, Izuku! Stop! Keep the boxers… oh my god, STOP THE VIOLENCE!” You laugh, cheekily peeking out between your fingers. “You also need to shower before going in! IZUKU LISTEN TO ME, YOU MENACE!”

“Only if you shower with me.” Izuku WINKS at you and you swear your soul just left your body for a second.

“Only if you eat breakfast.” You retort and by the surprised look on Izuku’s face, he didn’t think you’ll even consider saying yes to that question.

“You will… shower with me?” Izuku’s confidence is gone just like that, in a matter of milliseconds and you kinda feel the urge to just push him into the bathroom to prove how serious you were but you are way too hungry to even think properly right now so…

“After we had breakfast. I’m starving, Izu-Izu.”

“But… for real?”

“Well, we’ve been together for long enough to share a shower, haven’t we?” You answer with a massive blush on your face.

“I’ll re-heat the food Katsuki left for us.” Is all the answer you get before he trots away into the kitchen.

The mood… is heavy. There is just something in the air you can’t really describe, this weird tension, but not the bad kind… you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to know that today… something big will happen. It might just be the shower, seeing each other completely naked for the first time, but maybe it won’t stop there, maybe…

All the blood from your face goes somewhere else.

Calm down. Jesus Christ, woman, just calm down.

You were so deep in your thoughts you didn’t even realize the that the food is already heated up and ready to eat on the small table in the kitchen. The lovely scent of Katsuki’s food makes your tummy grumble; it might be weird to eat lunch for breakfast, but you literally can’t even be bothered to comment on it; in your household, it’s quite normal to eat whatever you guys want, whenever you want it, thanks to Izuku’s inhuman shift patterns. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, afternoon snack; food is food. That’s your household’s motto.

“The food is served, my princess!” Izuku’s adorable face appears in front of you; he bows low and makes that arm movement the butlers do in those dramas in the TV. The whole scene would be quite funny if he wouldn’t be wearing one single underwear and nothing else.

Let’s just say it’s hard to laugh when you are too focused on… well… the curves. The shapes. The godly body. Those massive fucking legs which could crush your head like a watermelon without even flinching…

“The food is indeed served.” You mutter under your nose, loudly by accident and Izuku starts to laugh, tears prickling his eyes as he holds his tummy, probably trying not to throw up once again.

“Oh… my… god… Sweets… I didn’t see that coming.”

“Me neither!” You yell as you pass by your stupidly attractive boyfriend, completely avoiding eye contact because there is no way you can look at him right now with how embarrassed you are. “Put on a fucking shirt!”

Izuku laughs some more but obliges at the end.

Thank fuck.

~•🥦•~

“If you changed your mind, that’s okay.” Izuku caresses your face as you two stand in the bathroom, still clothed. You are quite sure your face is the color of Eijirou’s hair right now. Your limbs are shaking like a leaf and you feel so much anxiety you could cry. It’s stupid, really; it’s not like it’s your first time to be naked in front of somebody, yet it really does feel like it is; Izuku is not like the others, he’ll actually look at you, look at your curves and the tiny little flaws and he’ll remember everything until the day he dies, cherish them like they are something special, because that’s who Midoriya Izuku is; the most caring, most loving partner the world has ever seen.

“I want this.” You declare confidently. “Yes.” You nod to yourself with a tiny pout on your face.

“Yes.” Izuku parrots, making the same, tiny pout then he gives you a smile that makes your insides melt right away. “You are so cute, Sweets. I love you so much.”

“Shut up and get naked!” You yell with a red face. He’s too much. This is too much. He’s too perfect. You can’t even take his teasing seriously with how much love you see in his eyes as he does it.

“Hey, you are not the only one freaking out here!” Izuku yelps awkwardly. “Turn around… please?”

His wavering voice make you look up to his face; he’s flushed and trembly as he slowly takes his shirt off, the movement full of hesitation. You really feel the urge to mention how only an hour ago, he wasn’t this shy about stripping in front of you, but you keep your thoughts to yourself.

“You can also change your mind, you know.” You finally turn around to give him some privacy.

“I’ve been waiting for this ages. There is no way in hell I’ll back out of this just because of my stupid anxiety.” Izuku grumbles, more to himself than to you. “You’ve seen me naked before. You’ve seen my scars. You know all my secrets. I have no reason for me to feel so ashamed of myself. It’s all in my head… I know I’m not ugly. That’s a lie, fuck… I know… I know you think I’m… okay. I know you won’t mind… me looking like this. Most and foremost, I know you love me for who I am and not for how I look like…” he mumbles and mumbles, not realizing you managed to get out of your clothes by the time he managed to get to his underwear. Your eyes are filled with tears from his words, you want to slap him in the face for hating himself like that and kiss him senseless out of pride for finally realizing it’s all in his head.

With that said…

“Izuku, look at me.” You appear behind your boyfriend, probably standing way too close for it to be appropriate, but you don’t care right now.

Izuku bumps right into you when he turns around; a tiny yelp leaves his mouth as your breasts bounce on his chest. “If I ever hear you calling yourself ugly I’ll pull out every single one of your leg hairs with a tweezer, one buy one, in the most painful way possible. Now turn around, finish what you are doing and see you in the shower.”

“That’s weirdly… evil.” Izuku snickers but by the look of it, you plan worked because he looks much less anxious now. You quickly go inside the shower cubicle to hide, not giving the man too much time to check you out… yet.

You can hear some rustling from outside then Izuku takes a few deep breaths and steps inside the now foggy shower and… you forget how to breathe.

Izuku looks gorgeous on a normal day, but this… is downright sinful. Izuku is stocky but not in the wrong way; you knew that already but with his underwear now gone, you can see how perfect the proportion is. He’s perfect. His shoulders are massive, but he has a nice curve to his body and there is a tiny trail of green hair leading towards his perfectly trimmed intimate area, also pine green just like his hair… then… that’s… a monster between his legs. Yup. You slowly look up and to the side to calm yourself down because that sight went straight into your core and this shower doesn’t feel that innocent anymore.

“Sweets, I… I’ll have problems down there if you keep looking this pretty, just giving you a heads up.” Izuku whines with a high pitched voice. By the time you wake up from your daze he already turned his back to you (you try your best not to stare at that gorgeous fucking ass, because hell, that thing looks like it was carved by a horny but extremely talented sculptor), probably ashamed of himself for feeling this way. You can’t help but speak up.

“If I would… have the same thing between my legs, I would have the same problem.” You admit sheepishly.

“Why are we so awkward about the stupidest things?” Izuku giggles. You want to pinch him. (His ass. You want to pinch his ass. That’s what you want to do you cheeky sod.)

“I don’t mind. I think it’s really… us, that we act this way. I wouldn’t have this any other way.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Say that again and I’ll forcefully kiss you.”

“Hm. That doesn’t sound that bad.”

“IZUKU!“ you yell into the small space as you hide your face in your palms like that helps anything. Your forehead ends up on Izuku’s back and he yelps helplessly; you don’t need to see his face to know he’s red all over because even the back of his neck is the color of a lobster.

“Okay, I’m done with this awkwardness.” Izuku takes a deep breath and the next moment, your back hits the wall. You can’t help, but whimper. “Sweets, you are the most perfect human being I’ve ever seen and I’ve been waiting for this moment for ages, so I’m sorry for… uhm… being a little bit too excited right now but I really want to wash your back if you… uhm…” Izuku stops in the middle of the sentence as he’s incapable to continue thanks to your mouth being on his.

You can’t help it. Just… can’t. Your body moved on its own.

Izuku is irresistible. His gorgeous muscles, the veins on his arms, the softness of his wet skin, topped up with his kind words and pretty freckles is just too much after all this time; you wanted to touch him for so long, you wanted to feel him for months which honestly, feels like decades at this point… it feels like the love is about to burst out of your chest but there are no words strong enough to satiate your soul, to make it clear enough for the other the understand the depth of your feelings and your body is not listening to you anymore; the desire has festered into something unstoppable, it clouded your mind completely until there were no thoughts there just Izuku himself, freckled cheeks and pine green hair, the broccoli…

Wait.

“If this is your way to make this less awkward… it works.” Izuku kisses you back with a newly found vehemence, scorching hot yet so careful, but you don’t kiss back anymore… you push the man away like he just burned you, because… “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“I forgot!”

“What?”

“How did I forget about it?” You whimper, completely ashamed of yourself. “I can’t believe I was so astonished by your… uhm… that I forgot to check it out! I’m the worst!”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, is the water too hot?” Izuku blinks at you, completely lost.

“The broccoli! I forgot about your broccoli! I can’t believe this!”

Izuku… bursts out laughing. He’s folded in half, his forehead basically cushioned by your boobs, shaking like a leaf from guffawing too hard.

“You pushed me away in the middle of a heavy, naked make-out session because you wanted to see my tattoo?” He looks into your eyes with an incredulous, but fond gaze.

“It’s important to me!” You mutter under your nose and Izuku doesn’t even answer you anymore; he just moves away and pushes his hip out, showing off his tiny, adorable broccoli tattoo sitting on his hipbone. You can’t stop your fingers from reaching out, caressing the colored skin with nothing but wonder in your eyes. “It’s so cute.”

Your boyfriend looks so much leaner than he usually does - you realize as you caress his strong hipbone, your fingers cheekily running over the dip by his waist.

Damn, you’ll never ever get over his thighs. Every time you look at them you remember his photoshoot with Mirko, the one that made Izuku a fashion icon, a genderless beauty because hell, Izuku is as manly as they get but… that man in Mirko’s costume kinda made you question your own sexuality.

Maybe you are just Izuku-sexual. He could be a man, a woman, someone between the two, hell, a fucking midget and you would still be attracted to him.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N.” Izuku sighs, right next to your ears. The fire burns even stronger inside you. The feeling only gets worse when his hand travels from your waist to the side of your breast, his thumb cheekily caressing the plump, soft skin. You make the mistake of looking down out of pure embarrassment just to be face to face with the proof of how much Izuku likes what he sees.

You can’t see it, but you can feel him staring at you; you look up and you are met with two heavily lidded eyes taking in the sight from the top of your head down to your feet, over and over. There is a new shine to them now, hot and scorching and you completely melt under that loving gaze; he takes that as a permission to take it further and starts peppering kisses all over your wet neck. You can’t help but move your hand into his soft, dripping curls; you clench your hand around the strands and Izuku makes a sinful sound which goes right into your center and the next few minutes are kinda a blur; things fall from the small shelving system inside the cubicle, someone slips, someone bites, someone moans, there is a constant pressure by your belly, something hard, but also soft to the touch, there are hands on your chest, on your back, on your thighs, everywhere, really.

Your whole body is on fire and so is his; the water is way too cold, but even that can not ruin the moment you two are having.

There are no thoughts in your head, just him. Izuku Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku. Calloused fingers and the feeling of scars under your hands, hard muscle and soft skin, bouncy curls, the scent of Izuku’s shower gel, which somehow decided to appear out of nowhere (he probably took it off the shelf while you were too busy kissing him senseless and actually decided to be useful and clean you up while touching you all over), there is so much going on yet your mind is completely empty.

This is what Izuku does to you on a daily basis. He comes close and you forget who you are.

The scent of Izuku’s shower gel only sends thrill down your spine; the knowledge that for the next few hours you’ll smell like him, taste like him just ignites your body once again, the flames even stronger than before, you can’t help but touch him, first just his arms, then the tattoo on his side, the back of his neck, his collarbone, then the soft hair right on top of his member. You didn’t touch him properly but a wanton moan leaves Izuku’s mouth right as your fingers start to caress the hair down there then suddenly, Izuku gently slaps your hand away from that area.

You don’t have time to freak out about “going too far”; the next moment your back hits the wall once again, your legs somehow make their way around the man’s extremely attractive waist then he slowly moves you lower and lower until you feel something soft but sturdy right between your folds, just like the last time you two enjoyed each other’s company in the hot tub.

“Tell me to stop.” Izuku whimpers right into your ears then ends his sentence by biting down on your ear. His whole body shakes from the restraint, his palms are aggressively gripping your side and the back of your neck; Izuku is doing his fucking best to not move his hips forward, to not let him feel the pleasure of the friction because once it’s done, there is no way back for him; there is a limit to his restraint, there is a limit to how much of this can Izuku take without losing his goddamn mind…

You tear Izuku’s walls down with one single movement, with just a tiny little friction and you both moan in tandem as the pleasure creates goosebumps on your skin, but maybe, it’s just the cold water coming from the shower head; it doesn’t matter though because your answer is loud and clear and that’s all it takes for Izuku to turn off the shower with one hand and manhandle you into a towel-burrito before he takes you to the bedroom like a princess, his teeth clattering from the cold.

You should feel shy and embarrassed. You should be freaking out when Izuku drops you down on the bed and towers over you with your boobs halfway out of your towel.

You don’t feel any of that. Neither is he.

It just feels… normal. Exciting.

“Finally…” Izuku giggles with excitement sparkling in his gorgeous eyes. He pulls the cover on top of you both and takes a few deep breaths to stop the shaking of his body; he waits a few minutes in silence, just staring at your chest and face, remembering it all while your bodies get warmer under the cover and the goosebumps are finally gone. You trace the old scars on his chest and his tummy, you give them all the love you possibly can without saying a single word. The silence isn’t awkward… this silence is… precious. It’s like there’s no need for words, no need for verbal communication because everything is written all over your faces, it’s in every single caress, every single kiss, every single sigh that leaves your mouths as you touch each other in new places. Your hand can’t get away from that perfectly trimmed bush on top of Izuku’s member so you find yourself there once again, just caressing the prickly skin, enjoying the way it feels under your fingertips.

The mood is calmer now, more mature but still full of those flames from before; it’s a weird, conflicting combination but it somehow works for you two. “Sweet pea.” Izuku whimpers while his free hand fondles your boob. You can’t help but moan into the air between you two as his thumps finds your bud and starts fiddling with it. “Can I show you how much I love you?” All you can do is nod weakly, your eyes full of tears. No one ever treated you like this, like you are a goddess who deserves to be worshipped, like every caress is a gift, like your body is something worth cherishing and you feel so loved already you kinda want to tell him to not even bother anymore, but you don’t have the heart to do that after looking into his half-lidded, excited eyes.

“Please.” You smile at your boyfriend happily. He bumps your foreheads together for a few seconds and smiles right back; this moment is special, it feels like there is a red string connecting you two together, the one that’s indestructible and infinite; the strings of faith are almost visible now as Izuku leans down to connect your chests, but maybe you are just too delirious and too aroused to be able to distinguish delusion from reality.

Izuku seals the deal with the hottest kiss known to mankind and you are halfway to your orgasm already and he haven’t even touched you yet.

“Plus Ultra!” Izuku gives you one last smile before he dives under the covers, right between your legs and you scream his name as you come in less than 3 minutes. Three. Fucking. Minutes.

He just… went in and… oh my god. Midoriya Izuku, goddamn Pro Hero Deku just… he’s… really talented with his tongue. Let’s just leave it at that.

You need 5 to 7 days to get over the fact that you just received the best oral you’ve ever had and it was from your favorite pro Hero who you are ridiculously in love with.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done.” You can feel Izuku’s smile on the inside of your thighs as he starts peppering kisses all over the area. It’s so loving and so careful, so slow yet so passionate… you can’t help but feel the arousal wake up inside you once again. “I really love your legs. I always wanted to kiss them. They are so soft and your thighs are so… ahh, I wanna sleep on them. They are better than the best memory foam pillow on the market. You also taste really nice. I think I’m becoming addicted.” Izuku goes back to the “treasure” and leaves tiny kisses all over your folds, teasing the most sensitive parts with his tongue to steal another taste. You can’t help but whimper; it’s extremely sensitive now but the touch is light enough to be pleasurable even in this state.

“I also love your tummy. Having a six pack is great, but I really enjoy soft and cute things.” Izuku adds with an obsessed tone which makes you blush like a virgin. “You are the softest and cutest of them all. I love you.” Izuku leaves a trail of kisses all over your tummy until he reaches your chest; he pops your bud into his mouth and does something with his tongue that makes you see stars; it almost feels like swirling water, soft and languid. It’s extremely hard to describe the feeling without comparing Izuku’s tongue to a tentacle, which, let’s be honest, would make this fanfiction so much dirtier than it really is.

“I’m not even going to try and give these two a justice with my words.” Is all Izuku says before he takes your other bud into his mouth to give it some love. If you think this can’t get more hot, you are wrong; Izuku starts to nibble your chest gently, sucking on the soft skin without leaving a mark, his eyes downright manic as he makes sure there isn’t a single millimeter left unloved.

Needless to say, you guys will need to change the sheets after this because well… you are soaking wet. Again.

You try your best to hide this information from your boyfriend for now because while Izuku is a man on a mission, you also have your own plans and knowing how much Izuku enjoys giving, he wouldn’t let you do anything today until your “situation” is “sorted.”

“Izu-Izu.” You rake your fingers through Izuku’s hair, clenching your fist on the top of his head just to hear him moan once again. And again. And again. Hell, Izuku has the most sinful moan, high pitched and weirdly feminine; he always tries to stop himself in the middle of the sound and the way his voice falters and breaks, then goes so high in the last one second… just makes your “situation” even worse. “Let me love you too, goddamnit!” You whine and moan at the same time. Izuku stops with his shenanigans for one second and that’s all you need to finally manage to roll him over and end up in his lap. You are not going to lie, it took all of your strength to be able to do that and you are panting a little bit but it was all worth it for the sight; he is blushing like crazy and he looks so lost now that he’s not in charge. You don’t even try to stop yourself from kissing him senseless, it’s physically impossible to do so.

“I feel like I’m going to explode.” You admit between two kisses. “Fucking hell, Izuku, are you even human? Is this another quirk of yours? Are you a lust demon? How can you do stuff like that with this adorable, innocent face? How?” You complain, while Izuku giggles. “Don’t fucking giggle, I’m serious!”

“I think I have a thing for being manhandled. I’m also about to explode.” He admits sheepishly with his hand wondering down to your bottom cheekily. You take a deep breath and move down to his belly, not letting him touch your private parts because it’s your turn now to love him endlessly and you want to do it without any distractions.

“Good. Suffer with me.” You retort cheekily and Izuku giggles once more. “You have so many freckles on your chest and tummy, I love it so much. I love your freckles, have I ever told you that?” You mumble as you kiss Izuku’s hard abs. His hands wander into your hair the same way yours did and you can kinda understand why is Izuku so hot and bothered when you do that to him.

“No, you didn’t.” Izuku chokes on air.

“Well, now you know.” You answer simply. “You have the body of a god, but I like your face the most. And your hair. And how some of your scars are softer to touch than your normal skin. I love the texture. Like this one.” Your hand moves up to Izuku’s pecks, caressing the massive scar on the side of his left breast. “You are so handsome but nothing is as pretty as your soul. Izuku, you look perfect from the outside but compared to you as a person, it’s fucking nothing. If I would have a quirk I would want to be able to go inside your soul… just so I can kiss it senseless.” You make no sense. You are aware of it. No need to comment on it. How the fuck are you supposed to stay coherent in this situation?! It doesn’t feel real. It’s too fucking good to be real.

A tiny sob cuts through the tension and you emerge from the covers to look into your boyfriend’s eyes. Of course, he’s crying. “You are such a crybaby.” You smile down at him with nothing but fondness. “My little crybaby. I love you so much.” You leave a tiny kiss on his mouth.

“No one… ever… made me feel like this.” Izuku admits between two sobs. “Like I’m the best thing in the whole world. No one ever managed to actually make me believe them, but you… you make it sound like it’s possible that I’m not… a failure. I feel so loved I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Enjoy it. You deserve it. You are the best thing, at least for me.” You leave tiny kisses on your boyfriend’s neck to divert his attention.

“And you are the best thing, for me.” He retorts with a sigh. “I want to build a shrine to you and pray for your well-being every day. I want to do this every day… I want to eat and drink YOU, I want to become YOU… I want us to become one and stay like that forever, because I’m the best thing only because you are next to me. Fuck, that doesn’t make any sense and it sounded so much cooler in my head…” Izuku mutters shyly, looking at the wall due to his embarrassment.

“Let’s become one, then. We can’t stay like that forever, but… I want… uhm…” you mumble with a red face as you move one of your hands under the covers to caress his painfully hard member with one finger. Izuku almost chokes on his saliva just from this one touch. It fills you with pride.

You absolutely enjoy the way Izuku is writhing under you, his face contorted by the pleasure while your hand moves on his member up and down, slow but steady. He doesn’t let you enjoy the game for too long; one second you are in charge then the next your back hits the soft bed once again and Izuku’s finger finds his way to his folds, slowly easing the first finger inside, followed by the second almost immediately.

“Sweets… you really like me this much?” Izuku moves his fingers around your folds to feel the wetness around the area. You can’t help but look away shyly, completely embarrassed from being so excited. Your plan failed. Goddamnit.

“Sorry…”

“What? No! Don’t be!” Izuku freaks out for a split second. “I’m just… really happy. I loose my confidence in bed really quickly but you make it so easy for me. Your whole body speaks to me, it tells me it’s okay, that this is good for you and I’m so thankful.” Izuku slowly eases the third finger in; a quiet whimper leaves your mouth as he starts scissoring inside to make this as easy for you as possible. “I’ll make sure to thank you by being the best partner now and forever. Sweets… Y/N… can I…”

“Fucks sake, Izu, yes. You can do whatever you want. I’m yours and you are mine. That’s all I need to know.”

“Okay.” Izuku nods, clearly spiraling a little bit. “Yeah, uhm, I’m gonna get the… stuff. Just stay here.”

“Damn, I was about to run out for some coffee.” You add jokingly, but Izuku is on a mission and he can’t understand sarcasm…

“I’ll get you some coffee from the kitchen, then!”

You start laughing like a maniac.

“Oh my god, I was joking, you silly. Hurry up!”

“Oh… I’m an idiot.” Izuku takes the box of condoms out of his backpack. You will make sure to ask him later about the fact that he had some with him… Cheeky little fuck.

You also try your best to not stare at that perfect butt. Damn, you are eating well today!

He has a few stretch marks on his back, but it’s only visible when you look really closely; which you do because you can’t help yourself, even though you literally just said that you won’t.

“Yeah, but you are my idiot. Now get back here and love me.” You continue to stare at that perfect peach, but Izuku turns around and you look away swiftly because the front is just as delicious as the back and you honestly don’t think you can take more of this right now. It’s quite comical how the color of his broccoli tattoo is the same as his hair down there; its a little bit sad how you’ll never be able to boast on your “Deku lovers” group chat about it. They would probably laugh in your face anyway, thinking you are a liar because there is no way the perfect pro hero Deku has a silly little broccoli tattoo.

“Okay.” Izuku grins with a flushed face and barges back into the bed, right into your arms.

He starts peppering kisses all over your neck, giggling happily like a schoolboy, then moves back to your face to leave another scorching hot kiss on your mouth while his hand slowly wonders down to your intimate areas to make sure you are ready for the “good stuff.”

It takes all your self-restraint to not come from the sight on top of you; Izuku’s hair is disheveled and he looks so fucking out of it that you would think he’s being touched himself, but your hands are in his hair and you feel no friction anywhere on your body which means he just… enjoys pleasing you so much it makes him look like he’s five seconds from coming. His fingers stop moving and he slowly retracts them, leaving you empty and sad for a split of a second but then he puts the condom package into his mouth and tears it open while keeping eye contact with you the whole time and you swear you see stars. Izuku is just too much. Too hot and too dirty but also so innocent and loving, it just doesn’t make sense, really… but…

“Are you ready, Sweets? Tell me if it hurts, okay? Promise me.” He looks at you worriedly and your heart just melts inside your chest and becomes nothing but a big lump of goo.

“I promise… OH MY GOD.” You almost yell as you feel the first few centimeters inside you. Izuku bites his lips once and takes a few deep breath, not moving, just waiting for you to get used to the sting, to the almost foreign sensation because damn, the man isn’t small and it has been ages you’ve been in this situation with anyone. “I’m fine, I’m fine, keep going, Izu.” You try to reassure him as best as you can. It starts to feel really good down there even though he’s not even halfway in.

He slowly moves further and the sting is back but it’s not as bad as it was before; it really quickly turns into an intoxicatingly amazing sensation that makes your whole body tremble and Izuku drops his face on your chest, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

“Relax or I’ll really embarrass myself. Please. You feel too good. Why didn’t we do this sooner?” He mutters into your breasts and if you wouldn’t be so aroused you would have laughed in his face for being so cute, but…

“You can move. Please. Move.” You stutter as a sudden wave of pleasure hits you just right. Izuku doesn’t say anything just moves back to his original position and slides out a bit and then back again and you are so happy everyone is out and about because you are quite sure the whole neighborhood just heard you moan. “Izu…”

“I think I’m going to cry again, but it’s happy tears.” Izuku admits sheepishly while he starts a slow but steady pace. His moans are quiet and his voice breaks quite frequently but there is something about it that makes you tremble in pleasure; probably the fact that you are the reason he sounds like that, deep but also squeaky, you are the reason his face is flushed from all the bliss… you feel so lucky to be able to experience this, to feel all this love, to be the reason for Izuku’s happy tears; you are so thankful for taking that big leap of faith by moving in with a stranger all those months ago.

“I love… love you. Izu. Izuku.” You stutter as Izuku’s pace picks up and you are absolutely incapable to think from this point; you both moan each other’s name in tandem as you chase your orgasms, Izuku clearly tries his best to keep his focus on you, to listen to where and how it feels the best and slowly but surely that pleasant feeling starts to build up with every thrust Izuku delivers to the right spot; Izuku’s arms start to tremble and it makes you stop for a second; this shaking doesn’t seem to be from the pleasure and Izuku looks a little bit stressed as you look into his eyes so you put your hand on his chest, silently asking for him to stop.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Izuku starts to apologize but you are not having any of that.

“Lay down.” You command kindly. Izuku looks utterly confused for a second but he does it anyway. You don’t give him a single warning before you sit in his lap with your hands perched on his naked, beautifully sculpted chest and slowly ease yourself back down on his length. Izuku’s face contorts in utter pleasure, now that his arms are not hurting anymore and you pat yourself on the back inside your little mind palace for realizing something is wrong even while your mind was clouded by all the new sensations. “Good boy.” You caress Izuku’s muscly chest. Izuku moans loudly and moves his hip upwards, finding that special point once again, even in this new position.

Izuku looks ethereal from this point of view; his hair is splayed out on the white pillow, no curly strand the same as the other, his face is flushed and his eyes are sparkling like a rare gemstone, gaze full of love and lust and by that look on his face, he doesn’t mind this position either; every single movement makes his face scrunch up, his moans becoming hiccups and silent pleas to keep doing what you are doing, just like that, and it barely takes 10 more minutes for you two to feel the coil inside your tummy snap, Izuku doing the same a few more thrusts later.

You’ve never come this hard before. Your body shakes violently and you barely keep yourself up right while Izuku moves his hips up and down really slowly to prolong this amazing feeling, tears prickle your eyes from the pleasure, and once the feeling is gone you collapse on Izuku’s chest; you didn’t realize how much you strained your legs by doing this until you came down from your high, but when it it hit, you couldn’t help but whimper, this time, from the pain.

There are some other parts of your body that feel a tiny bit funny right after you two separate with a whimper, but honestly, you’ve seen that coming.

“I’ve never done this this way.” Izuku admits shyly.

“Never?” You look up at your boyfriend as you slowly move to his side; you need to lay down properly for a second. Everything is spinning.

“No. It was always… me doing everything. I want to do this again. And again. And again.”

“I’ll need to hit the gym then.” You giggle to yourself and seeing your boyfriend’s confused face, he doesn’t really understand the problem. “Izuku, this position… needs a lot of leg muscles. I don’t have any. I’m quite sure I pulled at least one muscle in both of my legs.”

“I’m more than happy to help you with that!” Izuku sits up excitedly. You give him a side eye. “Not like that, you silly! Actual training! And that, too, of course, but only if you want to do it again. I’m okay with anything until it’s you.”

You want to put this man on a plate and eat him. How can he be so sweet?!

“I love you, you weirdo.” You giggle into his hair then you leave a tiny kiss on his neck as a silent thank you.

“I love you too, Sweets. Let’s have a few minutes of rest then let’s go to the onsen.”

“Oh my god, the onsen sounds magical right now.” You sigh, utterly pleased. “Izu?”

“Hm?”

“Are you happy?”

“I’m the happiest fucking freak in the whole wide world, Sweets.” He smiles. “Are you happy?”

“I think I’m high on happiness.” You pant, exhausted.

“Good. Me too.”

… to be continued!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- I can’t believe this finally happened! Honestly, I’m not a big fan of writing these kind of things but even I was excited about this to finally happen because the tension was absolutely ridiculous! 😂 Not gonna lie, I have many other ideas about what this version of Izuku likes but I probably won’t be able to use them as they would be too dirty for this otherwise innocent story. 😂 I love these two so much, they are so perfect for each other!

- I hope you guys are okay. Sorry for not responding to your lovely comments, I read them all and I send you all hugs! I hope I will see you soon but to be honest with you, I don’t think it will be sooner than 4 weeks, maybe more if shit goes south in my life.

- There will be changes to my uploads when I come back, I’ll leave a note for you guys once we get to it. I might need you to answer some questions too, because I have no idea what to do 😂

- Random personal ramble: so funny story about my recent life; I went home to my home country to see my mom and I told her about how much I want an airfryer but I don’t really have space for it nor money to spare. I didn’t know she actually owns one so I got really excited when I saw it! A day after I came back to England there was an Amazon order on my doorstep that I didn’t order. Guys, my mom went on Amazon and bought me an airfryer. I’ve been making cakes and baked apples every day since. Get an air fryer if you can. It’s amazing. Thank you for listening. 😂

Here’s a quick, delish recipe for you: get some apples, cut them in half, get rid of the stem, put a bunch of Nutella in it then sprinkle cinnamon on top (or pour half of the bottle on it like I do. Lol). Bake it for 40 mins on 160C. You are welcome. (You can also use dark chocolate instead of Nutella if you wanna make it healthier. You can also hide a walnut inside. Omnomnom.

- I’ll shut up now. Tell me your thoughts!

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave @alyss-eiz @sleepisfortheweakpooh

[screeblees]

Haihaiaihaihi!!!! I reallllllllllllly like ur Angry Yan x comfort reader drabbles!!! I'm someone you'd call an absolute night owl, and maybe even someone with a big mouth. I'm always up for saying what I liek and fighting people I think are dumb. (Verbally. Most of the time.)

At night, (if the day hasn't beat my ass) I'm an insane lunatic who rambles to herself. think of me like a cat. very judgy one. (but if the day has beat my ass and I'm crying on the floor i'm just going to sleep in my tears) (jk no tears cowgirls don't cry/j)

TL;DR: I'm a bitch and I like to yapp, but I love going insane at night and talking and rambling like there's no tomorrow. That or I'm out cold like ice. There's no in-between. (btw kinda willing)

sorry i wrote this at 12:56 am and I am sick so I feel a bit silly nyahahah just a little nayahah

MEOWWWWW bounCES OFF YOUR walls very politely.

If you can't make sense of my gibberish please tell me and i'll rewrite it later when i feel more sane.

Hii!! Thanks so much for the ask (and for the very polite meows and wall-bouncing :3)!! I hope I managed to correctly translate your stream of thoughts <3

Angry ! Yandere Headcanons here !

Sorry it's been a bit since I've posted!! I get pretty busy this time of year so I've been writing where I can!

But please still send asks, I love receiving them!! :D

Find my Masterlist here !

Please enjoy!!<33

❥ Angry ! Yandere who cannot help but be in awe of you as he listens to your extensive ramblings of your topic of choice, the two of you have all the time in the world after all!

❥ Angry ! Yandere who was initially worried your talkative nature would be replaced with a shell of yourself when he first took you as his, but very quickly - as soon as you woke up, actually - that that would not be the case and found himself thrilled to hear your defiant words (he would soon teach you, but this was a great first step in your adjustment!)

❥ Angry ! Yandere who cannot find it within him to be made angry by your words, (almost) no matter what you say - at least towards you, other people on the other hand are an entirely different story - even with your extreme lack of filter, which makes him more lenient with you than he would in other areas (making back-talk your only real way to be defiant). Although this can change at the drop of a hat if his mood is already rough, that forgiving attitude being nowhere to be seen even with that usually tolerance.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who immensely enjoys not needing to punish you - it makes him proud that the two of you have come so far since he first brought you here - his moods are made even better by your chatterbox personality which supplies him a near-continuous source of peace, basking in it.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who takes great pleasure in the sound of your voice, especially when he’s falling asleep while you stay up for hours, long into the night. Your babble like white noise or pleasant rain sounds for him (and only him) to fall asleep to.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who doesn’t mind if you stay up late playing video games or working on a hobby - as long as you can sit on the bed with him whilst doing so as to let him sleep on or near you.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who minds immensely if you are the type to get up and move around a lot, needing to be up and moving not only takes the sounds of your voice move farther away from his ears but it stops him from being able to loop his arms around your waist or rest his head against you - this will only end in you being tied up and unable to leave him, which may be uncomfortable but he’s too busy cuddling you to sleep to notice.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who will put his foot down if he feels your staying up late is having negative effects. He’ll disallow caffeinated drinks and tie you to the bed at night but if you’re still unable to sleep then he’ll go straight to the sleeping pills to solve this issue, having zero patience to try any more methods which he feels will be unhelpful.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who loves the nights all energy escapes you (naturally, without the pills) and you are left practically passed out wherever you had decided to sit that evening, leaving you very pliable for cuddling without the rope or bindings in the way.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who feels pity for his Darling when the struggles of the day come crashing down a little too harshly, leaving you teary and unwelcome to the idea of moving from your chosen spot on the basement floor.

❥ Angry ! Yandere who either just scoops you up from the floor, depositing you on the bed and joining you for a cuddle-fest or joins you on the floor with some blankets and pillows, ready to get comfy where you are. He hopes to provide an ounce of the comfort you provide him by the hour just from being in your near-presence...

[masterwords]

it's here in the ashes

Summary: Sam Cooper was many things. He was an exemplary leader, an intuitive field agent, a brilliant mind. He was a calm presence amid a raging storm, someone who always knew what to say and when to say it...but more importantly, when to keep quiet. He was many things, but if you asked Hotch he’d probably just say that Sam Cooper was a great friend. This is just a snapshot of that friendship. (Coda to 5x01, my usual haunting ground)

Pairing: None (but you could say Hotch/Morgan...it's heavily implied but not explicitly said, basically just like canon)

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: religious (christian) overtones, church, stab wounds, medication, pain (post foyet stabbing y'know y'know)

Notes: I've wanted to write more about Hotch & Sam's friendship. Sam, if you don't remember, is from 5x18 - The Fight and the Unit Chief of the Red Cell team in the spinoff Suspect Behavior. I'll probably start a whole series dedicated to all these one-off characters that are so beloved to me so they're all in one place. Hotch needs friends, yo. And anyway, he's so cute with Cooper that I really need to explore more of that.

No one came to see him after he was released from the hospital.

The team were busy, they sent texts and more than once take-out meals so he didn’t have to cook, but no one came by. He knew it probably had a lot more to do with him than them. He could picture Garcia worrying herself sick over whether to pop by to check on him or bring him a plate of cookies, and he could picture Dave telling her to do what she thought was best. Well, that resulted in a lot of well meaning texts and nothing more.

He was fine with that, too. He didn’t particularly want company. Didn’t much feel like conversation, like being under the watchful eye, like being pitied.

Jessica was coming by, out of some strict (and utterly insane if you asked Hotch) sense of duty more than anything. She was angry at him for sure, angry and indignant but she helped him change his bandages and made sure he took his medications. “For Jack,” she muttered when he asked her one particularly bad night why she insisted on showing up every single day when he knew she didn’t want to be there. When he knew she had better things to do. Her neighbor was feeding her cat so she could clean up wounds on a man she could barely stand to look at. “Because he’s going to need a dad to come home to. Now swallow the damn pill and go to sleep.”

Her anger lasted about a week. She never had managed to focus on one thing for very long – her fire burned hot and fast. She’d picked him up from the hospital and brought him home, and for that whole week she was frustrated and short with him, asking him why he didn’t just call his mother or Sean to come and help because he was more or less incapable of just about every activity of daily living. He stubbornly maintained he could do it on his own, and for what it was worth, he did. Not well, and he definitely shouldn’t have been doing any of it, but he didn’t see as he had much choice in the matter. She knew it too, and that fact alone kept her coming back to check, afraid one day she’d show up and find him face down on the floor bleeding out. So, it was a week of burning anger and then slowly it melted into something not so hot. Not so sharp. She began sitting with him for an hour, turning on the TV or cleaning his bathroom, asking how he was feeling with more than just a clinical interest. Remembering that she did love him too, in spite of his rampant stupidity. In spite of his...well everything about him.

But he didn’t seem to make any real progress toward rejoining the living until Sam Cooper showed up on his doorstep.

“Hi,” he said, extending his hand to Jessica with the bright smile of someone who sleeps and eats and works out at regular, healthy intervals. Something foreign at the moment to both she and Hotch who had more or less become couch potatoes. She was eating enough for two (there were a lot of feelings to be stuffed into a bowl of cereal that quickly became two bowls at 10pm whens he couldn’t sleep), he wasn’t eating at all (meds and pain and stubborn refusal to do anything that resembled living). It wasn’t a great situation. “I’m Sam, a friend from work.”

“Sam Cooper,” she said with a tired smile. “I’ve heard stories. I’m Jessica.”

“Right. Ex-wife’s sister?”

“That’s the one. Do you need something from him? He’s asleep right now.”

Sam smiled again and shrugged. He carried himself with such a laid back swagger that she couldn’t help the way her own shoulders loosened in his presence. “Nah. I just wanted to check up on him. Thought I’d give it a week or so for him to be home before I came knocking. He can be a little skittish.”

“Oh, yeah, well...why don’t you come in? I’m sure he’d love to see you. Or anyone really that isn’t me barking at him.”

“Has he had many visitors?”

“Well counting you and me...two.”

Sam nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, fingers gently pulling at the prayer beads he kept around his wrist as he took in the apartment. He’d been here more than once, helped Hotch move a few boxes here and there. More to check up on him, support him through his time of need than actual help – he’d had movers do most of the heavy lifting. Ultimately the place didn’t look much different but it felt different. It felt wrong. He could see Foyet there by the washer, feel his presence as he got to know the intimate details of Hotch’s place while he was away...how long was he here? Did he leave anything behind?

The apartment smelled stale but clean, closed windows and bleach. There were banker boxes piled up where he supposed a china hutch or some nice piece of furniture might look better, and there were case files covering a table that was more for show than for eating. He thought about Jack, wondered if he might find some renegade legos stashed beneath the couch or a crayon on a bookshelf. He wondered if Foyet went into Jack’s room, if he dug through Hotch’s entire life while he was away.

“That’s about what I expected,” he said finally, as if coming out of a long trance.

“Really? I honestly thought that his team would be here all the time. The way he is about them, you know? That they’d be hanging around and getting him to work and…”

“I talked to Agent Morgan this morning before I made the decision to come by. He said he’s been texting with Hotch every day but he’s afraid of opening up too many lines of communication because Hotch needs to rest and heal, and his instinct is always to pour himself into work as quickly as possible.”

“So they’re protecting him from himself by not coming? Is that what they think they’re doing?” She couldn’t mask her disgust. He gave up his marriage for them and they couldn’t even bother stopping by to check on him.

“I said that’s what Morgan said. I don’t know about the rest of them, don’t really know ‘em. Morgan comes and works out in my gym every day. How is he?”

“Well. He’s lonely and grouchy. In a lot of pain and pretty angry about it.”

“How long have you been here?”

“All morning. I practically live here now.”

Sam continued his pass through inspection of Hotch’s place and frowned at the spot on the carpet that was covered by an out of place looking rug. Jessica wouldn’t look at it. “That’s where...I guess they couldn’t get the stain out…I brought a rug from my place. I know it’s stupid, putting that there. It’s a bath mat, it looks silly it’s just…they said it would be a couple of weeks before they could get someone out to replace that spot with new carpet.”

“You should go, take some time to yourself. Have some lunch, a nap, something. I’ll handle him when he wakes up.”

She scrunched her nose and he had the distinct impression that she’d known Hotch a long time, a very long time, and through her aloof exterior she cared very much and maybe didn’t want to leave. She was protective of him, that was for sure.

“If you want,” he followed it up with a cautious smile. “I only want to help.”

That made her features soften into a halfway smile. “I could use a shower.”

Sam busied himself by putting away all of Hotch’s case files, clearing off his table. It was a task Jessica had mentioned wanting to do but not knowing where to start. “I think he just leaves them there because they make him feel something. He doesn’t do anything with them. I covered a few up because the pictures were…” she shook her head in disbelief. “I covered them up. That probably makes me a terrible person.”

“You said they’re going to be a couple of weeks on the carpet replacement?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t let him come out here and see that every day. And I know it sounds stupid because they cleaned it really well but if I can see it...I feel like I can smell it.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid. I can smell it. I’m going to make some calls, we can get that taken care of.”

“They said that it got into the sub floor and all of the padding, the whole thing has to be replaced. He was there...it was…”

“I understand. I’ll take care of it.”

Sam’s presence was calming to her, and when she finally slung her purse over her shoulder and left she felt almost at peace for the first time in a week. (Had it only been a week since he’d been home from the hospital? It felt like a century, and maybe it was when you measured it in calculated breaths and medication timers and bandage changes.)

By the time Hotch was shuffling down the hallway with all the grace of a starved zombie, not the 28 Days Later kind but the long suffering Romero zombies, Sam had tidied up all of the files and moved himself on to perusing the bookshelves until he found something that was just dull enough to stare at until his friend woke. He didn’t want to get engaged in anything, he wanted something easily cast aside. Something that would hold his attention with only the lightest grip. Hotch’s book collection had plenty to offer in that regard.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Sam said with an easy smile, setting the book open-faced on his thigh. Hotch stared at him, unblinking, sleepy-eyed, pale and worn like an old bed sheet hung out to dry. He’d seen Hotch in plenty of bad situations but he’d never seen him so listless, so drained. So empty.

“Where’s Jessica?” he croaked in a voice that hadn’t been used for much more than moaning or complaining in the last few days. Jessica said he didn’t string many words together, one or two was about the limit of his conversational skills – everything else was more or less a series of whines, whimpers or grunts.

“She needed a shower. I stopped by at the perfect time I guess.”

Hotch grunted his disapproval at being blindsided by a change in caretaker and resumed his shuffle toward the kitchen. Sam watched with some intrigue, wondering how capable he was of whatever he had set out to do. He knew damn well Hotch wasn’t going to ask him to help, and truthfully he thought it was probably better if Hotch did things for himself. He suspected that Jessica was doing more than necessary, either out of fear or guilt or love it didn’t matter.

It was a glass of water he was after, and he managed after a full minute of trying to figure out the best way to raise his arm (one side was easier than the other, it turned out) and then it looked like he was going to be sick after the first drink but he continued anyway. Sam watched with interest while Hotch seemed to forget he was there momentarily, hunching over at the sink, resting one hand against the ledge and dropping his head. Sam thought about stepping in, about asking if he could do anything to help, but he knew Hotch well enough to see the folly in that idea. He let Hotch come to him, instead. Slowly he made his way through the kitchen, eyes dragging with suspicion over his newly cleaned table. He didn’t like it. Sam didn’t care.

“Did you do this?” he asked, reaching out with one unsteady hand to grab hold of the back of a chair. It was as far as he could go, and he fell heavily into the seat with a barely contained groan.

“Looks like it smarts,” Sam said, ignoring Hotch’s question. He knew the answer anyway. When Hotch didn’t acknowledge his comment, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and looked at him earnestly. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, and I’d rather not have to say it but I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I know.”

“So you pushin’ everyone away who wants to help?”

“They have better things to do. Agent Reid is also out, they’re short staffed.”

“We’re pickin’ up the slack. I’m working with Rossi and Morgan to divert your case load. We got it.”

Hotch nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. I’m hoping to return within the month.”

At that, Sam laughed. Hotch didn’t find it amusing. “What?”

“A month?! Hotch. Come on. I saw the pictures and the hospital chart – now, now, don’t get your feathers all ruffled, Rossi asked me to take the lead on your case. He didn’t want anyone from the team doing it, and he was adamant that an outsider shouldn’t do it. I guess you could call this a professional visit…”

“Yeah?”

“Well. In a matter of speaking.”

At that Hotch smiled. Sort of. It was just a little twitch at the corner of his mouth but it was something, probably more than he’d done in a while. It looked unnatural and stiff. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got something I need you to do with me. You up for a walk?”

“Do I look up for a walk?”

“You look like a ghost. You can’t haunt this place forever. You need some good old fashioned vitamin D...come on. Three blocks.”

Hotch knew where they were going, and he wanted to protest. Not for any real reason in particular, he’d been thinking of going himself. He loved it for the same reason Cooper did – it was peaceful there. Quiet. He could sit and hear himself think without the echoes and ghosts in his apartment, or he could sit and do nothing but stare up into the light refracted through brilliantly colored stained glass windows and marvel at the way that made him feel.

Small, it made him feel small. That’s what he’d tell Sam, if asked. And no, that wasn’t bad. In fact, as the world swirled around him, as his team texted him and people whose names he barely knew delivered flowers and baskets of well-wishes and foods he wouldn’t or couldn’t eat (but his neighbors would, and Jessica would) all he wanted was to feel small and insignificant again. Foyet had robbed him of many things, and right now if he could just feel small he might be able to see his way into the next day and the day after.

“You know where I’m taking you,” Cooper said, affecting a slow pace. Much slower than his usual clip, and still it wasn’t really slow enough for Hotch’s sluggish body. His bones were heavy, poured with concrete. He wasn’t really walking so much as dragging himself down the sidewalk. It was a strange lumbering walk, no real grace to it, stiff hipped and hunched at the shoulders. “You know exactly where we’re going.”

“I do,” Hotch replied, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket to hide their tremble. They shook a lot lately, maybe medication side effects, maybe nerve damage, maybe just that he was scared and hungry and sick all the time. The reason mattered very little to him anymore. It just was.

“Have you been already?”

“No.”

Cooper hummed and slowed his pace one click more, a welcome reprieve. Hotch slowed to match and took a deep breath.

Three blocks, only three blocks, but Cooper stopped and took a seat on a bench beside the bus stop a little over a block into the walk and Hotch followed. They didn’t speak while they sat, just stared across the street and watched the little coffee shop ebb and flow with the day’s patrons. Children being dragged in by their parents while they prattled about something that was very important to them and of little import to the parents on a mission for caffeine. A couple holding hands. A group of school aged girls. Some of Hotch’s neighbors, elderly couples that had formed a sort of walking group in the last few months. He’d joined them once or twice after being badgered relentlessly at the mailboxes for being a shut in. The problem, he told them, was that he spent so little time in his home that he desired the luxury of being a shut in. Still, he did need coffee so he reluctantly agreed.

After a few minutes, Cooper looked at Hotch expectantly and stood.

They made it to the church without saying another word, and Hotch stopped at the base of the steps and turned his whole face toward the sky. He stared at the steeple as it rose into the clouds, touched the heavens. He sucked in one quick breath and grabbed the railing before hoisting himself up one step at a time like he was climbing Mount Everest.

The last time he’d come, it was Easter. He had Jack’s little hand in his, it was his holiday weekend and they didn’t have a case. It wasn’t his first choice of holidays to have his son, but Haley wanted Thanksgiving and Christmas and since those are family holidays and Hotch didn’t care for spending much time in the company of his own, he’d taken Halloween and Easter. Well, that had been almost half a year before and he’d walked by these steps plenty of times and thought about coming in but he never did. There was plenty of guilt associated with that, just add it to the pile of guilt he lived with over everything else in his life.

It was creeping up on October now, and he knew in his heart that he wouldn’t get to have Halloween with his son. He might never get another holiday again – did he appreciate Easter for what it was? Maybe the last? He didn’t think so.

“Need some help?” Cooper asked when Hotch was halfway up. He shook his head and set his features with determination.

“I’ve got it.”

“Good.”

Hotch would have been content to sit in the back pew and stare silently forward, he had the best view of everything from there but Sam moved toward the front and he followed. This was Cooper’s adventure, after all. He’d done nothing but wake up and go to sleep, exist in a medicated half-life for a week now and if this was the way to regain his life...well he was willing to try it.

“It’s peaceful,” Sam said sitting down. Hotch took the seat beside him, close but not too close. Sam scooted closer to him, until their shoulders touched and he leaned himself back casually. Like this was his sofa at home and they were all set to watch the football game. “You made it.”

“Did you doubt me?”

Sam smiled. “I did, actually. You look like a man who hasn’t walked more than twenty steps in a week.”

“I am. I guess it’s like riding a bike.” He found that the smile he offered Sam wasn’t forced this time, and that lightened the tight feeling in his chest some. It was amazing the power some people held. That just Sam’s presence and faith in him, in his ability to still be the same man he was a week ago, would almost make him believe it too. Sam had always had that effect on him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His answer was always yes, but he hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Sure.”

“Did they ask you if you wanted to head up a Red Cell? Before they gave it to me? You were the natural choice.”

That wasn’t the question Hotch had imagined he would ask, but now it made sense. He was thinking about Foyet, about how all of this transpired and wondering if Hotch had any regrets about being so visible. About heading up the A team when he could have gone under the radar.

“They did.”

“And you said no?”

“I did.”

Sam leaned forward, fingering the prayer beads now dangling from his hands. Hotch watched in a sort of trance, the way his thumbs moved over the beads was rhythmic and enthralling. Hypnotic.

“Why? You like the red tape or what?”

He was in a church, and as such, he felt compelled not to let a lie dance on his tongue. Not to entertain those types of thoughts. Sam deserved his honesty. “I need rules. I need the red tape, even if I mean to fight against it sometimes. I need checks and balances. Sometimes I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t have them.”

Sam could respect that answer, but then, he found it wasn’t hard to respect most of the things Hotch said or did. He needed rules because he feared his own darkness, and knowing what he did about Hotch’s past it made sense to him. Still, knowing Hotch as well as he did, he expected that he’d do just fine without the red tape...he didn’t trust himself, but he should.

“Do you regret it?”

“You mean do I regret it now that I’ve been victimized by the very thing I just said I needed?” That had been on Hotch’s mind. The rules. Arrest Foyet for what he did, make it right. Do what Shaugnessey didn’t, you hunt him and you catch him. But then...how long did that last? And was playing by those rules just playing into Foyet’s hand? This cycle was endless and it was killing him slowly, seeping from him what little sleep his exhausted body would allow him. And now he waited to see if Foyet killed again, and worse, who it was if he did. He was watching, Hotch knew that much. So was the FBI, he knew that too. There was a car parked on his block 24/7 with some poor low level Agent sent on an endless mission to stare at his apartment building as if Foyet would come back there. And were he and Cooper followed down here to the church? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe Cooper cleared this whole adventure before even showing up.

“Not exactly, but sure. That’s where your mind went, I’d love to follow that rabbit down the hole. Assume I mean it that way. Do you regret it?”

“I hadn’t really considered it. Truth be told, I haven’t thought about much except that night.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sam laughed. He did so with his whole body. “Fair enough. Morgan said you weren’t talking to anyone about it. But you know, you will have to talk to me about some of it...at some point. I am the official Case Agent.”

“How much have you spoken with Morgan?”

“Everything I just said and that’s what you take from it? Are you jealous?”

Hotch frowned, not sure how to answer that. Especially in a church with a man holding prayer beads. He trusted Sam Cooper implicitly, but his stomach lurched painfully.

“I’m teasing,” Sam said, as if Hotch didn’t catch that part. “He comes by my office every day. He’s struggling, Hotch.”

“Comes by your office for what?”

Sam definitely detected a hint of something in Hotch’s voice that sounded like jealousy. Not the kind that holds hands with suspicion or anger, just the kind that makes bedroom eyes at hope and despair.

“He’s coming to work out. To blow off steam. I’ve been training him in Kali, if you must know. He needs an outlet.”

Hotch smiled at that. “Better him than me.”

“You’re next.”

“I’m not cleared for strenuous activity or lifting more than 5lbs for at least the next three weeks...sorry.”

“I’ll mark it on my calendar. You need to double down on your hand to hand training.”

That didn’t sit well with Hotch and Sam could tell he’d crossed a line, if only unintentionally. He hadn’t lost the battle with Foyet because he couldn’t fight hand to hand, Foyet had the element of surprise and a gunshot that deafened and disoriented him. He had it all planned out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you could have done anything to prevent what happened. The man was in your home waiting for you, there was nothing more you could have done than what you did. You stayed alive.”

A woman’s voice echoed from somewhere above them, and then a man’s voice followed. Nothing more than sound waves bouncing off of statues and stained glass, not real words, but Hotch’s attention was drawn to the origin of the sound and he felt the hot sting of tears welling up in his eyes. Sam placed one hand on Hotch’s shoulder and the prayer beads fell against his chest, making a small wooden rattling sound that he felt deep in his bones.

“You stayed alive, Aaron. Maybe that’s why I brought you here. I nearly lost a friend, and I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t.”

“Why?” Hotch rasped around the thick feeling of emotion choking him. Why did Foyet want to keep him alive? Why had Foyet chosen him? There were no answers he could find in any of those files. Nothing he could use to make sense of what happened – what Foyet did to him, the parts that were in the file and the parts that wouldn’t be. The parts he remembered and the parts he didn’t.

“That information is above my pay grade, I’m afraid.”

“Has Strauss said anything to you?”

“You know she doesn’t want anything to do with me, not since the Director said my team reports directly to him. She felt slighted and I don’t blame her but I sure am glad. She asked me to help your team out. That’s about where it ended.”

“I think she’s hoping I won’t return. That I won’t pass a physical.”

Sam hummed and stood, beckoning for Hotch to follow him back out into the sunlight. “You’ll pass. I’ll make sure of it. I just need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Call Morgan.”

Hotch looked at the stairs and grunted, reaching out for the railing. It was hot, the sun had baked it in the time they were inside and it burned against his palm as his fingers curled around it.

“For what?”

“Check up on him. Ask him how things are going. Ask him to meet you for dinner at that restaurant you both like, the little pho place across town.”

“I’m not cleared to drive.” It was a pitiful excuse, weak and lacking all feeling. He would drive if he had to.

Sam took Hotch’s arm and helped him down the long bank of stairs, much harder to maneuver down when he was tired than it had been to get up. His legs felt like jelly and more than once he nearly tripped.

“Then invite him to your place for dinner. Surely you can order a pizza. Or are you just opposed to seeing him?”

“I’m not...opposed...I’m just…”

Sam stopped and turned Hotch toward him. Anyone looking from the street might get the wrong idea. It would be easily read as a moment from a Hallmark romance.

“You need him, and he needs you. If you think that his opinion of you has somehow changed because of what happened, I’d say you’re not giving him enough credit.”

Hotch didn’t have a response to that, but the look on Sam’s face and the way he continued to lead him down the stairs and back to the apartment told Hotch it wasn’t necessary. It was food for thought, not a set up for an argument. His beads were in his pocket now, the outline could be seen against the denim, and Hotch noticed that Sam checked his watch. It was the third or fourth time he’d done that since they sat in the pews. He’d noted it as odd, but his mind was too hazy to focus for any length of time on small details like that. Now he was suspicious.

“Are you late for something?” Hotch asked, staring ahead at his building as it loomed. Grew closer, larger, the thought of his couch and his bed growing in strength. His legs burned like he’d run a marathon. It was amazing how quickly physical status changed, how fast he could go from peak performance to broken.

“Right on schedule,” he said, slowing his pace a little and smiling. Hotch didn’t trust it. Something was happening. Something outside of his control, just like everything else lately.

Sam held the door of the building open to him, and Hotch entered with some apprehension. Something was waiting for him and he didn’t know what but he didn’t enjoy surprises. And Sam knew that. It didn’t seem to matter.

The door wasn’t locked. Hotch frowned. He knew he’d locked it on the way out.

“Trust me,” Sam said, nudging the door open. Hotch just stared at him, wondering what was going on and not liking anything his mind came up with. “I asked Jessica to come back to let a friend in. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry. His apartment was broken into just a short time ago, a blink of an eye, and Sam says don’t worry. Hotch found he had a few issues with that statement, but Sam smiled at him and he had no choice but to try.

It was Derek, Hotch knew it right away. Before he saw him. The minute he stepped into the doorway he could smell Derek’s cologne.

Derek was in his apartment, on his hands and knees, smoothing out the last of a piece of carpet with a seam roller. The stained piece was lying nearby along with the discarded pad, the last real physical reminder of what happened that could be removed and replaced. The rest Hotch would carry with him forever as a part of him, there was no seam roller that could smooth the edges of Foyet’s masterpiece. Hotch stopped short and found it hard to breathe at the sight. Sam just nudged him inside so he could shut the door before helping him to the couch. It was clear that the day’s outing had exhausted him, a sad thing to witness in a man who was previously fit enough to give just about anyone a run for their money. One night, one man’s evil and it was all undone. For how long, Sam didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. One minute Hotch seemed motivated to bounce back and the next he seemed too far gone. Still, he had faith.

And that faith started here, with Derek. That’s all Sam knew for certain. These two, they’d always been tied together. Hotch was Hotch and Derek was Derek, but when they were together they were unstoppable. Derek would make Hotch want to come back, that was the simple truth.

“I ordered you a pizza, it’ll be here in twenty minutes. Let me take that to the dumpster on my way out.” Sam indicated the stained carpet remnants eagerly. Derek balked but eventually decided to hand it to him, brushing his hands on the thighs of his paint stained jeans when it was out of his hands. Like he was wiping Hotch’s blood from his palms. “Hope you like Vito’s.”

“Rossi would kill you for ordering from them.”

Sam laughed and nodded. “I suppose that’s true. He can come by my office if he has a problem with my pizza choices. He knows where to find me.” Slowly, Sam turned to look at Hotch who was solemn on the couch. Trying to reawaken himself or settle himself, it was hard to tell. “You too. Three weeks, it’s on my calendar.”

“How’s it look?” Derek asked, the first thing he’d said to Hotch since they showed. He was looking pointedly at Hotch, and in that moment Sam decided to slip out silently. Hotch noticed but turned to look at the carpet, knowing Sam would rather not have any fuss about him leaving. His work was done, but they both knew he’d be back. Probably a lot. He was the Case Agent, after all. Hotch’s return to duty was securely in his hands.

“It looks…” he said quietly, searching for the word. He didn’t have one. Maybe one didn’t exist. Was there a word in the English language (or any really) that said what he felt looking at that spot and knowing what had happened there but not having to see it anymore? “Thank you.”

Derek grinned and nodded, beginning to pick up the tools he’d set all around his workspace. They hit the old metal toolbox, the top engraved with the initials HM, with a crash. Metal on metal as he tossed them into place – he’d organize it all later. Right now, he had to clean up. They had pizza coming, and he was about three days overdue for sleep, but he was here in Hotch’s apartment and that was exactly where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be.

“I’ll take it.” He kicked the toolbox out of the way and admired his work for a moment before letting out a contented little sigh. “I’m gonna go hop in the shower. I’ll be out before the pizza gets here.”

“Derek?” Hotch whispered, clamping his hands over his knees. He made eye contact with Derek and held it earnestly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. There was pizza involved and I didn’t have to cook or buy. Easy decision.” He paused after grabbing his go bag, filled with something clean to wear and toiletries, and smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

[analiavs]

Do you remember Harperverse: The Last Straw?

I rewrote basically the whole thing after Whitney ruined my playthrough at the maths competition that I managed to win.

But I kept the original dick pills scene. I found it today looking for some stuff. I figured I might as well post it. No Kylar but PC gets to have fun with him.

words: <500

He locked the door behind him and took the bottle out with shaking hands. He took a few deep breaths to ground himself. He read the label carefully, making sure there wouldn’t be any serious side effects. Only something called catastrophic arrhythmia, so he would probably be fine. It couldn’t be that serious if he’d never heard of it. He was fiddling with the bottle cap trying to get it open, when he was tackled from behind. 

His head banged into one of the lockers and he heard the pill bottle rolling around on the ground. He gripped his head and tried to get his bearings back. When he could finally see straight he saw his slut reading the pill bottle. She read it aloud. 

“Maxziphallia? Triple your size in 2 days? Results guaranteed?” She laughed. She stared into his eyes, giving a smile with too many teeth. 

“Build a dick pills? You got this shit off Harper?” She sounded amused and incredulous at the same time, but something in her eyes made him freeze. She stepped forward pressing him against the locker and maintained eye contact even as she looked up at him. She brought her voice down to a scary whisper.

“I didn’t think I gave you permission to take drugs.” He could hear the next swim class heading banging on the locker room door. But he could only focus on his slut. Despite being shorter than Kylar, she had managed to corner him. 

“Answer me babe, did I tell you to take pills for your dick?” He swallowed down the bile in his throat. 

“...No.” His voice was shakier than he’d expected. 

“Exactly. It’s perfect the way it is, you think I can’t feel it when you rub it against me. I love it!” She yanked him down with his shirt and kissed him. The kiss was a sort of revelation for him. His slut didn’t care about his size. And since when did he give a shit about the riff raff. His friends wanted to abandon him, fine. All he needed was her.  

+ + + acceptance + + +Arousal - - - dominance *love interest unlocked*

He reciprocated the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and picking her up. She didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs around his waist. She started grinding on him, her gym bloomers rising dangerously. Once he got his bearings he started humping back.

Right as things were really starting to get interesting, the locker room doors came open and Mason peaked in. 

“What the- hey you guys shouldn’t be in here! That’ll be detention.” They both cussed, pulling apart. She grabbed his hand and the two of them ran out of the locker room leaving the teacher yelling behind them.

[fandomcaseymix]

The Rising Star

Chapter One: Damn You, Alex!

Author's note: here's the first chapter! Finally I managed to finish it. I apologize if I may not be able to post the story very often. It takes a lot of effort to write and translate the text into English. Sorry for any mistakes!

Update: I decided to post it again with a ‘read more’ link for convenience.

Disclaimer: All names and events are fictitious, any coincidences with real people and events are accidental.

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I'm at the loss of words. It's just mind-boggling! How did I fall for such a vile provocation?!

Damn you, Alex!

He knew, that bastard, that I didn't have a very good relationship with Nata, my arrogant sister. Even though she's a stepsister, I don't get along with her at all. It especially infuriated me when she was set as an example to me. Every quarrel with my stepmother began with the words "Why don't you be like my little Nata?" At the beginning of our acquaintance, I silently listened to all those 'achievements’ that I should have, but later I got sick of it. As soon as I heard that disgusting, sugary ‘little Nata’, I just ran away from home. I was literally sick of this comparison with her. I don't want to brag but there's nothing to compare. Besides, these ‘achievements’ are somewhat dubious to me.

Damn you, Alex!

Who's Alex? My classmate who invited me to his birthday party. We were friends once, until he tried to hit on me in every possible way. Alas, he was destined to go to the friend zone. Afterwards, we quarreled over his... ‘attempt’ of suicide. He tried to poison himself with sleeping pills and alcohol, threatening me beforehand. After that, of course, he apologized and swore that he wouldn't do it again, and I bitterly forgave him. Then we didn't communicate much, at the "Hi! How are you?" level.

It would have stayed that way until the very day that divided my life into before and after came.

As I mentioned earlier, Alex invited me to his birthday party. It seems to have been in early August. It was an ordinary hot day, suitable for walking or outdoor activities in the backyard. I was the last to arrive by my car, as my shift was quite late at work. Working at a fast food restaurant was exhausting, so the party was a good option to relax. Grabbing a gift on the way, I went to the country house of Alex's parents, who left it for the celebration. When I got to the place indicated by the GPS, I parked my "Chinese friend" (blue Changan) in front of the gate and headed home with a gift-wrapped coffee package in my hands.

I pressed the bell and waited. Bitterness appeared in my mouth. Although we were not on very good terms after that incident, I considered it unacceptable to come without a gift or with something useless. I knew that Alex loves coffee, so I decided to buy some very high-quality and delicious sorts. I even added a couple of new ones for him to try. I hope Alex likes it. Otherwise, why am I trying to restore our friendship?

The click of the lock and the door handle brought me back to reality. The door swung open and a blond head peeked out. The blue eyes sparkled with joy when she saw me.

"Gerda!" Alex exclaimed.

"Hi, Alex," I smiled and rubbed my neck guiltily. "I hope I'm not too late for the party?"

"No, no, why, Gera!" my friend shook his head and motioned me inside. "Come on, come on, now will be the best part."

"Cool. Here you go," taking off my shoes, I handed the box with the bow to the birthday boy. "Happy Birthday, Alex."

"Thanks, Gerda," he replied, accepting the gift, and we awkwardly hugged.

"You're welcome."

He led me into a large living room where about ten people were sitting. Five guys and five girls. The company was diverse: there was a goth girl, a couple of hipsters and a geek. The others looked quite ordinary.

"Everyone, this is Gerda, my best friend since high school," Alexander introduced me.

The celebration continued. The company turned out to be very pleasant. We got along with geek from the first minute, having discovered several similar interests. Like me, he was also a devoted fan of Transformers and knew a lot about the characters in this long-running franchise. Alex even jokingly called us the Terror Twins. Of course, we laughed and decided among ourselves that I would be Sunstreaker and he would be Sideswipe, since I was more cynical than he was. I think his name was Mark. Good guy.

Almost everyone drank alcohol, the rest made do with juice or lemonade. I was among the latter ones, since I was driving. There were a couple of times when they tried to dare me, but, alas, alcohol tastes disgusting to me. I don't know why, but I can't drink, for example, beer with the same pleasure as most people do.

When it came to the games, everything began to slide into shit.

There was a game of "I've never..." The rules were simple: you had to continue the sentence with words about an action that, so to speak, he or she ‘have never done’. If someone performed the mentioned action sometime in the past, then he or she took a sip of his drink. I watched this game in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, suggesting it as entertainment.

Oh, Jesus Christ, if I'd known what this was going to lead to, I would never have suggested it. I wish I'd kept quiet then.

"I've never... been to the friend zone," said one of the hipsters, Max.

For a moment, I felt goosebumps run down my spine. Almost immediately I said to myself, what is it about Max's words? Surely many people have had moments when your crush doesn’t return the feeling. Just ordinary things that often happen in the daily life of each of us. It was just a fact, so I calmed myself down without giving away my emotions. However, remembering that, I could tell that it was the first red flag.

The second red flag was Alex himself. It was him who took a sip from his glass, which obviously contained alcohol. I was wary again, trying to convince myself that the story was about someone else. About anyone, but not about me.

"Wow, Alex, I didn't know," Mark drawled, smiling broadly.

Alex silently took another sip. My mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry. I have a bad feeling about this.

"It was back in school, in the tenth grade," he said, lowering his head. His voice suddenly became so cheeky that it became clear to everyone in the living room that he was drunk, and very drunk. Alex continued, "At that time I was friends with a girl I had been in love with for a long time... "

After drinking something obviously alcoholic from his glass again, Alex began to talk about that very case. Every second I tensed up more and more, and a powerful alarm bell rang in my head. The desperate hope that my school friend would talk about anything but this was immediately lost in agony.

No, no, no, NO! my subconscious screamed at me. Tell him to shut up! He shouldn't have said that! It's already in the past!

But Alex kept talking and talking, remembering that stupid incident. It was stupid because this jerk did a really dumb thing. What kind of genius would mix alcohol with sleeping pills and threaten his best friend with suicide? That day I was really scared that he might die! After all, Alex almost died of a fucking overdose back then! So why did he remember this particular story?!

I gritted my teeth and began to clench and unclench my fist that was free from the glass of lemonade. The feeling of nails digging into the flesh was a little sobering, preventing me from panicking. Yes, it's unpleasant to remember, but it's just a game, right?

Suddenly something clicked in my head. Just a game. Yeah. Right. Just a drinking game.

Holy shit, what have I done?..

When Alex finished his story, there was silence in the room. I nervously ran my eyes over other people's faces in the hope that someone would put in a word. Alas, everyone remained silent, staring at Alex with dumbfounded eyes.

"Damn it, Alex... It was... " Max began awkwardly, not knowing how to express his feelings.

"Stupid," I said, gritting my teeth. "Very, very stupid."

"Yes, that's right. It was very stupid, Alex," Max agreed and looked at me with a smile. "Thanks, Gerda."

"That's right, dude. It's not very cool to do that," Kate, the goth girl, said. "And what did she tell you after the incident?"

I couldn't stand it anymore.

"I said it was the dumbest thing one could do," I said, and took a sip of lemonade, already resigned to the outcome of this game.

"You? He talked about you?" Max was surprised.

"Alas, but yes," I sighed and looked at Alex with disapproval. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell that story, Alex."

Alex gulped down the entire contents of his glass and looked back at me. His gaze wandered, clearly trying to focus on me. His head, like his whole body, literally swayed like a pine tree in the wind.

The third red flag. Alex is drunk.

"You know, Gera, I just realized something," Alexander suddenly began and smiled wryly. It made me a little uneasy, but I tried to stay calm. He was obviously going to say something stupid or even funny.

I was wrong.

"It's not for nothing that you are constantly compared to Nata, " Alex glanced at the empty glass.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I took a deep breath and exhaled noisily through her nostrils. How it infuriated me when they told me that. In my school years, it easily drove me mad, but now that I'm 24 years old, I take it more or less calmly. I've often wondered what we're like. Yes, I admit, Nata studied better than me, participated in various competitions, even won some of them, but I was doing something else. I participated in martial arts sports competitions, which I prepared for without sparing my efforts and earned awards. Dad was happy for me, and my stepmother called me a wild kid. Something like "fighting is not for girls".

We are too different. And a comparison to make you change is a so-so way.

"Yeah?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "And why is that?"

"At least she has a mom," Alex finished his sentence.

CRASH!

I started violently, as if a pistol had been fired into my chest. It was the most painful scar in my life. To bring up my mother again in order to hurt me was despicable. No, even worse.

It was disgusting to the point of nausea.

I slowly got up from the chair in which I was sitting, and, bypassing the fragments of the broken glass, approached Alex. He didn't seem to notice my angry face, still smiling drunkenly. The others obviously tensed up when they saw how I approached my friend with the grace of a tigress.

"You know, Alex, I sincerely believed that you had improved," I began so calmly that it scared people. There was disappointment in my voice. "That we have long forgotten about that incident. Apparently, I tried to restore our friendship in vain."

I smiled sadly and slowly shook my head.

"I've had enough, Alex," I paused, clenching my fists and holding back bitter tears. "It's over between us."

Without waiting for an answer, I immediately ran out of the house, grabbing my jacket. Crossing the yard in a few quick and wide steps, I went outside, opened the car door and, getting behind the wheel, started the engine. The blue Changan purred softly, obeying me. I carefully turned around so as not to damage other people's fences, and drove away from the house. It was dark. It was already night, so I turned on the headlights.

When I was already driving through the city and stopped at a traffic light, I decided to check the time.

2 a.m. Damn it. We got carried away with it, that’s for sure.

Sighing, I continued driving on the navigator. I just wanted to cry until I passed out, but my conscience wouldn't let me break my car. After all, I spent a lot of money and effort to buy my beauty on wheels. I took more translation orders and extra shifts at the restaurant to save up enough money. it's beyond words to express how glad I was when I received this treasured bunch of keys. At one point, I even gave the car a name.

Lan Long. The Blue Dragon in Chinese. There was, of course, a variant of "Qing Long", but in this complex language, the word "qing" means a completely different color. So, I chose Lan Long.

My thoughts flowed smoothly to the memories of my mother. She died from a severe injury when someone tried to rob her. There were some other details, but it's painful to remember. Let's just say her body was abused. I was 13 years old at the time. Me and my father lived alone for about a year, until he met Alice and her daughter Nata. A very proud woman who tried to make me an excellent student, arguing that, I quote, "there are no children with B’s in my family". Yeah, yeah, good luck with that. Even when I graduated from university, our relationship was far from ideal.

When I got to the courtyard, I parked, turned on the alarm and entered the high-rise building. There was silence all around, except for the occasional buzzing of the elevator. I've been living with my dad while I'm saving up for a mortgage. This annoyed my stepmother very much, and, again, she compared me to Nata. Dad, of course, defended me, saying that it was enough to annoy me but Alice started talking over and over again about what an irresponsible lazy person I was.

Yeah, yeah, a lazy woman who works her ass off on two jobs to earn for her own apartment, sure, tell me about it.

Before I could take off my shoes and my jacket, the light in the hallway abruptly turned on. I immediately squeezed my eyes shut, grimacing at the sudden change in lighting. After waiting for my eyes to adjust to the light, I saw her. Alice. And she doesn't look very pleased.

"Why are you so late?" Alice immediately rebuked me, crossing her arms over her chest. Her long dark hair was loose, as if it had just been washed. Did she stay up all night to fight with me again? Ah, it doesn't matter. Her blue eyes narrowed angrily, clearly demanding an explanation.

Yeah, yeah, squint all you want. It won't scare me anymore.

"None of your business," I snapped, unbuckling the straps on my sandals.

"None of my business? How are you talking to me?!" the stepmother roared.

I rolled my eyes as I took off my jacket and put the keys in my own box. My set of apartment keys and car keys were usually there. I'm an adult now, so they're separate from everyone else.

"I'm talking the way I see fit," I snapped back.

"You weren't taught to respect your elders?!"

Fuck, I thought, rolling my eyes again. Here we go again...

It's the same thing every time...

"Age is not an argument in dispute," was my answer.

Alice's face was distorted with rage. The thing is, in arguments with her, I talked calmly, while she goes on shouting. A useful tactic, by the way. Such people shout at you in the hope of bringing you into conflict. When their screams don’t work, then, faced with a lack of reaction, they become even more furious.

Although, I must admit, I even like to look at this twisted face with anger.

"You... you little, ill-mannered..."Alice started to insult, as another voice rang out.

"What's all the noise?"

My sleepy father in pajamas and Nata in a nightgown appeared in the hallway. Hearing her husband's voice, Alice waved her arms in my direction.

"Your daughter was hell knows where and decided to come back just now!" She started complaining again.

"Gerda was at her friend's birthday party," my father replied calmly.

"And why don't I know about it?!" the stepmother roared again.

Oh God, is she really dumb?

"You should have listened," I reminded her rudely. "I told you before I left for work, but you chose not to answer me."

There was silence for a couple of seconds. All Alice did was make noises, obviously trying to answer something, and that only made her angrier. Dad just rubbed his eyes tiredly, and Nata looked down at the floor in embarrassment.

I blinked in surprise. Was I seeing things? Nata... is ashamed of her mother? Well, that was... unexpected.

"You're just an insufferable girl!" Alice found the words.

I raised my eyebrows, completely unimpressed by what I heard. So what? And I can't stand you.

"How did your mother handle you at all?!"

I flinched again, as if from a blow. It's there again. Damn. I could forgive everything. Forgive the nagging, forgive the comparison with Nata, forgive the complaints about me to my father, forgive literally everything. But I would never forgive mentioning my mother as a way to hurt or control me. And to forgive this nasty old witch is even more so.

"Mom!" Nata said reproachfully.

My father pursed his lips, he was also hurt by this. We were both hurt.

I put on my sneakers and slowly straightened up, clenching my fists. My amber eyes narrowed furiously, and my lip curled up, exposing my teeth. From the outside, I looked like a bristling tigress, ready to pounce on the enemy. It's usually hard to make me angry, but right now I was just furious.

"Don't. Touch. My. Mother," I growled, emphasizing every word in my voice. "I know how annoyed you are with my presence and disobedience, but don't worry..."

My voice turned snide and malicious.

"As soon as I save up enough money for a mortgage, I'll disappear from your life in a flash, you old hag," I grabbed my jacket from the hanger and went outside, slamming the door.

The sun had risen during our quarrel, but it was too early for the day. Stamping my feet furiously, I left the courtyard and quickly found myself in an alley with benches and trees. I wanted to tear and throw everything that came to my hands, but I just didn't have the strength to do it.

I blinked, and the first tears rolled down my face. I'm so sick of these quarrels and screams. All these ten years I've put up with her rotten character, just to make Dad happy. He didn't forget about Mom, which I was grateful for. We often spent time together talking about her. And I always wore a handmade silver griffin bracelet without taking it off. Over the years that I've worn it, of course, it has darkened a little, but it didn't bother me. It was a gift from my mom for my birthday.

"This is a griffin, a hybrid of an eagle and a lion," she said when she handed me this beautiful wide bracelet. "It represents the unity of heaven and earth. And it will be your protector, Gerda."

I chuckled. Yeah, my protector.

"Gerda!"

The smile immediately disappeared from my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Nata's running figure and, getting up from the bench, began to walk away. Anywhere but away from her.

"Gerda! Wait a minute!"

I didn't even turn around, I just kept walking. I don't want to see her at all. What does she want from me?

"Gerda, I want to talk to you!" Nata shouted.

I stopped. To talk? About what? That she's better than me? No, you don't have to. I've had enough.

"Gerda," I heard Nata's voice behind me. "I'm sorry about that..."

"Sorry for what?" I snapped, turning around. "That your mother dared to touch my mother, who, for your information, is dead? Ha! Like hell I'll forgive that!"

"But... She was worried about you..." Nata tried to convince me, but I was adamant.

"Really? Doesn't look like it," I growled. "All she does is compare me to you all the time!"

Nata looked down guiltily.

"I don't like it, too!" She shouted. "At first it was nice that Mom was proud of me, of my achievements, but now... I never thought she would compare me to you..."

"Well, surprise! You're the last one who didn't know about it!" I snapped, turning to leave.

"Gerda! Stop!"

"What?!"

I didn't have time to turn around to see what hit me. A car horn rang in my ears, and an unbearable pain shot through my whole body. It was like I was rewound in a meat grinder, and then abruptly spat out as unnecessary. I heard the screeching of tires, Nata’s screams, who asked to call an ambulance, the worried voices of the driver and passers-by. There was only emptiness in front of me and the only one thought in my head.

Damn you, Alex...

[kpopsickies]

Christmas sniffles

Yes, I still suck at writing titles =| 

I fully intended to post this on Christmas.... that obviously didn’t happen 

Merry Christmas and a happy new year

Sickie: Soul

Caretaker: P1Harmony 

Keeho p.o.v 

I don’t want to admit how much I had to beg our manager to let us get a Christmas tree for the dorms, but after what seemed like an eternity I was able to convince him to grant us permission, and in the end he let us get a Christmas tree. The day we had planned to go as a group to get the tree Soul and Jongseob had been called to the company for an emergency meeting. the two of them insisted that we could go and get the tree without them, but they asked us to wait to decorate until they got home.

Once the two maknaes got home we began unpacking the boxes of ornaments, I noticed pretty early on that Soul seemed a bit off, well even more so than usual. I asked him about it but he said he was fine, just worn out from the meeting. 

Soul p.o.v 

I couldn’t explain it, I had felt fine all day, but almost as soon as I got back to the dorm I started to feel off. My eyes were stinging and burning. I kinda suspected I was just tired. Keeho asked me if I was okay. I told him I was just tired. Which I myself believed, but only a few minutes later my nose was itching, and I felt like I needed to sneeze. I felt weird, I tapped Jiung on the shoulder because he was closest to me, “hyung?” he looked over at me, “Oh God, Soul are you okay?” I quickly placed my hand to my face, “what’s wrong?” 

“your face is puffy”

“my nose itches” I sniffled, “hhktcHu- hhktcHhu- hhektchuI” 

“bless you” I heard Keeho called from across the room, Jiung called Theo and Keeho over. They both came over, “Oh.. Soul are you okay?” Theo looked concerned, “I don’t know what’s w-wrh-hh- hhktchu- hhektchHhu- ektchHu- wrong with me” 

“Soul I think you’re having an allergic reaction” Jiung said, by this point the other members had come over. I felt a bit overwhelmed and embarrassed by all the attention. “I don’t k-hhKtChhu- hhKTChuu- hhektchu- know what’s w-hh- wrong.” I leaned away from the members and sneezed a few times. Keeho blessed me, “Soul, are you okay?” Jongseob sat down next to me, “You seemed fine at the meeting” I sniffled, “I felt fine.” I coughed, my throat was itchy. “Soul, I have a random question” Intak said, I looked at him, “have you ever had a Christmas tree before?” I noticed a look of understanding cross the other member’s faces, but I was confused, I shook my head, “Soul, I think you’re having an allergic reaction to the tree” I shrugged, “I don’t know” 

“It would make sense, like you felt fine until you got here.” I nodded, “Soul why don’t you go shower, in the meantime I think we’ll get rid of the tree” Keeho explained, I shrugged, “you don’t need to get rid of the tree” the others all almost instantly protested. “Soul you can’t keep this up until after Christmas. You’ll make yourself sick” Theo explained, “but-”

“Soul we can get a fake tree” Keeho explained, I nodded, my entire body felt itchy at this point. “Can I take something to help? I’m itchy” 

“sure thing kid” Keeho said, “I’ll get it” Jiung said, he had rhinitis so he was the self proclaimed allergy medicine expert. He came back a few minutes later with a cup of water and the pills, “take this and then go shower” I nodded and followed his instructions.

~20ish minutes later~

I came back downstairs and was surprised to see that the members had already gotten the tree out of the dorm, “hey Soul, you feeling better?” Jongseob asked, which brought attention to me and our hyungs looked over to us. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better, less itchy” I sniffled, “you guys worked fast” Intak laughed, “Keeho went full mom mode the second you left” I laughed, “I’m glad you’re feeling better”

“me too”

~The next few days the members looked on line and eventually found a fake tree on line. It was exciting for the members as the six of us bonded together decorating the tree Christmas eve, meanwhile we did a vlive, and P1ece questioned why the tree was fake, and the members just looked at me. I didn’t comment, instead choosing to continue to decorate, but as I did, I overdramatically fake sneezed as loud as i could, startling the members. I laughed, “that’s why the tree is fake” I laughed, the others rolled their eyes. 

[midnightprelude]

Senseless, Pt. 2

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Finally, three years later, I tested positive for COVID-19. Of course, I couldn't suffer alone, so @oftachancer humored me in inflicting the disease on Dorian so we could write Anders taking care of him (and falling in love). This is a 4-part fic which will post daily! You can follow the #senseless da fic to get updates. Written for @30daysofdorian!

I entered three separate rooms before I found the blasted kitchen. The man had two stoves. Two. Each one probably cost more than my car. And an entire walk-in refrigerator that was nearly empty. I could have fit my entire apartment in that kitchen, not even counting the fridge or the pantries. My little tub of Neapolitan seemed so lonely, sitting on its otherwise empty wide shelf. I stocked the groceries away, placing the various medicines I’d picked up in a line on the counter.

Something for the fever, the cough, the congestion. A veritable panoply of pharmaceuticals. I brought them back up with a large glass of water and a tablespoon, dragging a chair to Dorian’s bedside.

“How’s the patient?” I asked, as cheerfully as I could manage for two in the morning.

Dorian stared at me, bedraggled and somehow glamorous despite his red nose and the dark circles under his eyes. “My throat is staging a rebellion and the reading lamp is now officially too bright. How are you?”

“Tired,” I admitted, offering him pills and measuring out liquids. “But I’ll sleep after you do.”

“You’re welcome to the coffee. There’s a sealed container of a pleasant Antivan roast and a press.”

“Is this your way of asking for some?” I asked, tilting my head.

“It’s my way,” he paused to cough into a washcloth I’d given him earlier, “of offering you coffee.” He closed his eyes. “I’m quite capable of asking for what I want.” 

“Good. Yes. Alright.” I glanced down at my hands. “I might make myself some, then.” I glanced down at the test waiting on the nightstand. Well. There was an answer, at least. “You tested positive, I’m afraid. But that means we know what we’re dealing with.”

“I followed all the protocols,” he sniffed, accepting the spoonful of cough medicine with barely a grimace. “I haven’t seen anyone but delivery drivers since the start of this bloody thing. Delivery drivers and one student, but we masked- Damn it, Colette.” He took the pills I handed him and the cup of water. “I should call and see how she’s getting on.” He peered at the pills. “None of these are the drowsy-making ones, are they?”

“The cough syrup is,” I admitted, “but you need the rest. If you try and work through this, it’ll take you three times as long to get over it.”

“…not work?” Dorian looked up at me perplexed. “What, at all? The virus knows if I’m thinking?”

“You need sleep,” I insisted, lifting my brows. “Much of the body’s repair mechanisms are most active during sleep. You should try to keep from doing anything strenuous, mentally or physically, for at least a week.”

Dorian continued staring at me, as though the sheer force of his personality might change the facts or at least my opinion of them. “…surely some activity is healthy. What am I meant to do? Stare at my ceiling?”

“Watch movies. Do a puzzle. Read something light, if it doesn’t make your head hurt.” I frowned. “It will probably only last a week, Dorian. What’s a week to a lifetime of working?”

It was as though I’d told him he would be in traction for months: the sheer horror in his expression. “I can’t be alone doing nothing for days.”

“…you need to rest. Really. It’s crucial.” I lifted my brows, then sighed. “…I don’t have another shift until Tuesday. I’ll need to leave to feed my cats but- I can stay with you if you-“

“Excellent, yes, thank you.” Dorian swallowed the pills and handed the empty glass back to me. “That would be best.”

“You really don’t like being alone, do you?”

Dorian shuddered. “I can’t imagine anyone does. This whole experience has been abhorrent.”

It had been for me, too, but for entirely different reasons. I felt like I’d barely been alone for weeks. I’d been looking forward to my three days off. Maybe I could rescue my poor, neglected herb garden. I simply patted the man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s been hard on everyone.”

“Yes, of course it has. People put on brave faces; I don’t see why. It’s miserable being chopped off from the world without so much as a by your leave. I had appointments and events planned. There was a lovely little cruise to the Rivaini islands I’d been planning for months. Then some little beastie comes along and there's panic in the streets and silence. Silence, even when you play as much music as you can muster-” He broke off in a coughing fit. 

I rushed to the bathroom to fill his glass with water again. A pitcher. I should find a pitcher next time I ventured off into the maze. I placed the cool glass into his palm, handing him a tissue to dab at his lips. 

“You’re alright,” I murmured. “Maybe we should save the speeches for another time.”

Dorian nodded, grimacing, and cleared his throat into his fist. “I appreciate your presence,” his usually velvety voice scratched as he spoke. “…if you let me know what you need, I will… place the appropriate orders. Which- ah.” He rolled to the side, opening the drawer of the side table and returned with a crisp stack of cash. “There you are.”

“…should I ask why you have a bundle of money in your nightstand?” I stared at the bills, blinking. Maybe I should make more extracurricular house calls.

“One keeps these things around in case the need arises,” Dorian waved a hand wearily. “Was it more? I can forage.”

“…Dorian, I wasn’t planning on asking you for anything. The groceries were only about forty bucks.” This had to be at least five hundred dollars. “I really don’t need you to pay me for my time; I’m happy to play nurse for a little while-“

“Medicines and the like are quite expensive and I’ve been given to understand people are spending thousands for toilet paper. Take it. I’ll only use it as tissues.” He sighed, cuddling under his blanket. “Could you put another cloth on my head? That was nice.”

“Yeah. I can do that.” I sighed, shaking my head with a chuckle. Sweet, the way he hugged the pillows, his usually immaculate mustache grown in and smushed against the covers. I always tried to keep from having crushes on my patients, but I was only human. Mostly. In this way, at least. “I can even do a step better, if you’d like.”

“Oh yes?”

I nodded, wetting the wash cloth again. “Just scoot down a little bit so I can sit against the headboard. You can rest your head in my lap. Keep your tissues handy.”

Dorian opened his mouth and closed it, hummed slightly, and studied me. “That’s very generous. Although, I should warn you, if you don’t think that counts as a strenuous activity, I’m afraid you’ve been doing it wrong.”

I laughed, surprised, then rolled my eyes. “I was going to massage your sinuses.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that euphemism. I did have a lovely tutor teach me to ‘play the flute’ when I was in secondary school.”

I coughed. That seemed like something to unpack when Dorian wasn’t on six different medications. Or to never mention again. “Oh, yes. Snot. The sexiest of bodily fluids.”

Dorian sniffled, blinking blearily. “It was your suggestion.”

“I meant it in earnest.” I laughed again, unable to help myself. “To help with the congestion. The massage,” I added quickly, “not the euphemism.”

“Ah, well. One easily trips into hope. A massage is also appreciated.” He shifted down the bed and looked up expectantly. “I was wondering what the tissues were for.”

“Dorian?” I asked softly, placing a pillow on my lap and running my fingers through his hair. I knew enough not to expect he’d feel the same after his fever subsided. Sickness could make a three look like a ten. “Ask me again in a week, if you’re still interested?”

He sighed under my hands, his silver eyes peering up at me. “Ask you… what, precisely?”

“On a date. Or a different type of massage altogether.” I smiled slightly, rubbing circles against his temples. “I’ve got a policy against seeing my patients, but since you’re not technically that- When you’re feeling better, if you still want to see me, I’m not saying no forever, just for now.”

Dorian’s brow lifted, his lips curling. “You can’t say no; I haven’t asked you anything.” He dabbed his tongue to his lower lip. “You can ask me, if you like. You’ve already turned me down twice. A third would be too much for my fragile sensibilities.”

“…twice?”

“Hmm. Yes. At Hawke’s Disco Ball and Varric’s reading. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Insulted, but not surprised.”

“What, I-“ I stared at him, bewildered. Then frowned. “You were being- Oh.” Had what he’d taken for drunken jokes been- “You were talking about me?”

He chuckled, closing his eyes. “When I asked if you’d like to get a drink later? Did you imagine I was having a conversation with your shadow?”

“Excuse me, you didn’t use those exact words.” I lifted my brows. Something about how I’d intended to spend my evening? To which, like an idiot, I’d answered honestly: falling asleep to a tacky Wintersend movie with a bowl of ice cream. I had no idea he was even remotely interested in me. Why should he be? All he’d have to do is crook his finger and get anyone he wanted. “…I’m sorry,” I murmured, massaging the sides of his beautiful, beautiful face, feeling the heat rise in my own. “I didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t you?” He opened his eyes just enough that they were like mercurial crescents beneath dark thick lashes. “I’m rarely accused of being subtle.”

“Ah, well,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I’ve always been a bit of a slow learner.”

“Unlikely.” Dorian watched me drowsily. “If you had realized… would it have changed your answer?”

“If I’d realized you honestly wanted to take me out-“ I met his gaze, as solemn as he’d been when he’d announced his impending doom. “I’d have said yes. I will tell you, though: I don’t really drink alcohol anymore. There are better ways to my heart.”

“Are there?” he asked, yawning into the pillow. “Like what?”

“The fact that I was the person you called when you thought you were on your deathbed.” I hummed, massaging the bridge of his nose, handing him a tissue. “Blow.”

He did, sighing pitifully. “The only other doctor I know is miserable and went into hiding a few years ago.”

“I suppose you’ll need to make do with me, then.” I squeezed his shoulder gently. “How’s your breathing, now?”

“I feel like I swallowed very sour brandy. Very strong, sour brandy. Is that breathing?” Dorian grimaced. “I do dislike medicated drowsiness.”

“It’ll help you sleep through the coughing,” I said, by way of apology.

“You know best.”

“I do.” I watched the furrow in his brow ease over long minutes. “Sleep well, Dorian.”

[strangerqueerthings]

Dear Billy

A letter from Billy's mother. Whether it gets to him is unknown, but there are some things that need to be said.

Also on AO3

CW for abuse, implied sexual abuse, medication control

Dear Billy,

I don’t even know if this will reach you. The divorce lawyer promised he would get it to you when you turned eighteen, and Neil couldn’t hold it from you, but I don’t put much faith in men anymore. All I can do is hope that somehow, you get this letter, and that you will hopefully understand why I did what I did, and that it was all to protect us both.

I don’t want you to think less of me, or especially yourself, but you were an unexpected gift.

I hadn’t planned on having children. Not with Neil, at least. I was starting to see the harder side of him, starting to notice how he tried to tighten his grip on every aspect of my life. This included my birth control. I don’t know how he did it, to tell you the truth. There’s so many ways he could have done it- antibiotics in my food, grapefruit juice in my drink, replacing my pills with placebos. All I know is, despite taking my medication every day, I found myself pregnant with you.

I was terrified, but I was also delighted. I was terrified because I didn’t know what was in store for me. I was young- barely eighteen myself- and pregnant by a boyfriend who was starting to scare me.

I should have run. I should have left, should have had you on my own. It would have been hard, but we would have been safe. I didn’t, because I was young and scared, and Neil made me believe that I couldn’t survive on my own- I hadn’t even been able to manage my birth control, how could I take care of a child by myself?

That’s what he had me believing, anyway. I believed him. Believed I would end up losing you to the state, or that we’d live in squalor, and that you’d resent me for raising you without a father. So I married him, because I believed I had no other choice.

He was fine, almost normal, almost kind, until after you were born. It was hard. He expected me to resume all my wifely duties shortly after I took you home from the hospital. He berated me when I didn’t do the housework in a timely manner, yelled at me if I spent too long feeding you, screamed at me if I didn’t get you to stop crying.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I had Postpartum Depression. I hadn’t been allowed to recover on my own time, hadn’t been allowed to feed you long enough, or properly, and it all affected my hormones, and I was miserable.

I fought through it for you. I took the screaming, the yelling, and everything else I can’t put to paper. I was able to weather it, because I would look at your face, and it made the fight to survive worth it.

I was going to run away with you. I saw Neil raise a hand to you, and I’d had enough. I would let him hurt me, but not you. Not you, my son.

I don’t know what Neil told you about why I left, or who I left with, but I can imagine that he told you I was a whore, that I left for another man. I promise you, it was not the case.

The “other man,” Neil was so worried about was a friend who was trying to help me run away- with you. He’d been a friend since childhood, and he was helping me get a divorce lawyer, helping me save money, to plan our escape. He was helping me document all the instances of abuse, so I could keep the court from taking Neil’s side.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Neil forced my hand that night, and while you slept, Neil called the police on me, and said I was unstable. My post-partum depression was brought up, and a record of mental instability was established against me. When Neil added in the suspected infidelity, my lawyer told me that if Neil fought hard enough for custody, he’d win. He said that fighting would only keep Neil longer in my life, and expose you to all the things he had done to me, for I would be forced to talk about them.

I didn’t want you to have to be dragged through that, for the other children to know you had a broken home, or worse, that your mother was crazy.

I’d rather you resent me for leaving, than have the burden of knowing what Neil did to me, what he did to drive me away- because I didn’t want you to feel any sort of guilt over not being able to protect me, because that was not your job. It was mine, and I failed you in that.

I genuinely thought it would be better for you if I stayed out of your life until Neil was no longer able to intervene, to make things worse. He had made veiled threats when I first brought up visitation rights, and I couldn’t put you through that.

I am so sorry, my son. I am so sorry that I believed Neil’s lies, that I let him think I couldn’t raise you on my own. I am so sorry that I wasn’t able to be in your life.

I am not sorry, however, for having had you. You are the single best thing I have ever done in my life.

I will never forget your smile on the beach, how proud you were- and how proud I was- of that seven foot wave you effortlessly surfed on. I will never forget your messy hair and mumbly voice in the early morning when I got you out of bed for school. I will always remember the first time your tiny fingers wrapped around mine.

Your first word was Mama, and I will forever remember how you looked me in the eyes with delight as you said it, over and over, waving your little arms as you asked to be picked up.

You were always the best thing in my life, and I can only hope you don’t hate me, Billy. I loved you so much, and I still do. I just wish I knew what kind of person you are now. I wish I could have seen your graduation. I wish I could have embarrassed you with a million Polaroids of you and your date for prom. I wish I could have helped you apply for college.

I can only hope this letter finds you, and that in time, you and I can find one another again. I want so much to make everything up to you.

I want to be there for whenever you get married, if you do find love. I want to be there if you make or find a new family of your own. I want to support you through the harder moments, and celebrate your successes. Now that you’re eighteen, we have that option again, and I hope that we can try again.

Just know that I never stopped loving you, Billy. Know that you will always be my son, and even if you can’t forgive me, I will always have a place for you- both in my home and my heart.

I love you, Billy.

-Delilah.

[tanyatakaishi]

After years of not updating, I’ve completed the next scene in my Innocent Games sequel, Remember. Posting here while I finish the rest of the chapter. Feels good to really write again.

Their relationship was like walking on cloud nine through a minefield. It was never meant to last. One thing no one ever really tells you about divorce is that everyone's got an opinion. Especially when you're one of the digidestined.

Davis and Yolei deal with the end of their marriage.

Sneak Peak: Chapter 6

Cody’s apartment reminded Davis of a classroom. Orderly stacks of work, color coded post-its between book pages. Everything organized and ready to go.

And then there was the coffee table, littered with empty water bottles, cracker crumbs and a half-drunk cup of coffee. A mound of tissues had piled on the floor beside it, missing the trash-can that Davis still wasn’t sure he didn’t need. The muffled blare of a Japanese game show droned on the television, the picture blurred and fuzzy. 

Davis stared at the screen from his bed on the couch, unable to make out the obstacles that had the audience cringing with each failed attempt of the competitors. 

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he could see clearly. Some time before the bar, before he had left Digiworld even. It felt like life had morphed into a perpetual fog, dense and suffocating.

He closed his eyes and draped his arm over his face. “Is it possible for a hangover to last forever?”

“I don’t think so,” said Cody, who had been typing away at something at his desk for the better part of the day. Working, apparently.

Even with his eyes closed, Davis could feel his head throb. It churned his stomach and twisted his insides. He was sure his lungs were collapsing, clamping down on his heart. 

“What if…” He took in a long deep breath and still couldn’t get enough air. “What if your life was just one giant hangover?”

“I’d probably quit drinking.”

“But what if it never ended no matter what you did?”

“I’d see a doctor.”

“What if you hate doctors?”

“Joe’s a doctor.”

“What if you hate Joe?”

“This conversation went from hypothetical to nonsensical very quickly.”

“I feel like I’m dying.”

The sound of Cody’s computer closing made Davis force out a laugh, trying to make light of his own words, but it came out raw and tight, like the start of something more pathetic.

“When I was dying I couldn’t see,” he choked out. He took in a long ragged breath and felt a sharp pain in his tear ducts. “I can’t see.”

“I’m calling Joe.”

“But what if I hate him?”

“You don’t.”

Ken showed up while Cody was still on the phone.

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” Cody murmured as he opened the door and Davis soon felt the indentation of someone sitting beside him.

“Did you ever refill that prescription?” Ken asked.

With a dramatic groan, Davis flipped to his side so he could bury his face in the back of the couch. “I’m not crazy,” he choked out.

“No one said you were.”

“Joe says it’s safe for him to take 0.5 milligrams,” said Cody. “One if he needs more.”

“I brought mine,” said Ken.

“I’m dying,” gasped Davis. “I know what it feels like.”

“I know,” said Ken. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate it when you apologize.” Davis curled into a tight ball, back heaving. “Makes me feel worse.”

“Come on.” 

A hand hooked around his elbow, hoisting him up. Davis felt dizzy and nauseous and he wasn’t sure if he could take a pill even if he wanted to, worried whatever he put in his mouth would reappear on the floor.

Ken pressed it into his palm and only out of sheer desperation did Davis manage to keep it down.

It took a total of two pills and four game-shows before he felt even remotely like he wasn’t on the brink of death. The fog still didn’t clear, a glaze of dried tears sticky in his eyes, but he could at least see well enough to make out the girl who racked herself on the spinning pole she was supposed to grab and overshot. 

He let out a low snort of laughter.

“Feeling better?” asked Ken from the other side of the couch. 

“You’re still on my black list,” Davis grumbled.

“You went to see Animamon without me.”

With a grunt, Davis sunk further into the opposite armrest.

“What did he show you?”

Cheeks flushing at the memory, Davis muttered a very low, “fuck you.”

“I’m just—”

“This is his fault. This whole shitshow. I'm not supposed to be like this. We weren't—" Teeth curled over his bottom lip and it felt like he couldn't breathe all over again. "I don't want your help."

“Okay.” Ken stood from his seat on Cody’s couch and gave him a long, hard look. “You’re going to get through this, Davis.”

Davis shot him a patronizing thumbs up.

Cody saw Ken out and the two stood at the door for some time, talking in voices just low enough that Davis couldn’t make them out over the television’s screaming audience. 

After the door shut, Cody took Ken’s place on the couch. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

“Thanks.” Davis leaned forward, elbows to knees, hands wringing together between them. 

“I talked to Yolei a few days ago.”

His heart sunk, the slowness of the medicine keeping it from moving too fast. 

“I don’t think she wants this.”

Davis lifted his eyes to meet Cody's gaze, calm and honest. He gave a dark laugh. "What? Me being pathetic?"

"A divorce."

"No,  she definitely said she wanted that."

"Yolei says a lot of things when she's angry."

"No shit? I never knew."

The sarcasm didn't deflect him.  Cody stood, grabbing an armful of empty water bottles from the coffee table.  "She hasn't filed any paperwork."

"You're not a divorce lawyer."

"I'm technically not a lawyer at all yet," said Cody, "but I work with them.  Who do you think she'd ask for a referral?"

Davis stared at him as he continued to clean up after his mess.  "That doesn't mean anything, Cody. She just hasn't gotten around to it."

"We both know that when Yolei really wants to do something she won't stop until it's done."

"So, I guess that's supposed to make me feel better?" 

Cody dumped the bottles into the recycling bin and rinsed the coffee mug in the sink. "It’s supposed to remind you that it isn't over yet."

Davis flopped over, turning the couch into a bed again. "What if it should be?"

"Do you think it should?"

The fog came back with a vengeance, thick and rolling, and his throat went tight all over again. "I think she's happier without me."

Cody put away the freshly washed mug and made his way back to the living room, taking a seat in the wingback chair beside the couch. One leg crossed the other and his hands folded over his lap. 

“You look like a shrink,” muttered Davis. 

Cody unfolded his hands. “I actually considered double majoring in psychology.” 

Davis snorted. “Then all your clients would be our friends.” 

“Hopefully that won’t be the case when I finish law school.” A grin curled up the corner of his mouth.

“You have a dark sense of humor.”

“I’m pretty sure you told me I didn’t have any sense of humor once. Consider it character development.”

Davis let out a genuine laugh. “Cody, you are the best, you know that?”

“Ken and I were the ones who were with Yolei the most after you died,” he said bluntly, not bothering to break the ice. “She isn’t happier without you.”

“I don’t mean if I’m dead,” Davis said darkly. “That's sorta a given, isn't it?  I mean, I hope none of you were frickin’ somersaulting over it.” 

Cody frowned. “It was different.”

“How? She woulda been a wreck over any of you. And she was sick. Doesn’t mean I make her happy. Hell, Ken lost it after I croaked.” He paused, chuckling to himself. “Maybe that’s a bad example, I’d probably marry him if he asked. Yolei definitely would.”

“That right there is part of your problem.”

“What?”

Cody shook his head. “She chose you, Davis.”

“Because she thinks I died for her,” he said. “I mean I guess I did. I wasn’t really planning on dying though. That thing was going to crush her. But I would have done the same for any of you. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.”

“Because you love her.”

“I love all of you.” Davis closed his eyes, still unable to see through the fog. “She doesn’t think I do though. I remember her saying that before she threw her ring at me. You’d think she’d know better, after everything.”

There was a long pause and Davis tried not to dwell on his own words, but bits and pieces of their fights came bubbling to the surface of his memory, each awful word churning in his stomach with the remnants of the alcohol there.

“My father died in the line of duty saving someone,” Cody said after some time. “I still remember them, (probably more than I remember my dad). The whole family used to come by with food for us, flowers. Wrote to my mother once a year on the anniversary. And then one year, they just didn’t anymore. Lost touch.

“You’d think if someone died for you, that you’d live for that every day, that you’d know what your life cost. But the thing is, the days start flying by again, then the weeks, the months, years. You still have to eat, work, sleep. Sometimes you wake up, go about your day and just…forget.  Time makes things mundane."

“Great,” Davis groaned.

“If you want to remember, you have to make a conscious decision each day.” 

Davis laughed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Is this what I’m supposed to tell her? ‘Cause that’s not gonna go over well.”

“I’m telling it to you, Davis.”

He met Cody’s gaze, saw the way his green eyes had locked on him, expectant. “Wait, I thought we were talking about—”

“Every day," Cody said, voice firm and sure. "You have to decide to live for that every day.”

[kiunlo]

ended up getting a little bit of inspiration from one of my own posts as well as the tags of one of the reblogs and wrote a thing <3

trigger warning for um gore and blood and graphic depictions of batman's finger going missing from his body oops

Missing Pieces

There was no way of hiding it. No way to disguise it, and no way to pretend like it wasn't a big deal.

His finger was gone. Completely. Severed right at the base of his knuckle. All because of one of Riddler’s stupid traps that Bruce hadn’t even realised was there before it’d been too late.

Alfred was going to chew him out like nothing else. Bruce wondered if he’d ever be allowed to be Batman again. His kids would freak out. The media and social elites of Gotham would be in a frenzy because of their precious Brucie Wayne losing an entire finger. There was no way out of the stupid situation he’d gotten himself into without lying or making things worse.

And the worst part about it all? He wouldn’t even be able to get the finger reattached. The fucking trap had crushed his pinkie, making the remains of it almost pointless to get into a glass vial. It was all just flesh and blood and crushed bones. Bruce had thrown up a bit afterwards. It had not been a pretty sight. The mangled bits of flesh and bone had been hanging on by only a few pieces of skin which tugged on the rest of his hand painfully before he bit the bullet and excruciatingly cut the rest of it off with his batarang. It was not like the useless flesh had been doing anything for him at that point.

It had hurt. A lot. He never wanted to have to do that again.

He just hoped that when he got home, Alfred would take pity on him. Maybe he could bring out the puppy dog eyes he used to use when he was a kid. He wasn’t sure it would work on Alfred anymore, but he was willing to try it just this once. Certainly the circumstances called for it, right?

~🦇🦇🦇~

When Bruce had finally arrived back at the Batcave, and he’d taken his cowl off, he’d had a very guilty look on his face, mixed with a grimace due to the white-hot pain in his left hand. Alfred had been waiting for him, and while he would usually have an unimpressed or even unreadable look on his face whenever Bruce came back, it seemed his look of great pain had softened him a bit.

“Master Bruce, would you like to tell me what happened?”

“Um...”

Alfred sighed and walked towards him with a medical kit. “Alright then. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

Bruce said nothing as he sat down on one of the many gurneys inside the Batcave, clutching his hand to his stomach.

“I won’t be able to help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, Master Bruce.”

Bruce only managed a few words through his pain. “Hurts....my hand...blood...”

“Alright then. Let me see.” Alfred said, as he reached out and unfurled Bruce’s hand from being pressed up against his stomach. He gasped once he saw the damage.

“My god, boy! What on Earth happened?” He asked, as he quickly started taking Bruce’s glove off and assessing the damage.

“Crushed....Riddler trap...”

“If I see that wretched man in person I swear I’m going to-” Alfred didn’t finish his sentence. Bruce could only imagine what Alfred would to do to Nygma if they ever crossed paths.

Bruce started grunting and flinching as Alfred cleaned up the wound, and started stitching some of the skin together, before covering it in a bandage once he was done.

“You will be taking pain medication, and I will not be hearing any arguments about it. Am I understood?”

Bruce groaned in pain as he nodded.

“Good...”

It seemed like there was more Alfred wanted to say, but he left quickly to go get him some painkillers before coming back.

Bruce took two of the pills down with a bit of water Alfred had offered him.

“One of these days, my dear boy, you’re going to lose your life...and I won’t be able to stitch your soul back into your body.”

Bruce ducked his head at that. “I know, Alfred,” he said quietly.

Alfred just sighed and brought Bruce into an embrace. Bruce hugged him back as well as he could with an injured hand. “You worry me, sometimes.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a few minutes as Alfred ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair in a comforting manner. It wasn’t often they got time to just...allow themselves to be father and son for once.

It didn’t last long though. Some of his kids had to be aware that he was already home, and so it wasn’t surprising when Bruce heard Dick and Damian coming down the cave stairs.

“Um...is everything okay? No one died, right?” Dick asked.

“No, no one’s dead, Dick.” Bruce replied. Alfred gave him a look.

Okay. Well. Maybe he wasn’t dead but the same couldn’t be said for his pinky. Which was definitely dead flesh by now.

“Father, what happened to your hand?”

“Um..”

Alfred sighed again, and turned to clean up the mess of bandages, needles and suture.

“Father! Your finger is missing!”

“His finger is WHAT?”

Bruce sighed. He probably wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.

[yourflowersfirst]

day 1,431

okay, i'm gonna speak to you very candidly. i hope that's okay. i think conversation type writing is fun, and i'm in the mood for it. imagine this just two guys, getting dinner, chatting. well. i'm talking at you; you're half listening, half noticing the hot bartender in the corner, not noticing me so much. you steal a few of my fries. whatever. i'll take what i can get.

i've been a little sick all week. good enough to still do my assignments and go for runs and work, you know, manageable. today though, i woke up with a throat so agonizingly painful i could hardly swallow water (let alone those big ass dayquil pills). (but seriously, why are they so huge? it's hell for a sore throat.) something something big thing in my throat, there's a funny joke to be made there if you want. i don't care.

maybe i should stop going for runs when i'm feeling even a little sick. they probably don't help me, and my immune system is already ass as it stands. just to brag a bit though, i ran 6.5 miles earlier this week. i got my hair done the other day, but i've felt too sick to even wash it. do you know how heavenly washing your extensions is? i cum a little just thinking about the concept. but i can't, because i had to be a stupid fuck who got herself sick. washing all of my hair is not only a 2-3 hour long process, but wet hair like that makes illnesses worse for me. yeouch.

i'm sick of things, too. myself, mostly. i'm sick of feeling rotten and not good enough for anyone, anything, any man. my grades are still okay despite me being so bleh i can hardly focus on anything. it'll be a miracle if this post even makes sense. anyway, point is, no amount of male attention could fill the hatred i have for myself in my heart. i'm sick of that. if you know how to fix this carnal need i have to please everyone and give away all i am for someone else, hit me up. tell me what to do.

yesterday after my run (that definitely made my illness worse), i went to get chipotle, as i do. i'm addicted, seriously. as i was walking to the building, a guy driving past me in the parking lot and shouted "BALLS!" at me after rolling his window down. i shit myself laughing. much better than some male attention i've gotten, as you well know if you've read my other posts on this pretentious little blog.

i go back to ohio 8 days from now. if i still feel like garbage even then, i'm rioting, and then donating my organs to science. shit. my lips are chapped because drinking water, as i said, it really fucking hurts. it's 105 ish degrees here every day now, and i can't keep myself hydrated. i don't genuinely pray to god much anymore but i have been all day, reciting mantras to heal my body, mind, and soul.

i'm gonna get my period any day now too. just icing on top of the cake. here's how i know: the other day, before my sickness worsened, i went to hang with vincent (ex roommate) at his new place. i brought fuji so she and lupita could play; i also brought cane's for us to enjoy. jesus. cane's and chipotle in one post, no wonder i'm huge.

so, i went to hang with the fella. he put on dawn of the planet of the apes. i'd never seen any of those movies and there's a new one in theaters right now, so i figured, why the hell not? it'll be a silly time. the movie was shockingly serious. i was invested. (spoilers) when caesar got shot, i yelled, "no!"

"i know, very sad," vincent said while stuffing his face with crinkle cut fries.

i felt my eyes welling with tears. "he was a good leader, how could koba do that?"

"whoa, dude, are you good?"

"he's just... such a good dad... but he was shot! it isn't fair! he just wanted peace with the humans!"

vincent patted my shoulder, confused. "there, there."

i swatted him away, tears falling. i wiped them with a greasy hand. "don't make fun of me! it's so sad. oh god. i need napkins."

my hormones love to go batshit crazy the few days leading up to my period, rattling around my endocrine system like ping pong balls. today i was crying because i just hate being sick so much. go figure. i need to stock up on sanitary napkins (hardy har) and get my heated pad ready.

when i was on birth control, my PMS was manageable. i'd never get upset, never cried over stupid shit like dawn of the planet of the apes. now look at me. 2022 me would be horrified. in the end, though, i prefer this to the nasty side effects of tri-sprintec.

why am i rambling about my hormones and my period? sorry. i'm truly sorry. i just find it amusing in a certain light. i've been listening to "somebody else" by the 1975 a hell of a lot, and it's got me all nostalgic and weepy. really reiterates the fact that i'm a tiny bit unlovable, but hey, fuck that. get money.

i try not to dwell on "situationships" too much, but i can't help it. hot, late summer nights are the perfect time to wallow in your own self pity. i'd smoke a cigarette but i don't wanna make my throat worse. i say that, but cigarettes cause throat cancer. my priorities are truly in order, my friend.

i'm gonna try to go to bed and sleep this shit off. it feels like strep or a sinus infection. don't worry, i'm gonna see a doctor tomorrow, even though i'm cheap and hate paying people to tell me what's wrong with me. ironically enough, this is also why i can't keep a therapist, minus the one i had in high school for my eating disorder. i saw her a bunch last summer, which was cool, except i was seeing her for **** trauma and PTSD so bad i'd have panic attacks every day. good times. i've come a long way in a year. i can't really trust any other therapist except her. why, oh why, must she only do in person sessions in ohio?!

okay, i don't know how to end this one. i'll just share a poem i like, hehehehe. i'm biased toward it, because i'm a redhead, but hopefully you like it too.

"Ash, ash—

You poke and stir.

Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,   

A wedding ring,   

A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer   

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair   

And I eat men like air."

-Lady Lazarus, by Sylvia Plath

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #66

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily and sometimes written with the express intention of making myself cry. Please enjoy.

A shock, and I took a breath deeper and sharper than any I’d taken when I was alive - alive the first time, that is. I looked around myself, panicking, but all I could see were bright, overwhelming lights. I shut my eyes immediately. They burned.

Hands restrained me while others strapped me to the gurney. I wasn’t going anywhere. Nowhere was worth going anyway. They wheeled me into a room with a gray curtain and left without a word.

The lights here were dim enough to open my eyes. What time could it possibly be? Seven PM? Five AM? It was impossible to determine in this room with no window. There was nothing but the dim light of the hallway through the open door and that curtain.

“Hello?” I called out. “Is there anyone here?”

I wasn’t sure why I was asking - truth be told, I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to make a new friend. I wanted to leave.

There was no answer called back, not by the traditional means. But inside my head, I could hear it. I could hear a voice.

“There’s nothing over there.”

“What do you know?” I replied. “There must be something over there or there wouldn’t need to be a curtain.”

“Who says? Isn’t that a fallacy? Couldn’t a curtain be anywhere, in front of or behind anything?” The voice paused, as if to think. “Could be you’re on the other side of it right now.”

“It’s only the other side if there are two sides.”

“Touché.”

“Which suggests another side. A curtain needs a purpose just like a person does.”

“Not all are so lucky to get one.”

“Don’t I know it.” I struggled against my restraints. “Any idea of how to get out of here?”

“None more effective than the strategy you tried a few hours ago.”

I furrowed my brow, trying to remember. A bottle. Pills on the floor. Cold. Dark.

“They probably wouldn’t like me to try that again.”

“Will you?”

“I never much cared for people-pleasing.” I sniffled. My nose was running. “Got a tissue?”

“Afraid not.”

I wrestled with the straps on the gurney. As I pulled and pulled, I noted that the left wrist strap was just a little looser than the right. I wiggled my left hand, brought it in on itself and just barely managed to squeeze it through. My left arm was free.

“Ha-hah!” I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “No prison can contain me!”

I loosened the strap on my right arm and took my hand out of it, then removed the straps from my ankles and dropped my feet down to the floor.

“Don’t go.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“I know. Just… please. Don’t go.”

“I think I ought to know who you are before I start taking your advice.”

The voice got quiet. I saw a box of tissues on the counter and took one, blowing my nose quietly to avoid attracting attention. It struck me, suddenly, how dead silent this whole place was. I’d never seen a hospital quite like it.

I poked my head out the door. An empty hallway in both directions. No one was there. No one at all. The halls stretched out seemingly forever, just blinding light at the ends instead of corners. I could barely hear my own heartbeat, yet it was the loudest thing in the whole place.

I turned back. The curtain stretched fully across the room. The air wasn’t moving, so neither did it. All was still, all was quiet, all was cold. I walked up to it.

“Please don’t go.”

I frowned. “I can’t just stay here, can I? I have to go sometime! There’s nothing here for me!”

“I -” the voice hesitated. “But I’m here.”

“That’s not enough.”

The voice began to cry.

“Sorry… sorry, I didn’t mean that. Really. Can I just… Can I just take a peek? Can I just look, for a moment, beyond the curtain?”

“There’s nothing there for you.”

“There might be a window.”

“To jump out of it?”

“I just want to see what time it is. Where I am.”

“There is no window.”

“Then what is there?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve looked?”

The voice didn’t answer immediately, but paused for thought, carefully crafting its words.

“I can’t.”

“Well, I can. And I want to know.”

“Please don’t. Just stay here with me.”

“I can’t stay here forever. I’ll starve, or dehydrate, or - I don’t know, this place is fucking weird! Maybe I’ll suffocate! I want to see the sun again, or the moon! I want to feel a breeze on my face! I want to sit under a peach tree in the summer and take a bite of ripe fruit and let the juice splash onto my cheek. I want you there…” I felt tears coming from my eyes. “I want you there to wipe it off. Where are you?”

“I’m not under that tree. There aren’t any trees here.”

“You’re not here with me either. Where are you, really?”

“I can’t tell you if you don’t remember. Aren’t I a figment of your imagination?”

I reached out to the curtain and touched it. It was soft, velvety on my fingers. I bit my lip.

“Can I see you again if I stay?”

The voice sighed. “No. You never will.”

I rubbed my hand along the curtain’s seams. “I miss you, Aurora.”

“There’s no coming back.”

I closed my eyes, pushing out more tears, and threw back the curtain. It billowed around me and enclosed me. There really wasn’t anything here, only endless darkness. Only void beyond the curtain.

[thelostjournals]

Today I passed along the news of the tragedy

Today I passed along the news of the tragedy.

I have no way to call for aid - it would've been too late for that ship anyway - but I need to telegram any incidents to the Office. That's what they call them - incidents.

The water was very still when I pushed my boat into the water, the sea silent, its song a barely audible whisper, and I should have known by then that there will be fog in the afternoon.

But I was numb from the pain, the booze, and the knowledge that I'll have to row to the shore and back with my burned hand. Not the best place to interpret subtle weather signals. It took me over an hour to get to the shore and it was excruciating. I managed though, so I went to the office a bit weak in my knees, but proud of myself. I dictated the telegram to the boy that works there.

SINKING SHIP SEEN - STOP - ARGENT ROCKS LIGHTHOUSE - STOP - 10 LEAGUES NORTH NORTHWEST - STOP

I could see his eyes lighten as he realized that he was the first person to get the news. I bet he's one of the more popular people in town. And a terrible gossip. He'll probably lose the post soon.

I asked him where the doctor worked and for the way to a good fishing spot, I don't want to overuse the one on the island, and I can always use more fish, a true conundrum.

Thank god the doctor has to treat the light keepers for free. He gave me morphine pills for the pain and an ointment for the wound. Good man.

The fishing spot is near the pier, and I got my first catch very soon. It wasn't a fish. It was the empty crab carapace I threw away a few days ago. White and golden and laying in my hands, one healthy and one scorched, as I looked at it, startled.

I decided to take it with me this time.

I also decided I didn't feel like fishing anymore, so I left for the boat.

The fog rolled in when I was halfway between the shore and the island, and soon I could see neither.

Fear is a fast beast and it had me in its claws in a heartbeat. I needed a beacon, but I was a beacon, lost in the fog and helpless.

So I called her. I called her name as loud as I could, the first time as loud as I sang about swans, the second time as loud as I screamed at the sinking ship, and the third time even louder, as loud as I screamed when I pushed Madame down the stairs.

And then she showed. She shone. My silver spark on the shore.

I rowed as fast as I could, forgetting about the pain, and focused only on the light of my dead beloved. I pulled the boat onto the beach and ran to light the beacon, praying, as I am even now, that no one needed it but me, that no one died.

Now that it is lit I'm calmer but exhausted. My hand hurts, but I don't want to take the pill. Or to drink.

I only see ghosts when I'm sober, and Maria is here, watching me writing. She asks if I'll forgive her.

Now that I have the carapace, I might.

She cannot read, ghosts never can. Behind the regret of hurting me, there is anger in her eyes. I understand it. She's the one who taught me both reading and writing and now I can write down my innermost thoughts right under her nose and she'll never know them.

I think it is more than fair.

Maybe if I wasn't watching The Interview with a Vampire with my girlfriend, the Keeper's and Maria's relationship wouldn't be toxic. But we're watching it - savoring it, one episode per week (maaaybe two) - so here we are.

Today's longish entry was brought to you by sitting in my bathrobe and pajamas at 5 pm, recovering from asthma attack. On the one hand I hate my asthma, on the other hand I recommend spending Christmas afternoon in one's pajamas, writing for pleasure.

And as always, check out You Are a Beacon, the game I'm playing here. It's the 8th entry, and I already know I'm going to miss this game and this story when they're finished. https://radiantfracture.itch.io/you-are-a-beacon

[aturinfortheworse]

im also a little bit extremely angry about the assumption - by my family or doctors or the government or whatever - that my number one priority wrt to my health would be anything other than "feel as good as possible"

it feels almost transgressive to say like "actually, if working isn't going to contribute to my quality of life, I don't care about it" and "The only reason I would want to reduce my amount of medication is if it's impacting my quality of life."

my neurologist said in our first appt like "obviously we want you to be on as few medications as possible" and i did not succeed in mentioning that, actually, i will take 50 pills every day for the rest of my life if it means i get to feel okay most of the time.

like i don't even really care about being healthy. "being as healthy as possible" is not my #1 priority. my #1 priority is feeling good, followed closely by being able to do things i want to do. 'taking fewer pills' and 'exercising' don't even make the list. those are not ends, those are means.