#why isn’t there a way to take this off like you can with untagging yourself in photos on other socials

[rosemarygin]

My claim to fame (this isn’t me) (I didn’t make this fucking gif)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Machinist 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible bullying, misogyny, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your new boss sets his sights on you. (short!reader)

Characters: August Walker

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You take your lunch where you always do; outside. You don’t like to sit inside all day, especially after sweating amid sparks flying from dozens of torches and grinding wheels and the like. The metals walls do little to let the heat out, so it is that you greet the sunshine and fresh breeze with a sigh. 

You find your way to your truck and unlock the back, climbing up to sit in the open bed as you unzip your lunchbox. You have your standard fare; some carrots, hummus, and a tuna sandwich. Nothing fancy or special. Just what you have time to throw together in the morning. 

You watch the distant skyline as you chew. Insects buzz in the air and you swat away a nosy fly. The smell of pollen underlines the lingering scent of singed metal and your own sweat. You enjoy the small moment to yourself, with the barely muffled noise of drills, wheels, and hollers all around. 

You dip your last carrot and close up the container of hummus. You wipe the lingering garlicky smear from your fingertips and zip away your leftovers and the used napkin. You push your head back to stretch your neck and loosen the stitch between your shoulders. 

“You’re prettier in the sunlight,” the rocky voice brings your chin back down. 

August approaches as you clutch your lunch box against your lap. You don’t know how to respond without putting your job in the balance, so you don’t. You push yourself to the edge of the truck bed but he’s quick. He’s right in front of you, close enough that you can’t jump down. 

“This your truck?” He muses as he gives it an emphatic look, “not too bad. Bit big for you, girl. Ah, but maybe you like handling big things.” 

His insinuation repulses you. He was rude before but now he’s just being gross. Doesn’t matter. Who are you gonna tell? Who’s going to care?

“Excuse me, my lunch is almost over,” you say as you teeter on the edge. 

“I’m sure the boss won’t mind,” he grins boastfully. 

“Really, I got a lot of work--” 

“I never heard about your promotion,” he intones. 

You stop short and bite back your words, “promotion?” 

“Right, you must’ve got one since you’re telling me what to do,” he challenges, crossing his arms to make himself even bigger. 

“I wasn’t. I’m trying to go back to work.” 

“I didn’t dismiss you,” he sneers. 

You ease back and nod. This isn’t the first time a man’s postured at you, it won’t be the last. You’ll let him get his rocks off. 

“Sure,” you nod. 

“Hmph,” he looks you up and down, “it always makes me wonder why women wander into metal shops. Really? You like being sweaty,” he steps even closer and you wince as he reaches and drags his thumb down your cheek, “dirty? I can think of better ways for that.” 

“Sir,” you say flatly. 

He trails his thumb down and presses on your bottom lip, “I’m new around here. Need someone to show me around. How about it?” 

You scowl and rip your mouth away from his hand, “you can’t be serious?” 

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?” He slowly pulls his arm back, crossing it once more across his chest, “what I know about this town is there’s no other fucking shop looking for tool and die, and let me tell you, princess, you’ll find they don’t pay pennies next to what I pay.” He brings a hand up to brush the short stubble darkening his jaw, “actually, we’re due for salary review. That’s what the finance officer tells me.” 

You understand his threat. Even if he doesn’t fire you, he can mess with your money. All the leering men, all their nasty words, wouldn’t be worth it if you didn’t get a half-decent cut. 

“Can your precious little head understand me?” His mouth slants in a half-smirk. 

“Not that difficult,” you hiss out.  

“Great, sounds like a plan, princess.” 

Before you can react, he steps forward. He grabs you by the waist and drags you forward on the open door of the truck bed. You yelp in surprise and bat his wrists, your lunch box bouncing out of your grasp onto the ground. He holds you to hover on the edge before he lowers you to the ground, crowding you. 

“Good girl,” he growls and squeezes before he lets you go. 

You struggle not to snarl outright. He takes a step back, not far enough. You turn your attention to your errant bag and bend to pick it up. 

“Mmm, I like that position,” he purrs. 

You snap up and tamp down your irritation. You wish you could say he’s the first man to be so disgusting but that would be a miracle. Especially in this line of work. He’s just the only one you can’t tell to go fuck himself. 

You face him, “can I go back to work?” 

“Mm, look at you, learning already; asking permission,” he clicks his tongue, “sure, go on, princess.” 

You hold back a shudder and turn to close the truck door. You toss your lunch bag over it. Whatever. 

You spin and stomp away, refusing to look back at him, even as you feel his gaze bearing down on you. You feel even more filthy than before. Not just because of his behaviour but your own weakness. You should say no, you should go work at the Pizza Hut, at least there, you can spit in the food of every ass who gives you lip. 

As you cross the yard towards the shop, you slow down. Your eyes meet those of Carey. He started at the same time as you. He asked you out. Several times. He glowers and narrows his eyes.

He looks at the other guys sat around him at the smokers’ table. They saw it. You know they did.

“All the fucking same, aren’t they?” He spits into the dirt as the other men look in your direction. “Cozying up to the boss to get a few extra bucks on her check.” He flicks his butt towards you as you near the door, “whatsa a matter, baby? You need some new panties? Oh, maybe you’re gonna buy a dress? Start dressing like a woman, huh?” 

The other guys chortle and you ignore them. They don’t matter. That’s the difference between them and August. He can actually ruin your life, they only wish they could. 

[jjungkookislife]

Quarterly Fic Recs 2021 #2

Hello! I’m back with another rec list! Here are fics I’ve read, loved and thoroughly enjoyed in the second quarter of 2021! They are all very wonderful fics! Each story has its own genre, warnings (and are mostly 18+), so please take that into consideration before reading. If any authors would like me to untag them, please let me know. Enjoy!

Yoongi

before i leave you @hollyhomburg

summary: Yoongi Disappears- leaving behind a shattered pack. 8 months later, Jimin finds Yoongi in an H-mart of all places.

Hoseok

heart-on @junghelioseok

summary: my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick

Jungkook

charmolypi @njssi

summary: Work and pleasure should never be combined — or so the saying goes. But you were never really one to follow the rules in their entirety and neither were the ones around you. Love, lust, interest. Five people. In the workplace. What could go wrong? Everyone just wants to get something, after all.

when you least expect it @johobi

summary: You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

wherever there is you @jeonstudios

summary: you’ve been drinking, haven’t you?

instant gratification @dovechim

fuckboi@jungkook x cheerleader!reader

haze @yyooni

summary: So you’ve fucked the biggest fuck boy on campus. It’s a one and done. One night stand. A wham bam thank you ma’am. So why does it happen again?

OT7/Multiple Members

because i’m yours @minniepetals

summary: you should have known they’d never let you go after gathering the courage to ask for a kiss

blazed @ironicarmy

summary: Your friends try to cheer you up during Christmastime, but things go south once Hoseok appears with a mysterious brown bag.

Seokjin

one step @cutechim

summary:  attending an ex’s wedding is never easy, but you might just have the perfect remedy—if you can pluck up the courage to take it.

platonic @joheunsaram

summary: Finding a new method for stress relief, you rope in your bestfriend/fwb to try it out with you.

show me yours and i’ll show you mine @ktheist

summary: you’re a horny bunny yet kim seokjin always seems to manage to slide out of your grasps like a fox every time.

Yoongi

before i leave you pt. 7 @/hollyhomburg

summary: Pack omega kim Seokjin knows how to handle things when they go south (or alternatively you get triggered, Yoongi has a panic attack, and it’s a good thing the pack is there to help)

Hoseok

risky business @yoonjinkooked

summary: The person who invented smart glass office walls knew what they were doing. Your secretary fucks you stupid in the office.

snapshot @xjoonchildx

summary: after a day at the beach, hoseok has some surprises in store for his longtime love

keep me warm @ppersonna

summary: camping is always a great time when you’re with your friends, but even better with your boyfriend, hoseok.

it’s you @jinpanman

summary: An accidental confession throws your years-long friendship with Hoseok into disarray.

Namjoon

love bytes @stutterfly

summary: It’s been a year since you first met Kim Namjoon, the passionate, talented English professor at the local campus. He’s always been clumsy and aloof, but he’s on a whole new level in terms of “technologically incapable.” One call to IT was all it took to pull you into his life, and with it a whole string of friendships full of flirtatious banter and undying support.

Your dating situation has been drier than the Sahara for years now, and you’ve wasted too many lonely nights drinking alone, so you try your hand at Tinder. But you’re not getting any bites. When the group finds out, they are more than willing to help–even Namjoon, though he finds it increasingly difficult to deny that he’s hopelessly smitten. You consider their opinions on potential Tinder dates while fighting off feelings you never knew were brewing for the caring soul who becomes the home you never had.

out of my league @/ppersona

summary: Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

so this is love @jinpanman

summary: “So this is the miracle that I’ve been dreaming of. So this is love.”

problem solved @sugasbabiie

summary: Namjoon helps you with more than math problems tonight.

love is @hxseok-honee

summary: they say that love is supposed to transcend time and space and that it knows no limits. but putting an ocean and thousands of miles between two people won’t make things any easier, will it? 

Jimin

potent pink @dntaewithluv

summary: The first time you see Park Jimin you’re instantly entranced by him. And it turns out he lives in the apartment next to the one you’re moving into, so even better he’s your hot neighbor. When the previous tenant confesses to you that he was the best hook up she ever had, you’re that much more intrigued. The first time you meet him, however, you’re deciding immediately that you hate him and want to stay as far away from him as possible. Jimin is determined to be a constant in your life though, and he definitely is that. Both a constant flirt and a constant pain in your ass. Is a ruined second impression enough to prevent you from ever giving him a second chance?

Taehyung

hush, yeah? @kithtaehyung

summary: the innocent accident that started it all

unfinished business @/dntaewithluv

summary: Besides wanting to catch up with some old friends, there’s only one reason you found yourself agreeing to attend your 10 year high school reunion. The boy you were in love with back then is going to be there, and you’re determined to finally make your move. Except, unfortunately, it turns out that Kim Seokjin is very much happily married. Kim Taehyung, however, is very much single and feels like he has something to prove to you after you turned him down all those years ago. One night is all it takes to make you realize you made the biggest mistake of your life.

under the covers @jessikahathaway

spy!au

darling @bloomsuga

summary: “go to sleep, darling.”

as endless as the stars ^

summary: he waited 160 years to meet you again, and now that he has, he’s not letting go. or: “i love you as deep as the ocean and as endless as the stars”

dirty dishes @jaysdimples

summary: when your boyfriend can’t seem to keep his hands to himself so he stirs up a little trouble in the kitchen while everyone else is a few feet away in the next room

devotion @/sweetbunnykook

summary: You and Taehyung were inseparable once. When you come back to your hometown after three years, fate pulls you back to him. And this time, Taehyung won’t ever keep his eyes off of you.

Jungkook

commercial break; twelve @1kook

summary: Anyway, if it was up to Jungkook, Kim Doyeon would not be a member of the Engagement Ring Committee.

tease @adonis-koo

summary:You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb.

jock!jk @angelguk

summary: going raw with jock jk

evolution of a lover’s heart @jeonstudios

summary: the rules are simple: first one to take the virginity wins.

euphoria @btssavedmylifeblr

summary: At the end of your life, you are given one day to live again with the man you loved. A lifetime’s love story told in a single day.

idealizations concerning real life relations @venusiangguk

summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

relax @itsbuffsanta

summary: jk is antsy after the concert, so you help him relax.

employee of the month @/dntaewithluv

summary: Sometimes it truly amazes you how much of an idiot your boyfriend can be. But you also find it impossible to say no to him. Even when it involves letting him fuck you at his work on the same day that he gets awarded employee of the month…

ego 08 @suga-kookiemonster

summary: what’s a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn’t quite so sweet and innocent? well, he’s a grown-ass man, and you’re about to learn that the hard way.

only you 10 @sweetbunnykook 

summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

lunchbox lovers @jiminrings

stem major!koo x cold senior!y/n

crunchyroll & rail @/1kook

summary: Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket.

only for you @jikookiekosmos

summary: It’s the night before your wedding and you should be happy…but a fight with your fiancé leaves you second guessing everything. A visit from the blue-haired boy of your dreams is just what you need to make it right.

lillies @dewykth

summary: “… white lines, pretty baby, tattoos, don’t know what they mean, they’re special just for you…”

bluekooberry @kimtaehyunq

summary: Your adoring boyfriend, Jungkook, surprises you with a brand new hairstyle before your trip to visit him for the weekend. He’s excited to see you, feed you, and give you exactly what you want.

bad reputation @noteguk

summary: in which you have to deal with some strange emotions for the first time.

not yet @bratkook

summary: jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship

incoming: elite chatboy @kookingtae

summary: welcome to Elite Chatroom, a sex chat company with a wide variety of services such as text messaging, phone call, and video chat. you signed up online for the most basic text service plan not knowing what to expect, but you certainly didn’t think you’d end up actually liking the man behind the screen.

ineffable @euphoria-vmin7

summary: your best friend Jeon Jeongguk has always been amazing and deserved the best, so you’ve hid your love for him. But unbeknowsnt to you, there may be feelings that could change everything between you two…

touch @gardentulips

summary: when you tease and please one another

Multiple Members

friendly fire @kpopfanfictrash

summary: The dynamic: Hoseok; your friend and previous fuck buddy. Jungkook; Hoseok’s roommate and subject of your massive crush. The scene: determined not to drunk-gush about your crush any more (to his face), you decide to seclude yourself from all campus parties. Until, of course, Hoseok guilts you into a favor. Things spiral from there.

the boys are back in town @/dntaewithluv

summary: Getting stood up by your date definitely hadn’t been on your agenda for the evening. Also definitely not on your agenda: bumping into Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Together. On the same exact night. It’s been a while since you’ve seen your two best friends, as well as lovers on multiple occasions, from your high school and college days. A chance meeting, some drinks, and a trip down memory lane is all it takes to reignite the attraction between the three of you. Old habits die hard, but these two? They just might be the death of you.

ruin you @taegularities

summary: “His eyes hold unfathomable darkness that lures you in, captures your very soul, steals any air you are trying to draw. And you know without a doubt that you’re on the path to utter and irrevocable ruination.”

ruin you (once more) ^

summary: Taehyung and Jungkook can’t keep their hands off you. Not even in the elevator.

Seokjin

kairos @luffles424

summary: When your financial aid falls through for your last year of school, you fear you’ll have to drop out and postpone your degree. Until Taehyung gives you a suggestion to make a lot of money, quick. His idea can’t possibly end well, can it?

appetence @luffles424

summary: appetence (n.) - an eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or a natural bondIt’s time for Seokjin’s rut. Are either of you prepared for this step?

tiny lights, tiny lies @ggukcangetit

summary: you aren’t sure when exactly your best friend’s brother went from being an oddly annoying set of broad shoulders to the shoulders you frequently fell asleep against.

Yoongi

the little things @kimtaehyunq

summary: When the present isn’t exactly enough for you right now, Yoongi is here for you through it all. He makes sure you know you aren’t alone and that it’s ok to feel alone.

cyberslut @kimnjss

summary:  he has no idea who you are… up front, you’re sweet and innocent - but in reality you’re the exact opposite. running your own nsfw account, where your favorite topic is his hands.

yoongi drabble @joonsgalore

life guard au

Hoseok

benefits @cutechim

summary: you and hoseok have taken the ‘friends’ out of friends with benefits, but exclusivity has its own perks.

Namjoon

namjoon drabble @lovetrivia

summary: You’re a hot girl on Twitch and Namjoon is an absolute simp.

Jimin

baby fever @writtenwhalien

summary: Jimin wants another baby, and much to your delight, he’s determined to give you one.

jimin drabble @/1kook

best friend au

small hands jimin drabble @lavishedinjimin

established relationship au

silk and lace @sunshyngal

summary: Min Nara is the newly dumped fiance to the Crown prince of Korea, Park Jimin. She’s not overtly upset , because at least now she can live her life without the pressure of the monarchy hanging over her head. Besides , Nara has a very dirty little secret. While she spends the day as the perfect high society girl with an impeccable pedigree , her nights are filled with lacy lingerie and webcams.  Ignored by the man she’s meant to marry, she revels in the greedy lust of strangers on the internet. It’s her way of saying ‘fuck you’ to a system that sees her as nothing but a toy, molded for the future King. Park Jimin doesn’t know the first thing about his supposed fiancee. And he has no intention of learning either. He knows just what debutante girls are like and he has no patience for the kind. Besides, his girlfriend of three years, the elegant and independent Irene is everything he would ever want in a wife . Or is she?Because in the secrecy of his office , after the day’s work is done , Park Jimin has a very scintillating vice that he likes to indulge in : the beautiful camgirl who calls herself the Temptress. Jimin can’t get enough of the girl’s lush thighs wrapped in silk, the pretty pink of her nipples in see through bralettes and the glittering temptation of the jeweled plugs she likes to stuff herself full with.Jimin thinks she embodies  everything he can never allow himself to have as a Prince : filth, sin and decadence , all wrapped up in Silk and Lace.

Taehyung

nip it in the bud @opaljm

summary: You’re not sure how you ended up here, but maybe a shitty ex and a horrible breakup had a hand in what placed you in front of the tattoo parlor. It was already a nerve-wracking experience, but what you never expected was seeing that the owner and artist giving you nipple piercings was your older brother’s best friend you hadn’t seen in ages. to make things even worse, he got fucking hotter.

taehyung drabble @joonsgalore

sugar daddy au

peanut @jungxk

summary: the making of peanut.

Jungkook

pretty kitty @venusiangguk

summary: you’re jk’s baby, his toy, and now his pretty little pet.

heavy metal @hisunshiine

summary: You come home from a trip to find your fuckbuddy has a… hole-y surprise.

devour @bloomsuga

summary: my sweet angel… i am going to devour you

grain of sand @jungkookiebus

summary: Blind since the age of 18 from a genetic disorder, Jungkook walked through life as if he never lost it, but on one fateful day seven years ago he literally almost runs into you. He fell in love nearly immediately. Fast forward to the present and it’s just another day in your quiet life with him by your side.

under the oak tree @mingoyeob

summary: as the eldest daughter of a duke, it’s your duty to marry at your father’s will. yet you didn’t expect to be marrying jeon jungkook, a knight of low status, especially when he departs for an expedition without another word after your first night. when he comes back three years later, this time as a renowned hero, how will you be able to face him and how will things change between you and your new husband?

jungkook drabble @1kook

dilf!jk

commercial break: thirteen ^

summary: Because for as much shit as you let him get away with, Jungkook is certain you’ll draw the line today.

sh. @wwilloww

summary: How could you say no to a month away in the mountains with your friends after six months of grueling quarantine?

jungkook drabble @lavishedinjimin

daddy!jk

OT7/Multiple Members

the end @jimlingss

summary: It’s been a habit of yours to vent in the form of love letters. There’s six in total. They’re kept secret, hidden in your closet. But on your 30th birthday, what you least expect is for each letter to become reality. All done by the whacky ghost of Christmas future trying to grant your birthday wish.

[7wanderingpaws]

Mess We Made - third

(gif not mine)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: arranged marriage au (not bbh), doctor AU, ANGST

Words: 9K

WARNINGS: language, mentions of blood, violence, aggressive behavior

Quick A/N: Another angsty ride ❤ plesae let me know your thoughts? ^^

tags: @byunfirstlady @blackon @puppyeoliepop @in3vitably3v3​ @mangobaek @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @exortedgoods @gureuma (if you want to be tagged/untagged please reply to this post)

parts: first – second – third -- fourth (last)

masterlist

.

Mess We Made, part 3

It happened sooner than later. If one can state that two years later was considered sooner. For you, it was. Despite how every minute without him felt like a year itself, it was still too soon for you.

When it happened, it was sudden. Of course it was sudden. You never expected to see him any more. You even hoped you wouldn’t because you knew you would lose control over your wild emotions that you always bore for him.

When you saw him walking towards you, a pretty, though older lady hanging off his shoulder, you had an immediate flashback.

“It-it has to be you,” you told him shakily, avoiding his eyes. You were squeezing your fingers harshly, the skin around them turning a sick white. “-who breaks up with me. If you do it, it will be easier on you. In fact,” you added with more passion and made the mistake to look up at him. He had a confused, shocked expression and his eyes looked so sad it broke your heart in an instant. The ends of his eyes seemed to be exceptionally turned down-ward looking like a lost child that was looking for any form of kindness. You weren’t giving it to him. “I will tell my parents you broke up with me, Baek,” you gritted, preventing the desperate sobs to take over. “You will go and find love. Find a woman who can be with you only, like you always wanted to.”

“No. I don’t need a woman. I need you,” he insisted, tears welling the brims of his eyes. “I only ever wanted you, love, don’t do this.”

You shook your head resolutely. “No. I really can't do this anymore. You are breaking up with me and I am agreeing, Baekhyun. This is it. This is the end.”

You were brought back to reality when you heard a melodious laugh that was followed with hers. Baekhyun had a throaty laugh that you remembered all too well, though you knew it wasn’t easy to get it out from him, especially during university. He never laughed like that with the opposite sex. Yet, here you were.

Baekhyun wasn’t keeping in touch with you just like you made him swear on the day of your breakup, but still, seeing another woman hanging off his shoulder in such a clingy way made blood run down from your face and it actually made you sick to your stomach. It felt like a bile was rising in your throat. Irony, given how you were headed to a wedding salon to choose your wedding dress. Irony, that your fiancée was waiting at the store, yet Baekhyun was just in a nearby park that you had to cross in order to get to the damn salon.

Your mother was next to you, giving you a confused look when she focused on the spot your eyes were trained at, body standing frozen. It didn’t take her too long to recognize Baekhyun, and just as you expected, a smirk followed by a breathy snicker fell out of her thin lips.

“Oh, well, isn’t that your lovely ex.”

He was smiling so brightly. You knew that smile. Only people who were really, really deserving of it received it. She must have been infatuating to him if he had such a huge smile on his tanned face. He laughed at something she said and she covered her mouth prettily, while she still had his upper arm in her grip while he watched her giggle.

“Honey, let’s go. This isn’t a theatre and we have important business to attend to,” said your mother after a silent break, putting her big sunglasses on, not noticing how you actually couldn’t see anything anymore, because your eyes were filled with tears, making everything smudgy and blurry. You needed to sit down. You needed a cold shower, or preferably a painful punch in your face that would make you unconscious and give you amnesia. This was too much. You couldn’t bear looking at them.

Your mother murmured your name sternly before you felt her cold grip on your wrist, tugging you towards the wedding store. “What the hell are you doing? Stop this nonsense and come!”

Your chin was trembling and you closed your eyes as you let out a loud sob, quickly covering your mouth with your hand hoping the couple didn’t hear it.

“Stop wailing! He doesn’t need you anymore, can’t you see?” she continued, whisper-yelling. “I was telling you from the beginning he doesn’t want you, you silly girl!”

You shook your head, trembles taking over your limbs. Needing her to shut up, you started walking quickly towards the salon’s direction, not wanting to meet them, but it was too late. A gentle gasp could be heard when you snapped your eyes open, causing more tears to roll down your face. He stood frozen just a few meters from you. 

“Oh dammit,”  your mother snapped, huffing as she looked at Baekhyun who was staring in shock, taking in your state.

He murmured your name gently, but you started walking again, not giving him another moment. The woman’s smile was slowly disappearing as she was putting two and two together and even though Baekhyun wanted to walk after you, your mother’s cold words stopped him, which only fueled your steps. Squeezing your eyes shut, you just hurried ahead not caring for your step. Disappearing was the only goal.

“I always knew you weren’t worthy of my daughter. But if you make her cry once more, I swear your title and job will be jeopardized.” She paused as she smiled wickedly at the woman next to him. “Aw, what a gorgeous lady that is. Wish you only the best in the future.”

Baekhyun gave only a scarce glance to your mother, for his eyes were following your figure, long out of the earshot. “We are only co-workers. Doctor Kim is my senior in the clinic.”

Your mother raised an uninterested eyebrow and started walking towards the direction you disappeared into, not sparing the confused couple another glance. “Oh, well, that’s a touching story you have there, Mr Byun. If you’ll excuse me - and my daughter - we are headed to the wedding salon. Today, the bride is trying on her wedding dresses.”

//

You were pulling the dress over your curves when you heard your mother tsk from behind you. She didn't bother closing the curtains like you asked her to, instead enjoying having the entire staff looking at the way you were dressing. Why couldn't the Earth swallow you up?

“Why wouldn’t you eat?” she scolded harshly, interrupting your desperate thoughts, while you heard a distant chuckle of Mr Kwon - well, Minheob to you now.

“I prefer her like that, mother, don't pester her too much,” were his words.

Letting out a sigh, you felt your nose prickle with an upcoming crying spree. It seemed that you almost calmed down, but every single negative word uttered by anyone around you was ticking you off and you wished you could run.

Trying dresses was once your dream and you had it perfectly thought out, too. You had a clear image of whom you were dressing up for, but that was all in vain now. Wedding was something that was supposed to bring you happiness, smiles, excitement with a little bit of headache given how much had to be taken care of; it was just a headache for you now.

Once the dress was up and over your breasts, the salon worker stepped in with a strained smile and helped you tie it properly so it would stick. She gave it a particularly harsh push and you gasped, frowning at her in the mirror.

“Excuse me, miss,” she mumbled, her look worried as she focused on the job at hand.

“It’s alright,” your fiancée spoke up, finally standing next to your mother so he could check you out in the dressing room. “We need to push it up a little bit.” His smirk brought a wave of nausea over you. Gulping it down, you stood upright and walked out of the dressing room wanting to check yourself in the natural light next to the huge window.

When you saw yourself, your heartbeat sped up. The sight was beautiful and the dress was made just for you; literally. Your cleavage was out but the skirt was tall, long and wide, your body disappearing under the countless metres of textile.

“It's a little loose on the chest,” commented the salon worker as she tiptoed over to you, momentarily breaking you out of your trance. “I'm going to pin the front together,” she informed you and waited for your agreement. You bit your lip and nodded, turning your head towards the window to see the world behind the glass while she worked in front of you.

Everything seemed so typical for Gangnam. People were rushing around, some in fancy suits, others in pretty dresses, many of them owning luxurious cars. You weren’t an exception, of course. Your husband-to-be bought you a red Mustang so that you could move around freely, doing the business around your freshly established lingerie shop.

Someone caught your eye as he walked past, this time by himself. It was all in slow motion when he turned his gaze, not particularly looking out for anything, until he spotted the long skirt of your dress and he realized someone was trying it on. His eyes shot up right away, meeting your widened ones. You felt your chest rising up and down in the corset when Baekhyun abruptly stopped walking and stared at your face.

“Maybe tie it up a little loose,” ordered your mother with a strict voice, her focus solely on the worker who had her hands in the front of your dress. “I’m going to try to make her eat a little more; we want to give an impression of a full bosom and soon to be a mother.”

Baekhyun became blurry in your eyes in the meantime as your eyes burned up. It was painful; him witnessing you trying on a dress that wasn’t meant for him. Both of you were in the right age to marry and you were sure you would have done it were you both living under different circumstances.

Slowly, his eyes drank up your figure, until they reached the hem of the skirt that was pooled around you. He hung his head and nodded once to himself before he looked up and gave you one last glance. He opened his mouth, just the slightest bit, and mouthed: “Beautiful.”

//

It was half a year later when you found yourself at a very dreaded place.

“We need to make sure you are actually fertile,” hissed your mother into your ear as you were making your way towards the entrance of the clinic located in Gangnam. Both hers and your high-heeled shoes were clinking when you entered, gaining the attention of the personnel at the reception.

“Oh, Mrs Kwon!” They bowed to you in 90 degrees which made you frown and uncomfortable.

“Why do they already know me?” you muttered to your mother who was faking a proud smile in every direction.

“Quite a shame you don't even know which buildings and businesses your husband owns. Thought after being with him for a long while you'd know,” she replied and faked an even brighter smile when the receptionist came over to you.

“Please, follow me. The staff is already waiting.”

“Mum,” you whimpered, slowing your steps in hopes to stop the whole process. As much as you wanted to have your own kids, you really didn't want them with Minheob. He not once touched you when you didn't want it which was a huge surprise, but he also never failed to remind you how his patience wasn't unlimited. Fair enough. A man needs his woman, he would growl into your ear. Still, you were thankful to him for respecting your wishes. Even when you graduated and he wanted an immediate wedding ceremony, he respected your wishes to wait since you couldn't get over your breakup with Baekhyun for the life of you. Minheob accepted even that. Now, it was your turn to give him something, but you only wished for your infertility. That was all. You wanted to become useless for him.

“Stop the tantrum,” hissed your mother, “people are staring. Just get in. I will be there, too,” she added as if it would make the situation any better.

With trembly legs, you followed into the elevator and got off at one of the higher floors that seemed very high-end. No wonder, your husband was the owner after all.

The kind worker led you to one of the big offices where she knocked once and smiled, urging you to go in. You did as she told, masking your messed up state behind a cold look, just like a wife of a wealthy man should.

Inside was a nurse, preparing the bed next to which were countless trays with injections and tampons.

“Hello, Mrs Kwon,” she greeted politely, “the doctor should be here any minute. Please, take a seat.”

Nervously, you bit your lip and nodded, not meeting her gaze as you sat in front of the table. You looked at the stupid chair with stirrups in the corner and felt even more nerves kick in.

“Stop fidgeting,” your mother scolded again when she saw your knee going up and down. “I swear you act like a virgin.”

You snapped your head to her, sending her a glare. “Mother,” you warned, “stop pestering me so much. It's thanks to you that we are here.”

She smiled. “Very well it is thanks to me. Imagine you'd ended up with that boy-”

Before you could snap at her, anger fuming in you at her audacity to bring Baekhyun up again (and this time without even a reason), the doors opened and two figures stepped in.

It was an older woman which you immediately recognized. She was the one who was in the park that day with Baekhyun, laughing. That knowledge immediately set alarms off in your brain and you looked at the taller figure behind her just for your heart to completely stop. When you thought you just died from heart dysfunction, your heartbeat took off into a huge frenzy, bumping loudly in your ears when your eyes met Baekhyun’s.

“Mrs Kwon, what a pleasure,” chirped the doctor with a pleasant smile. If she recognized you, she didn't show it for which you were thankful.

Standing up, you realized how your legs became completely jelly-like, almost letting out under you. You swallowed on a dry throat, your hands breaking out in sweat when you felt Baekhyun's eyes following your every move. The doctor shook hands with you and your mother who seemed displeased at Baekhyun for the slightest of moments before faking another smile. You thought it was too late for her to play pretend for both Baekhyun and doctor Kim, as she introduced herself, already knew the way she was acting with them. Especially Baekhyun. Yet, it didn't stop the male from bowing to her politely, always making sure to pay respects to your mother.

“Well, I received all the orders from your husband,” started doctor Kim and pointed at Baekhyun, stepping aside so you could see him well. “If you don't mind, doctor Byun will take care of the examinations. He is a doctor in training but he belongs to one of the best. After all, he had been accepted to this clinic,” she laughed.

Your breathing became ragged as you sat back down, relieved to let your wobbly legs rest when you saw both of the doctors sitting opposite you and your mother.

“First I will start off with general questions and then doctor Byun will proceed with the necessary examinations under my supervision, of course,” she added while she was fumbling with papers. You tried hard to avoid looking at Baekhyun but he was like a magnet to your eyes, a golden gravity that brought you peace. Now he was causing more of a turbulence than peace, and you almost let out a squeal when your mother reached out with her hand to squeeze your thigh in warning.

Baekhyun wasn't paying you attention as he was listening to doctor Kim's murmurs, probably giving him instructions and guidelines.

“Alright, Mrs Kwon, do you have any history of taking birth control?” asked doctor Kim with an encouraging smile.

You pressed your lips together, nodding. “I've been taking it for many years. I took pills,” you mumbled, not meeting anyone's eyes in the room. Baekhyun knew this information well, but he still nodded as if he heard it for the first time. 

“When did you stop with the birth control?”

“Just recently. Half a year ago,” you mumbled. “I have very painful periods, so,” you added sheepishly so that nobody - your mother - would think you prolonged your relationship with Baekhyun.

“Have you had regular periods since then?” asked Baekhyun this time, his professional look not short of a kind spark in his eyes and the slightest of smiles.

“Yes,” you answered truthfully.

“But is there a possibility that those pills affected her fertility?” asked your mother with worry that you couldnt take it seriously. She was afraid for her own life, not yours.

Doctor Kim looked at Baekhyun, silently telling him to answer. “Birth control pills can play with the hormones, even affect fertility, but it is not a permanent change. There are many factors playing that can affect your daughter's ability to conceive children,” he explained calmly while your ribcage was under pressure from the tension. His words were giving you a slight heart attack. “That is why blood tests and a pap smear should tell us more.”

“It would have been much more helpful if your husband was here, Mrs Kwon, given we do not know about diseases in his family. Many times, it is the man that is unable to impregnate a woman. But we are focusing on you now,” said doctor Kim. “If you could please tell us how often you have sexual intercourse with your husband.”

Swallowing on a dry throat yet again, you looked down at your sweaty palms in your lap. “It...W-we didn't… I mean we haven't done it.” You went silent when your mother gave your thigh a squeeze which did not go unnoticed by Baekhyun. “Ye-yet.”

“Oh,” doctor Kim let out in surprise, writing in down. You felt Baekhyun's eyes on you the entire time and you wanted to plead. For what exactly, you didn't know. His eyes were so gentle but so, so unreadable. He cleared his throat and looked down at his notes.

“Then, have you had any problems with having sexual intercourse in the past?” he asked in a low tone and looked back up at you. He was way too good at this; pretending everything was fine, like he wasn't the only one who you had sex with in the past. This man knew you inside out; he knew you even better than you knew yourself. 

Jesus, make this stop, you wailed inwardly and shook your head in a tiny no.

You heard a scoff from your mother. “Please, she was a wild teenager,” she said, her eyes blinking dangerously. “I hardly think she had issues. It is just now that she needs to settle down and open up to her husband. Surely you understand,” she laughed but nobody seemed to share her humor when both doctors nodded, Baekhyun's nod more short and curt when he looked back at you.

“Have you been pregnant in the past?” doctor Kim asked and Baekhyun slowly turned his gaze to you. “There are many slip ups, and there are chances that a woman can get pregnant by accident while on the pill.”

You felt gazes on you, though you looked at Baekhyun because the small flashback you had very much involved him, too. Maybe Baekyhun was reliving it as well. 

It was during the first year you were dating and none of you were caring that much about being cautious let alone safe. You still remembered well how you freaked out when your period wouldn’t come and you dragged him to the toilets in school so that he would at least be there as a mental support in case the test turned out to be positive. You knew him barely more than one year, so you didn't expect Baekhyun to hold you tight from behind while you waited the crucial few minutes, his lips puckering on your temple in gentle kisses.

“Were you to be a young mother, I would take responsibility,” he murmured in your ear and that was the moment you knew. You just knew he was the one you always wanted next to you, no matter what situation. A man who was willing to stand up and fight for you, a man who knew where his values stood at and would always be there to remind you he was there for you. Baekhyun had very little. His family barely had a quarter of what your family had, so him putting up a fight, were you to be parents, was a huge statement. He would not have any resources and your family would most probably disown you. “I would always take responsibility.”

Of course, both of you were extremely relieved when it turned out negative, resulting in a tight hug where you hid your face in Baekhyun's chest, his uniform’s shirt a little rough on your blushed cheeks. “Let’s just be a little more careful from now on,” you suggested quietly and he smiled widely, caressing your hair. “I still love you, though,” you muttered to him and his grin grew even wider when you pulled away and pecked him on the lips.

“Love you more,” he had whispered.

You blinked when you’d stretched the silence for too long, quickly looking away from Baekhyun's longing orbs. “I haven't been pregnant.”

“Well, honestly, so far everything seems completely fine,” stated doctor Kim. “We will do the blood tests and just to be 100% sure, I will also ask doctor Byun to do a pap smear and a transvaginal ultrasound. Have you had it done before?”

When you shook your head in fear, the doctor smiled warmly. “There is no need to be worried. It is just a tiny examination.” She looked at your mother. “I am afraid I will have to ask you to leave until the examinations are done to give privacy to the patient. We will be with you very soon.”

Your mother was extremely dissatisfied but maybe this one time, you were the one who was more unhappy than her. The last thing you wanted was to stay and have Baekhyun examine you. In fact, you didn't want him to do anything with this. He wasn't supposed to be a part of this nonsense.

You waited until your mother left and doctor Kim was accompanying Baekhyun who now took charge. He motioned to the other chair in the corner right next to the trays with tubes and injections.

“Please sit down over there. Relax and stretch your arm for me,” he said to you softly, already going and putting on gloves and preparing the injection and gauze with confidence. For me. You did as you were told, and breathily, you looked up at your boyfriend - ex boyfriend, and couldn't help but hold your breath at how handsome he was. He still had a tan though his body looked a little thin, more defined.

“Baekhyun, I will need to drop these documents off at the reception. I'll be back in a minute and then we can continue with the ultrasound,” chirped in doctor Kim as if she didn't just completely smash the smallest of resistances you had until then.

“Alright, doctor Kim,” rumbled Baekhyun and stepped to you when the doors to the office closed, encasting the both of you in silence.

Baekhyun prepared the tampon soaked with alcohol and leaned in, holding your arm in his free hand while running the inside of your elbow with the tampon. Swiftly putting it away, he grabbed the injection and looked up at you to catch you staring at him.

The world stopped spinning for the slightest of moments, your gazes locked, the touch of his fingertips on your arm burning. He opened his mouth but it took him a moment to finally say: “This might sting a little bit.” And with that, he looked down, carefully proceeding with drawing your blood.

“Don't you have nurses to do this for you?” you found the voice to ask, though you didn't dare to move even an inch.

“We do,” was his simple answer, his focus still on your arm.

You didn't look, for the colour of your blood could make you faint and Baekhyun's presence was already a burden. Pressing your lips together, you thought about what to say, what to ask or what to tell him. You won a golden chance since you probably wouldn't ever score a private moment with him like this without it being behind someone's back.

“How-” you started gently, deciding to just look at his soft eyes and his forehead that was exposed. “How have you been?”

Baekhyun ran his tongue over his lips before murmuring: “I've been better, thanks.”

Slightly, you nodded, his lack of communication hurting you. “That's good.”

He hummed, not replying.

“Actually-”

He brought the injection out, skillfully closing the lid and stepping away from you. He was fast to press a tampon to the tiny pinch of blood and told you to hold it there. “The results should be out tomorrow. You can call in, there is no need to come.”

Your nose prickled when he didn't look at you, still busy with sorting the tube holder. “Alright.”

“Doctor Kim is not here yet, so let's wait for her and then complete the examination,” he said, finally looking at you. When he saw your teary eyes, he asked: “Are you feeling sick?”

You shook your head and looked down on the ground.

“Dizzy?”

“I’m fine.”

“Let me give you some water, just in case,” he muttered and rushed to grab a paper cup, pouring some cold water in it before handing it to you. You accepted it with a shaky hand, almost spilling the content just when his hand came to cover yours, steading the cup.

Electricity shot down your spine at the contact and you looked at him again to catch him clenching his jaw. “Baekhyun-”

“You lost a lot of weight,” he stated and let his hand drop. Disappointment washed over you and you pursed your lips. “That won't be a big help with getting pregnant you know.”

His deep voice was causing goosebumps on the back of your neck. “As if I am actually trying to get pregnant. Do me a favor and tell my mother I'm not fertile.”

The sudden sarcasm caught Baekhyun off guard. “Careful with what you're wishing for. You'd be surprised how many women are infertile. Even the healthiest ones aren't able to conceive,” he told you, muttering your name gently at the end. “I'm sure you're healthy but… you do need to gain some weight. This isn't how…” he trailed off, frowning on the ground.

You looked up at him, taking a quick sip of water and then putting down the cup on the tray next to you. “This isn't how what?”

“How I know you. How you should look.”

“Try to live my life, then you'd understand.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” he exclaimed with an eye roll. That action made you stand up, facing him.

“Of course you do,” you spat, “but now it isn’t any of your concern, right? You've got yourself a senior colleague who is also your girlfriend. Stepping past our relationship wasn't even so difficult, doctor Byun.”

“What are you talking about?” he whispered, frantically searching your gaze. “My girlfriend? Doctor Kim?” he laughed humorlessly and brought his hands to his hips. “You thought she was my partner? Are you crazy?”

“Then why were you acting like a couple that day in the park?” you asked louder ignoring his last question. “You were laughing and so-- happy.”

Baekhyun observed you for a moment, his eyes flickering about your features as if trying to memorize you over again. “We have a very good senior-junior relationship. She is the age of your husband and far from being my girlfriend.” When you didn't respond, instead stared at him, he added: “I haven't been with anyone since you… left.”

Feeling the change in the air, you sighed and looked down at his hand. Biting your lip, you slowly reached out, brushing your hands, trying to see if he would reciprocate. Hooking your index finger with his you looked up to see him carefully watching you. Still keeping your gaze, he threaded his fingers with yours, giving you a gentle tug and bringing you to him. You stepped closer and his eyes dropped to your lips that were now parted. His breathing came out in gentle puffs when you zoomed in on those lush lips that were practically begging to be kissed by you. Only you. You felt Baekhyun squeezing your hand and his other hand came up to cup your face gently, his eyes constantly flickering between your eyes and lips. His warm hand finally cradled your face and you leaned into the touch having missed it so much. His thumb went out and traced your lower lip, gently pulling on it.

He took a breath to whisper: “You need to take care of yourself. Don't let him ruin you.”

His face was so close now you could practically feel his breath on your mouth. You dared to make the first step and stood on your tiptoes, chasing his lips. To your surprise, he leaned back a bit, your lips stopping mid-air as you looked at him in question.

“I don't think-” he pressed his forehead to yours in an apology, “it's a good idea,” he breathed but he was affected by you, you could tell.

“Just a peck.” You moved again, but he turned his face away now, though still making sure your foreheads were connected. He called your name gently, his thumb swiping under your eye when he looked back into your hurt ones.

“I'd love to, but I will lose all the self-control I have left,” he whispered urgently, not wanting you to take it to heart. He would never deny you a kiss. Never. “It's already been challenging ever since I stepped into the office.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your lips together as if trying to make up for the touch you didn't receive from him. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“No,” he hushed in a whisper. “There is nothing to apologize for,” he breathed, and made the mistake to nudge your nose with his. Snapping your eyes open you let out:

“I can't stand being with you in the same room but not being with you at the same time, Baekhyun,” you said in a low tone, scared to make any louder noises in case the walls had ears. “I can't stand you questioning me about my private stuff when it's you who knows everything about me. It should be you who is here with me because we want to start a family, it should be you who is putting a ring on my finger, it all should be you,” you added, tears welling up in your eyes when the caressing of his thumb didn't stop.

“Shh, baby, don't cry. I know, I know, shh,” he hushed, and brought your head to his chest, encasting you in his embrace. “Baby,” he breathed again when he felt you squeezing his white coat.

“I love you,” you muttered, swallowing your hiccups. Gently leaning back, his hand slid down to the side of your neck sending shivers down your back.

Baekhyun clenched his jaw and with one last glance to your lips, he murmured: “I love you, too. I never stopped.”

More tears welled up when you heard approaching steps from outside. The dread of having to let him go made you let out another set of hot tears but there was no time. “I'm sorry, Baek. For whatever I'm about to say. It's for the best for both of us.”

He frowned and was about to say something when he quickly stepped away from you and the doors opened, doctor Kim arriving.

You quickly patted the palms of your hands on your cheeks, hoping your make-up wasn't too ruined. You desperately wished for more time with Baekhyun, wanting to talk to him longer, having too much on your heart but this was all you would get.

“Are you done with the blood withdrawal?” chirped again doctor Kim, bringing in a small breeze as she passed by you, not noticing the tension between you and Baekhyun. “Let's proceed with the ultrasound, Baekhyun.” She finally looked at you, meanwhile Baekhyun went to prepare the machine. “Oh, dear, are you okay?”

“She just got a little sick during the withdrawal,” informed Baekhyun nonchalantly, which only made you want to weep more. He seemed to go back to being normal so easily while you felt like a broken machine, not able to function without its provider.

Weakly, you nodded and managed to stretch your lips into a dishonest smile. “I'm all good. But I'm afraid I'm going to want to request you, doctor Kim, for the rest of the examinations. I do not want a beginner to do the job.”

Baekhyun shot you a look from behind doctor Kim but you stared at the elder woman who looked surprised.

“Did something happen? Maybe the injecting wasn't comfortable?” tried doctor Kim. “Doctor Byun is a very knowledgeable young doctor with lots of potential. This is the only way he can learn to do the job properly.”

“Well, I do not consider myself a lab rat to be learned on by a young doctor,” you said, mustering up all the hatred you had inside; hatred you had for the situation you were in, hatred for your family and what had become of you. None of it was about Baekhyun, yet you put all the hatred into him. “After all, I am the wife of the owner, aren't I? I do not wish to be examined by doctor Byun.”

Doctor Kim fidgeted with her fingers, her gaze a little wavered as she tried to come up with a proper reply. She obviously wasn't expecting you to act this way and definitely not use your power. “Alright, of course, Mrs Kwon. Doctor Byun will watch and I will proceed with the-”

“No,” you interrupted, not smiling. You sensed Baekhyun shifting on his feet in your peripheral vision but you spared him no glance. “Let me rephrase. I do not wish for doctor Byun's presence while I am in this clinic at all.”

//

It took another half a year for you to be pregnant. It was long enough time to make peace with the fact that you had to become intimate with your husband. You tried to learn a lot about him, tried to understand the way he behaved and reasons behind the decisions he made.

The morning after you did it, he was already out for work and you were feeling just slightly empty and lonely. Gone were the feelings of joy, contentment, love and pleasant tiredness every time Baekhyun and you made love. But you did something that you probably shouldn't have. If no one knew about it, it wouldn't cause any harm, right? Something like thinking of him while you had sex with your husband. Imagining it was Baekhyun the whole time, despite the touches and caresses your body was receiving were not like Baekhyun’s at all. It was worth the fight if it meant gaining also the pleasure of sex. Why would it be just your husband when you deserved to get your release as well?

Every day, you made sure to tell Minheob that you were not the woman he wanted you to submit into. You would not be only at home, waiting for him to come home (not like you actually would be waiting) and not to do anything besides cooking and laundry. Your house had maids and cooks for a reason. He allowed you to do your business with lingerie and you had been over the moon. It was another reason why you submitted to him in bed. Hopefully, he wouldn't take at least that away from you.

Although, recently he had become extremely protective and suspicious of you, exactly because of your boutique. You were always there or you were always tending to your baby girl, Hayeon which meant you became busy and very much unavailable to him. It led him to try to mark you again in case another man would make a move on you. After having Hayeon, you barely had the time to take a breather before you were pregnant again with the second one. You were in the first trimester already. 

Visits to the clinic were always painful because you were scared of meeting him. Until then you were successful in avoiding him, although there were the small moments when he passed by on the other side of the corridor not even noticing you. It made you wonder whether he already found someone else and was happy with her. You wanted him to be happy, but you were still very selfish. The idea of him being with another woman was making you sick to your stomach.

Just like right now. A bile rose in your throat and nausea took over, your gag reflex kicking in. You were fast to cover your mouth but you received worried gazes from your workers. You were in your shop, sorting out the new designs that just arrived when you suddenly became crazily sick.

“Oh, give me a moment,” you muttered, rushing out to the toilets barely making it into the stall before throwing up. Did you eat something bad?

Once you were done, you tried to scramble up to your feet and go to wash up. Just as you were splashing your face with cold water, it came back again. Another strong wave of nausea hit you and you ended up vomiting every possible small thing your body had yet to digest.

Your brain was dizzy and you decided to take a little break, just sitting by the toilet and breathing yourself through the internal turmoil. However, as you were recovering, you felt it. Besides the sickness coming back, there was something very wet down there and quite a painful pull in your lower abdomen close to the contractions you had when giving birth.

“Shit, did I pee myself or something,” you muttered, frowning as you spread your legs a bit. You didn't see anything through your jeans and there wasn't time either for you were heaving yet again, throwing up close to nothing.

Your ears becoming sensitive, you heard rushed steps from far before your assistant appeared in the toilets. She knocked on the stall, calling your name. “Oh god, are you okay?”

She waited patiently for you to end another round when you managed to gasp for air. “I'm not feeling well,” you admitted, panting. Sweat was breaking up all over your face and you could practically feel the blood draining from your face.

“Let's go to the clinic.”

“No, I'll be fine-”

“May I open the door?”

You hummed, eyes closed as you were pressed against the side of the stall. You were fast to snap them open when you heard a sharp gasp and you looked up at your assistant who was gaping at something on the floor. She called your name carefully.

“You're bleeding.”

Tiredly, you tried focusing where she was looking and another wave of sickness came. You were, indeed, bleeding, a small puddle slowly growing around your middle. That could only mean one thing.

“The baby,” your assistant exclaimed in panic and went to hold your hair when you started to throw up. “I'll call the ambulance. We can't even take a taxi, you'd bleed all over the place.”

There was no time to protest.

//

Everything afterwards became a huge blur. They couldn't calm down your vomiting even in the ambulance as you were constantly triggered while feeling like death. Your jeans were plastered to your skin, the blood smudging everything you sat on.

Since you were in a bad state, they took you to the doctor immediately. To your utter misfortune, it was Byun Baekhyun's shift that day. He was called out from tending to one patient and when he was told your name, he practically sprinted out of the office.

It was a miscarriage.

“It's not usual to have such strong reactions like vomiting,” he told your assistant and then looked at you, lying down, white and pale and just about to pass out. The nurses already changed you into hospital clothes and cleaned you thankfully so you looked at least decent in front of him. “We will proceed with the necessary treatment.”

“Will she be okay?” asked your assistant carefully.

“I'll be just… fine,” you managed to mutter, eyes closed.

Baekhyun smiled, though he still had worry etched into his handsome features. “You heard you boss. She will be fine. The bleeding thankfully stopped. She did lose too much but nothing to worry about. You may go and wait outside.”

She nodded quickly and gave your hand a final squeeze before leaving the room.

Baekhyun sighed, letting the silence linger for a few moments. Gently, he pressed his palm to your forehead. “No fever, that's good.”

You hummed and opened your eyes, tiredly focusing on the handsome male in front of you.

“Did something happen?” he asked quietly, carefully observing your features. “Anything that could have triggered your miscarriage? You were almost at the end of the first trimester. The loss is harsher.”

“No, it happened suddenly. I just felt sick and couldn't stop throwing up,” you muttered, your voice hoarse.

Baekhyun was fast to give you water and helped you gulp down a few sips. “I will do a simple procedure,” he informed you while putting the paper cup down on the small table next to the bed. “I will remove the pregnancy tissue with suction and then I want you to stay in the hospital for two days.”

“It isn't that serious,” you retorted. “I can go home afterwards. I have a baby at home, you know.” Being already a mother, you knew almost everything there was to know about pregnancies, miscarriages and various procedures. In spite of miscarriages being terrible, they rarely required you to stay in the hospital.

“No, I'm the doctor and I want you to stay here for observation. You lost too much blood. Do you even have any idea how dangerous your situation was? What if your assistant didn't find you?” Baekhyun muttered in slight scolding, frowning. He was obviously very worried for you.

Maybe you were becoming really tired when you muttered, ignoring his words: “You know, you stating that you're a doctor is so hot.”

Baekhyun couldn't help himself, he burst out into laughter. “It's a good sign that you didn't lose your humor. I take it you're fine.”

You smiled. “Then I can go home.”

His smile slowly disappeared. “No. You can't go home until I say so. I'm sure someone can take care of your baby while you're not there. Don't you have a babysitter?” He stood up now and went to prepare the necessary machine which was what made you slightly nervous. Until then, you made sure he wouldn't even watch other doctors doing procedures on you. You didn't want to open your legs for him, not like this.

“Can someone else do it?” you asked breathily as nerves kicked in while completely ignoring his question. “I don't want you to do this.”

Baekhyun stopped when he rolled over the machine, throwing you a worried glance. “You don't trust me, do you?”

“I'm ashamed,” you whispered, turning your head sideways so he wouldn't see you.

You heard him sigh and then he walked over and crouched down, looking up at your face. “We have only a doctor-patient relationship. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Just pretend I'm doctor Kim.”

Doctor-patient relationship only.

Right. Sneakily, you stole a glance at his hands, checking for any ring. None.

“I'll be fast. You won't even know I did something down there, hm?” he said gently and stood up.

You closed your eyes and decided to go with it. You were too tired and drained to argue with him and Baekhyun seemed to be very adamant anyway. 

“You don't even look that affected about the miscarriage,” he noted as he gently placed your legs on the stirrups and you tried not to react too obviously to his soft touches. Your breathing grew a little frantic despite your efforts.

Not answering was the best option. He didn't need to know your real feelings.

Baekhyun wasn't catching up though. “Didn't you want the child?”

“I don't know,” you muttered eventually, opening your eyes to look at the ceiling.

“Fair enough,” he muttered back. “I'll give you local anesthesia, don't get startled. After this, we will be done fast. Promise.”

That one last word was what made you completely melt. Of course, just as he promised, you were done with everything quickly and Baekhyun stood in front of you with a gentle smile. “We’re done now. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

He sighed and wanted to reach out for your face but held himself back. “A nurse will come and plug you on an IV. You need to rest, so make sure not to move much about. If you need to use the restrooms, call the nurse. Do not go alone, understood?”

You stared at him. Being almost thirty looked so good on him. A grown man, with a broad chest and kind heart. A rare mix. “I understand.” You paused, fidgeting with your fingers. “Will you be here? Through the night?”

He nodded once. “I've got a night shift. I'll stop by to check-” he stopped himself. “Uh, anyway, rest up. Your body is going through a lot right now. Call the nurse for anything.”

Before he could leave, you called out to him, effectively stopping him from walking out. “Thank you,” you whispered with longing in your eyes. “For everything.”

//

It was 11pm when you stirred awake to a ruckus in the corridor. Unable to make out what was being said - or more like shouted - you strained your ears but you didn't have to. Thundering footsteps were coming right your way and without giving you time to prepare, the door was smashed open, your furious husband appearing in the doorway.

“You lost the fucking child?” he hissed, rushing over to your bed which woke you up right away. Gasping, you tried to sit up but you were very uncomfortable and still tied to an IV. “Look at me! What the hell did you do to lose the child? Are you out of your damn mind?!” he kept shouting.

At his words, your nose prickled. “I did! Is it you going through the aftermath? No. Leave, Minheob. I want to rest.”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “You aren't telling me what to do. And you will be resting at home. You don't need to be here!”

“I was told to stay!” you let out loudly. “And stop making such a fuss! Everyone will know,” you added in a hiss, not wanting the entire Gangnam to gossip about your private life.

“Yeah, everyone will know that my fucking wife can’t even keep the kid inside.”

“And who put the kid in me, huh?!” you said, tears spilling over your cheeks. “Leave! I don't want to see you right now! Get out!” Impatiently, you looked behind his back. Where were the nurses? Of course no one would go against him; he was the damn owner of the whole building and clinic. Why would anyone bother to intervene? Unfortunately, you were quickly becoming dizzy from the abrupt adrenaline rush and needed to lie down.

“No! You will come with me right NOW, this instant!” shouted your husband when he saw you resting your head, dragging you out of your hospital bed, while you were still connected to the IV, your body screaming in pain and tiredness at every jerk you received. You just wanted to rest and not see your husband, preferably ever again. You felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes again.

“Please, just stop, ” you whispered, too tired to let out a voice, your throat hoarse.

Just then the nurses rushed into your room, trying to separate your aggressive husband from your weak body that was being dragged out of the safe confines of the hospital bed.

“Sir, you cannot do this! The patient needs to rest, please leave immediately or we will call the police! ” tried to reason one of them, her face horrified as she was trying to catch you from falling out of bed.

“No, she doesn’t need any of this! She is completely fine, just pretending to be sick. She is coming with me!”

By then you were crying, scared and just about ready to kill the man in front of you.

“Sir, you need to leave immediately,” said the other nurse that was holding back your husband but with carefulness.

“Call for Dr Byun. Now! ” shouted the third one standing by the doors.

Just hearing his last name made you cry harder. In your brain, you didn’t want him to see this mess, you didn’t want him to see you at all. But your heart was screaming for help, for safety of his arms…

You didn’t know how long it took, how much screaming happened by the time you heard an authoritative voice roar: “Just what the hell is happening here!”

Your husband froze momentarily, turning to look at Baekhyun who was taking in the situation in front of him: your arm now severely swollen because the IV kept being maneuvered in your vein, your husband having a strong hold of that same arm, your crying, puffy face and swollen eyes that connected with his… Please.

“The patient is just after miscarriage and needs to rest!” spoke Baekhyun, a menacing undertone in his voice palpable. “Leave this instant!”

“I am not leaving without my wife,” spat your husband.

Baekhyun was holding himself back and it was painful. Physically painful. He couldn’t keep looking. “Call the security and call the police as well,” he murmured as he was rolling up the sleeves of his white coat and shirt underneath.

Just when you were about to process what was happening, the strong grip on your arm loosened until the touch was completely gone, your husband stumbling backwards, holding his cheek.

“Dr Byun,” weeped one of the nurses, holding her mouth with her small hands, completely shocked at the unexpected action.

Baekhyun was gritting his teeth, sending daggers at Minheob. “She almost lost her life,” he roared again, trying to control his feelings, because the slightest idea of him losing you was sending him into an emotional wreck. “Your child has not survived, so you should be thankful we managed to save your wife! And now, leave immediately!”

“I am coming back for her later," whispered your husband threateningly, pointing his index finger at you. "She is not staying here without my supervision.” He gave you one dangerous look before storming out of your room.

Your head was spinning, the adrenaline rushing too fast for your poor heart to catch up. Feeling yourself going completely limp, you let go, the nurse’s secure hold quickly exchanged with a pair of strong arms you just wished for a few minutes ago. The familiar scent overtook your heightened senses instantly calming you down.

Hearing Baekhyun cursing before giving out rushed orders, you finally heard the words you wanted to hear from the pair of lips you adored so much. “Shh, I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you anymore.”

You slowly nuzzled your nose into his chest, his coat growing wet with your tears. You whimpered when the dizziness wouldn’t subside, while trying to inhale Baekhyun’s entire existence. 

“Baby,” he whispered, gently running his hand up and down your back. “You're fine. He isn't coming back anymore. I won't let him.”

“I'm not feeling well,” you murmured, eyes scrunched close. “Please, make this stop.”

“We are giving you something to calm you down, just bear with them, sweetheart,” he spoke to you softly before shouting: “Where is the nurse? Bring the medicine this instant!”

Even in that moment you could feel your broken heart swell with love for him.

The nurses were trying not to give curious, questioning gazes to the sight in front of them, instead following Baekhyun's orders before he would lose his cool. He rarely ever as much as scowled at his co-workers. But it seemed that anything to do with you would set the hidden tiger in Baekhyun afree.

“How will I survive this?” he heard you mutter and scooted yourself even closer to him. “Just…” you swallowed harshly, “how will I get through this without you Baekhyun?”

// // // // // // //

A/N: We have one more chapter to go! Thank you so much for reading! 💕

Please let me know what you thought? :))

CuriousCat

[elsewhereuniversity]

About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in?                                                                                     In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a  birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

                                                                        Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

 “I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

x

[what-the--curtains]

Not a Piece of Art

Part 1/4 - A Grudge Like No Other

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: You’re tasked with an impossible mission and an even more impossible partner to complete it with.

Authors note: I have never not once seen narcos all I know if based on other fics I’ve read so pls be kind but let me know if anything’s wildly out of character! Also I’m aware forensics wasn’t a solid discipline (especially DNA fingerprinting) but we’re gonna pretend it is. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged) 😊

Tw: Mentions of fake parental death, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 4.1k

Tagged list: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning sun radiates down on your shoulders as you lock the door to your apartment complex behind you. Despite the early hour it was already far too hot, but at least the humidity wouldn’t kick in until the afternoon. You’d been working in Colombia for a few months now, but the heat wasn’t something you’d ever get used to. You weren’t complaining, most days you preferred it to the frigid temperatures that painted your childhood. The frost bitten noses, wool socks and thick snow falls coating tree branches seemed all but a distant memory now. You’d settled on Columbia after your long time best friend Connie convinced you to take the universities offer. She had recently made the move down south and was eager to have you there with her.

She’d told you about the job and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had marched down to the university herself and dropped off your resume. She’d flown up to Brown and helped you pack up your life and then unpack it after your arrival to the terraced apartment Connie had picked out for you both to live in. It was a decent size and the balcony was south facing which gave you all day access to the sun. When you weren't working you spent your time out there soaking up the sun and watering the small garden you had been tending to since your arrival. Your days were primarily spent at the university working out the finer details of the forensics lab you were hired to set up. Your PhD in forensic anthropology has left you with various laboratory based skills, including DNA analysis, making you a coveted asset to the campus. Whilst in school you had also completed an art certificate which came in handy when facial reconstructions were needed.

After everything was in place you began running samples, processing unidentified remains by working on dental ID’s and facial reconstructions, as well as testing for drug residue. Despite being run by the University your job wasn’t as research based as you would have hoped with your work often falling under the DEA’s jurisdiction. You weren't involved in their day to day protocols. You mainly just ran the tests, or identified bodies recovered from the crime scene only conversing with them when it was absolutely necessary. Police work wasn’t in your wheelhouse, and it wasn’t a profession you supported or believed in.

Many faces passed through your workspace all demanding your utmost attention claiming their projects to be the most important. One frequent flyer through the lab was Steve Murphy, who Connie had met down in Miami a few years back. His relationship to your friend was the only reason you had bothered to make an effort with him. A friendship was established between the two of you faster than you had expected, due in part to his easy southern charm, but mainly because he and Connie evidently had feelings for eachother. You always found it easier to get along with men who weren't trying to get into your pants which was, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence in the male dominated discipline you worked in. There was only one flaw you could attribute to Steve, his work wife, the other half of the DEAs “dynamic duo”, agent Javier Peña. You’d never been formally introduced to the man, but his reputation preceded him. His was a face that also made frequent appearances in your lab but you'd never spoken more than three words to each other which was, probably for the best. You had what some might deem a confrontational personality and from what you understood Peña was, to put it nicely, an asshole.

He always came in sporting a more casual look and sunglasses which he kept on despite being indoors, a habit that drove you up the wall. He’d tap the file on the glass to get your attention always making you walk the five extra steps to get to him. You didn’t bother to look up when he passed the beige folders to you just grabbed the file from his hands and added it to the pile on your desk. He’d started attaching yellow sticky notes with “put a rush on” scrawled across them in impatient handwriting, as if his case was more important than the remains you were currently working on identifying. Not talking was a strategic move on your part, you’d heard he was quite the charmer when he needed something done, and you weren't going to let him get away with that. You ran this lab, not Javier Peña. Was your dismissal of him warranted? Maybe not, but your gut instinct was usually right and the rumour mill had painted Peña in a very specific manner. You weren't about to let yet another hot headed alpha male who took “too much male energy” to an entirely new level into your life.

Unfortunately, your knack for avoiding him became nearly impossible when you were called out to work on a crime scene. Despite your refusal to work in the field, the remains couldn’t be moved so you had to go to them. The site was just far enough away that a daily commute would have been tedious so you, along with the dynamic duo and your forensic team were booked into a nearby hotel. You weren't sure what you'd done in your past life to piss off the gods but somehow you’d ended up sandwiched between Steve and Peña. Steve wasn’t the issue, apart from the TV which you’d hear blare spanish dubbed reruns of Miami Vice between 4 and 8 PM, he was a quiet, considerate neighbour. Peña, on the other hand, was neither considerate or quiet particularly during the late hours of the night while you were trying to sleep. Sharing a wall with the agent proved to be an issue, so much so that by the third day just looking at him filled you with such intense rage that you'd given yourself lockjaw.

Every night without fail you laid awake as the exaggerated, bordering on ridiculous, moans coming from whoever he'd enticed into bed that night reverberated through your shared wall. You'd tried it all, earplugs, pillows so forcefully wrapped around your head you were essentially smothering yourself, but the sounds still permeated through the plaster and into your head. On the fourth night when you heard the talking start you knew what you had to do. You furiously wriggle free from your sheets and make your way out into the hallway. You walk one door over and inhale deeply before aggressively pounding your fist on the door.

“Hey” you say, through gritted teeth.

“Hey?” a slightly disheveled Steve murmurs eyes squirting into the hallway’s bright lights as his arms cross clumsily over his bare chest.

“Look I hate to ask but can I sleep on your couch, the walls are thin and...”

“And Peña has a thing for loud women '' he finishes for you, shoulders relaxing as he opens the door up for you “surprised you lasted this long, come in i'll grab you some pillows”

“Thanks for letting me sleep here, I think I may have killed him in the field tomorrow if I didn't get at least an hour of sleep. Also this isn’t some tactic to get you to bed so you can stop trying to cover your modesty” You say wiping your eyes, as Steve drops his arms to his side laughing.

“I know, believe me, besides i'm sure you're aware I’m only interested in one person.” So he did have a thing for Connie.

“You should go for it, I think she'd say yes” you offer, even in your sleep deprived state you were still a pretty solid wingwoman.

“You think?” His eyes light up, further cementing your belief that Steve, despite being friends with Peña, was a good guy.

“Thanks” you murmur as he hands you some pillows and a light sheet. It's not long before the AC’s quiet hum draws you into a deep sleep.

The alarm blaring out from Steve’s room pulls you from your dreaming state, groaning as you squeeze a pillow over your head. Why was it that you always felt worse after getting a good night's sleep? You briefly doze off again only waking as the smell of burnt toast convinces your brain that either a fire has started, or you were having a stroke.

“Tryna burn this place down?” you mumble, relaxing back into the couch cushions as you watch Steve scrape the burnt bits off into the garbage before buttering it and taking a bite.

“You think you got enough sleep to not kill my partner this morning?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“No, but I did get enough to realize if I killed him in the field there'd be witnesses” you remark pouring coffee into a cracked mug. “Thank you for letting me sleep here “

“Anytime, though Javi should be the one thanking me considering I basically saved his life. Lucky were leaving today or I’d have to put him into protective custody.”

“And I'll never have to hear him ever again” you say suddenly feeling a bit better. You were glad for Steve being so accommodating to your needs, especially considering he didn't really know you that well. “Well I should go get ready for the day ahead what it's supposed to be out?”

“A balmy 40” Steve offers, as he washes your cup up in the sink.

“Wow I should have packed my snow pants when I moved down here.” you dead pan, the delivery causing Steve to snort as you exit the room. As you exit, Javier opens his door kissing the woman he’d spent the night with one last time watching as she strides off down the hallway. You don’t see him, but he sees you. Specifically, he sees you leaving his partner's room, and in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, he raised his eyebrows. Good for Steve from what he’d heard half the department had been trying to get your attention to no avail. Your head was always buried in paperwork and your ears were always donning headphones blocking out small talk, maybe he should take a page from your book. He didn’t say anything to Steve in the field, but he did watch you interact with one another. Paying specific attention to how you'd made Steve laugh while photographing the murder weapon. Javi watched as you meticulously gathered up a few finger bones that he'd overheard you saying would be used for DNA fingerprinting. He'd tried to talk to you a few times this trip, but the second he'd stepped in your direction he noticed your jaw clench and your body tense up, not wanting to upset you he decided it was best to back off. After getting what you need you packed up your things and headed back home, with no intentions of ever having to interact with Peña for more than 5 minutes ever again.

Several months later

Your lab was now contracted out full time by the DEA which meant you still got to do research but you didn’t have to teach any teenagers which was quite frankly a dream. Unfortunately, the contract meant you'd now be spending time in two male-dominated fields. The boys club offered little that would qualify as genuine friendship. Turns out the ones brave enough to approach you were only nice to you because they wanted to sleep with you. Something you’d found out after overhearing a less than true story about you from one of the guy’s you’d hooked up with. After that you’d stopped sleeping where you work and started looking elsewhere. Your few short lived romances were mainly found in dive bars only going home with people that had been thoroughly vetted (and vaguely threatened) by yourself, Connie and Steve. Who was now a relatively permanent fixture in your life after finally asking Connie out, and you really didn’t mind it. He was good to Connie and he never minded being excluded when you needed a girls' night without him. You also assumed the decrease in misogynistic talk amongst the agents was Steves doing, you made a mental note to thank him later, as you took another swig of the beer you’d been nursing for the past hour.

Steve was still inseparable from Peña and where he went Javi was sure to follow. Your inability to not become enraged by him meant you often found yourself leaving the room as soon as he showed up, subsequently cutting your Connie time in half. Devastating both you and her.

“You know he’s not really as insufferable as he acts” Connie states, Javi was due to show up any minute which meant it was just about time for you to leave.

“ You're not gonna sell me on this” you say, chewing on a stale nacho chip from food you’d ordered hours ago.

“Seriously, he's almost nice sometimes” your pointed look tells her to drop it. Connie was nothing if not resilient and you were constantly amazed by her. You don’t know how she worked as a nurse. You had a hard enough time with the dead, how she also dealt with the living as well was beyond you. She was a quantifiable saint which was probably why she saw the good in Peña.

“Remind me to never make you mad” Steve says.

“No one holds a grudge quite like her” Connie exclaims

“Awe you say the sweetest things about me” you retort after finishing the last of your beer.

“Alright well I’ve got an early morning shift so we should be heading out, tell Javi I say hi” Connie says kissing Steve before the two of you exit the bar.

“Are you really going to keep up this affront against Javi?” Connie asks, interlinking your arms together as you exit the bar.

“Yes, now please and can we stop talking about Peña even thinking about him gets me riled up”

“I thought you said you hated him” she teases causing you to roll your eyes.

“Please don't make me gag” you say pulling a face that causes you both to break into a giggle fit.

“What up her ass? Seriously, am I infectious or something?” Javi asks, slumping down across from Steve who's filling out paperwork at his desk.

“Well considering your history, probability is pretty high” Steve quips back earning him a thwack to the head with a folder you’d dropped on Peña’s desk earlier that morning.

“You know her, what's her deal, why does she hate me?”

“Everyone hates you Javi, it’s a fundamental part of your personality” Steve laughs.

Javier usually wasn’t one to concern himself with how others perceived him, but his work frequently overligned with yours and he figured his life would be made infinitely easier if he could get into your good books. Sure, at first his intrigue in getting to know you was purely physical. He knew looks aren't everything, but for what he wanted, they played a fundamental part. He wasn’t the only person to have noticed you the day you showed up, all eyes were on you as you walked through the DEA embassy for the first time. Your arrival had sparked a competitive energy amongst the men with the agents often vying over who got the honour of dropping off case files to you. A few were apparently even so lucky to have actually spent the night, at least that's what he’d overheard some agents proclaiming loudly, making him doubt their validity.

He’d cracked down on what some would call “locker room talk” when he thought you and Steve were sleeping together, after seeing you leave his room early that one morning. Though if Steve had been spending nights with you he’d never brought it up to Javi, and after he started dating Connie there never seemed a right time to ask about you, so he let it go. He’d gotten more proactive with stopping it once you’d been hired on full time. He’d upped his guard when he’d caught one trying to cop a feel of your ass the day you had been called in on your day off. You’d come in wearing a skirt shorter than what would be considered workplace appropriate gaining you more attention than usual. He noticed the guys hand drop down low, but any contact was stopped when Javi smashed the guys arm back into the wall behind him. In most cases a move like that would have earned him a swift punch to the face but a simple raise of his eyebrows was enough to get the pervert to sit back down.

Despite the scene playing out a few feet from you, you never noticed carrying on about your day as if nothing had happened, headphones on, paperwork in your arms and various scrawlings across your hand, reminders of meetings he knew you'd be late to anyways. He assumes your chronic lateness was a tactic to spend as little time around him as possible. Your hatred for him was palpable, he wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. He'd noticed how you would stand in meetings when the only seat available was next to him. It was starting to get to his ego. He wanted to know what he possibly could have done to be treated like the scum of the earth by you. He’d heard from Connie that you didn’t like cops, but you got on fine with Steve. Your lives continued on with minimal interaction until the day you were called into the head of the DEA’s office.

“Office now!” your boss shouts from the door. Fuck. What have you done now?

“Hey you need something?” you ask, lips parted and forehead wrinkled, feeling like a child who’d just been called to the principal's office. Your head snaps to the left when you feel eyes boring into you, eyes belonging to Peña. He shifts around in the chair to escape your violent gaze. You turn to Steve who's gazing up at the ceiling.

“I have the dental results here for the missing persons from the case last week, it’s a match, I know it's late but...”

“It's not that,” he gestures his hand to the chair beside Peña and you sit, placing the documents down on the table. Javi cranes his neck slightly, eyes darting over the various statistics strewn across the page surprised you were able to piece it all together.

“You have an art degree right?”

“I have an art certificate” you correct

“and you paint”

“A bit”

“She was featured in local galleries back in the States” Steve pipes up.

“ Good, we need you to go undercover” you snort before laughing aloud. Your amusement quickly fades when you realize no one else was laughing with you.

“Wait you're serious? You want me... to go undercover? I'm not an agent, I can’t use a gun, I don’t think I've even held one before” you say, tearing through all the excuses you could think of.

“You can shoot a bow and arrow,” Steve pipes up.

“Ya very different instrument Steve, also does Connie tell you everything about me” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You won’t need a gun anyways, you'll have a trained agent with you at all times.” Your boss reassures.

“No. No way! Im sorry but this… this is beyond the scope of my work and my skill set” you assert, not budging.

“You’ve been to crime scenes before, you’ve been in dangerous scenarios, excavated mass graves, we need you you’re the only one who can help with this”

“Why? You have multiple agents out there who would kill to go undercover, why me?” you push

“ Your background, and relative anonymity. There's been an increase in art dealing amongst the sicarios.”

“So what? Maybe they just really like art.” you offer

“Does anyone really like art” Peña pipes up

“ Yes, the whole world actually” you shoot back, successfully shutting him up.

“We think they're using convincing fakes to smuggle drugs without suspicion” Steve offered, helping to clear up the situation.

“Okay... then hire an art expert to go in and see if the paintings are real”

“We need you to test for residue on the paintings, and to recreate one in time for the next move”

“Okay im good, but I am not good enough to recreate a painting worth thousands of dollars.”

“From what I’ve seen you are,” Steve says further cementing your fate.

“What if I say no?” you ask, exhaling deeply.

“Then you're fired” Javier pipes up, once again causing your head to turn to him.

“And who, pray tell, made you judge, jury and executioner” you spit “last time I check Javier Peña wasn’t the one signing my paychecks”

“No, but I am, and you will do this” Your boss's backing of Peñas statement makes the smirk on his face even more aggravating.

“Fine, but just know I will be personally mentioning you all in my will so everyone knows exactly who got me killed, and I'm gonna want a raise, more vacation time and a new piece of lab equipment if I make it out alive. ”

“Fine” you smile feeling slightly vindicated.

“So what's my story? Who am I to have a million dollar painting in my possession?” you ask, as your boss pulls up a document on his computer.

“You’ll go by Melanie Alverez nee Smith, you were born in London England to parents Maria and Calvin who passed in a car accident four weeks after your nineteenth birthday”

“Shit” you mutter, thinking about your own parents who were very much alive.

“You dropped out of Oxford where you were undertaking a degree in chemistry and moved to New York where you began painting. You were a struggling artist for the first two years but received funding to attend Julliard. After graduation your first major piece was accepted by a local gallery and put up for auction. It sold for 10,000$. The buyer wanted to meet you after seeing your photo. He’d sent thousands of flowers to your gallery before showing up and asking you on a date.

“Must be nice” you murmur

“After a whirlwind romance you eloped and moved down to Columbia where you continue to work as an artist.”

“Alright easy enough, short live romance is a good call that can be used to explain why we don’t know certain information about each other.”

“You'll be staying here” A huge spanish style house appears on the screen. Its prestige was only overshadowed by the mansion looming over it from across the private beach. Must be the target's house, you think.

“It was built by the target, he lives there with his fourth wife. He’s rich, sources claims from drug smuggling, they think he may even have direct links to Escobar

“Like, as in Pablo?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Apparently he’s his art dealer. We need you to go in and see what he knows, if it's not enough then test the paintings in their homes”

“And if they trace?”

“You'll give them the fake implemented with a tracking device so we can target its route.”

“Okay well I'd say easy enough but the threat of being murdered isn’t lost on me. Who's my husband anyways? Obviously he’s rich but did he tragically fall down the stairs and die, did I kill him?” you ask, smiling as Steve laughs.

“What?” you say looking up

“What...” you say as Steve refuses to meet your eyes as he chokes on his laugh.

“Well you haven’t killed him yet but I give it a week.” He responds.

“Who's my husband” you ask, again suddenly afraid and very aware that there were two men in this room, and one was currently laughing at you.

“Your lucky day sweetheart.” Your head turns comically slow to face Javi, the effect only causes Steve to snicker more.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you whisper.

“This mission is anything, but a joke.” your boss interjects “If we can trace the arts movement it brings us one step closer to catching Escobar. I don’t know why there's animosity between you two and frankly I do not care. You two must work together. If you are to succeed you have to be believable. Study up on each others aliases the target hasn’t made it this far without being killed by being stupid. We’ve tried to get to him before with no success, he will be on high alert. You two will have to convince him, and his wife, that you’re sincere.”

[elen-aranel]

Down from Uptown

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Canon-typical violence; off-screen deaths of (young) adults WC: 6k Tag list: this isn’t the story I said I’d tag you for but it is Captain Pike X Reader @jusvibbbin ? does this count?? I can untag you! A/N: Me: it’s a one-shot Me: oh wait I can’t leave it there here’s a sequel @autumnleaves1991-blog​: here’s another amazing Writer Wednesday prompt Me: I guess it’s a series of one shots now?? Also this is super long for me having written it in one day. Not sure where all these words came from. Other writers write feelings; come to me for a healthy dose of plot. tl;dr: Elen saw the picture and thought, what if Captain Pike, but driving a speeder?

It is all his fault.

You shouldn’t even have been here in the first place: you are an engineer. Not a diplomat. Sure you had read the briefing the comms team had put together, but maybe if you’d been better at reading alien body language, they wouldn’t have got the jump on you?

Now you’re sitting in what feels like a cellar, no windows, one flickering light panel above you, leaning against the wall feeling sorry for yourself.

Still. You will admit – having checked Chris over and determined, to the best of your knowledge from your limited field medic training, that he was probably fine – that you would rather be here with him than on the Enterprise worrying, powerless.

While you wait for him to wake you take an inventory of what you have, and think back to how you had gotten into this predicament.

*

“Are you sure, Chris?” He likes when you call him that, even if you’re on duty, so long as you’re alone. “It’s a first contact, and not even with a society that needs help from us. There’s got to be someone better than me?”

“Of course I’m sure. The Eloma value couple bonds; it would be strange not to take you. Unless,” —he peers up at you under his eyelashes, mouth quirking slightly,—”you don’t think you’re up to it? I could bring—”

“No, I’m up to it all right.” You bristle at the obvious manipulation attempt. You may not be as confident over away missions as the crew who go on them regularly, and your minor meltdown in Earth’s past still has you nervous about how you may react if things go wrong off the ship, but the only way to overcome worries like that is to confront them. You know you can do this. “Louvier’s going to be mad, that’s all. I promised him I’d oversee the shuttle upgrades.”

“You let me handle Louvier,” he says with a small smile.

“Well if I end up on gamma for the next two weeks and you don’t see me at all, you only have yourself to blame,” you say with a shrug.

“Being the captain does have its perks, you know. I can change the duty rosters if I wish.” He grins back, blue eyes sparkling and dimples on display, knowing he’s won this one.

*

The first impression you get of Eloma is calm beauty. You beam down to a roof garden high on a sky-scraper, with Captain Pike at your side, and Lieutenant Spock and Ensign James from security.

The garden is gorgeous. You meet your hosts on a paved area, but there are trees and flowerbeds all around, a few little paths winding between them, and you can see three ornate stone fountains behind your hosts, the largest of which shoots a plume of water into the air as you watch. You think you’d like to sit on one of the benches with a book – you would enjoy being able to hear the sounds of traffic wafting up from below (something between hover cars and shuttles by the sound of the engines), the horns beeping, and the occasional distant peal of laughter – it would be nice to feel part of all that but also separate from it.

You don’t have too long to dwell on your surroundings, however, because the captain is stepping forward to greet your hosts.

There are two native humanoid species who collectively make up the Eloma: the Mraden who are tall, grey haired with skin shades varying from sky through to ultramarine blue, faces humanlike apart from ridges beneath each eye; and the smaller, black haired, ice-white skinned Ginera who could almost pass for human if their skin was warmer in colour and their dark eyes didn’t flash silver at certain angles. A pair of Mraden and a pair of Ginera step forward to meet you, all wearing long white robes. You wonder if this is normal dress or whether it’s ceremonial, and you resist the temptation to smooth down your red jacket. The Mraden guards standing at attention behind your hosts are dressed more like you, though; a more practical black style.

“Greetings Captain, honoured partner,”—the Mraden lady looks at you as she says this, and you nod slightly in acknowledgement—”I am Nera, first lady of Eloma. May I welcome you on behalf of the first and second couples.” She gestures to her partner first, then to the Ginera couple, who bow. “We are delighted to open contact with the esteemed united Federation of planets, contact which I trust will lead to our mutual benefit.”

“Thank you, Nera. Myself, my partner and officers are grateful for your kind hospitality.”

You try to pay attention to the formalities between Nera, the Captain, and Lakir the first man, but you aren’t a diplomat, and beyond trying to keep your expression pleasant and listen out for anyone addressing you directly, your mind wanders a little. You wonder about the vehicles you can hear. You’re on top of a tall building, possibly the tallest you’ve been on, and as you look around past the trees and flowers you can see other buildings of similar heights. You think the gravity here may be a tiny bit lower than Earth standard, but this culture really does seem to use its sky space a lot.

You’re also interested in your hosts; although your briefing said that the Mraden and Ginera were equals on the planet, all the guards are Mraden and you’ve barely heard your Genera host’s voices, never mind their names. You wonder whether they communicate telepathically, or whether first and second couples switch between the species periodically. That’s probably it, you reason, and probably the first couple is responsible for security. You turn your attention to the fountains – the middle one is in the shape of a tree, and you’re marvelling at the individually carved leaves, when Chris takes your hand.

“Still with us?” He murmurs into your ear, as you look up to see your hosts are leading everyone through the garden.

“Of course,” you reply quietly, before raising your voice a little. “It’s just so beautiful.” Nera overhears that and smiles over her shoulder, and Chris squeezes your hand, pleased.

You follow the group past the fountains and to a door you hadn’t noticed before. It appears to lead down to a stairway and some guards go through, followed by the second couple, Spock and Ensign James, the first couple, then you and the captain.

But as you approach the doorway you hear a vehicle get louder, and suddenly the guards grab you. Your combat training kicks in as you see Chris struggling – you lean back and stomp on the guard’s foot, eliciting a stream of profanities as you try to elbow him in the solar plexus. But he’s a lot larger than you and had the benefit of surprise, and his grip doesn’t loosen as someone else stuffs a cloth in front of you and you can’t help breathing in the fumes, and you try to hang on but everything goes dark.

*

It is all his fault.

But blame will have to wait until later.

You assess yourself – other than a mild headache, probably due to dehydration, and a slightly bruised left hip, you feel fine. And the bruising isn’t going to slow you down if you need to make a run for it.

You go through your pockets. Your pants pockets are empty, but you unzip your uniform jacket and the inner one hasn’t been found – the custom one you modified the standard jacket synthesiser program for, because you always need to carry more than the uniform designers planned on, and you didn’t want delicate tools getting damaged when you shoved a communicator or PADD into your pants pocket.

You always have some tools with you because wherever you go, whether you’re on duty or not, someone will say, “You’re an engineer, right? Can you just have a quick look at...” and you make a show of grumbling but actually part of the reason you became an engineer in the first place is that you like to get things working for people. You’re grateful today that that extends to away missions.

You’re surprised to find your communicator on the floor near you, but as you pick it up you realise why it was left: it’s damaged. It had been in your left pocket, and whatever happened to you happened to it first; the casing is all bent and when you try to raise the Enterprise, you get nothing, not even static.

Figures that this would happen again, you think as you examine your communicator, assessing the damage. The real reason you shouldn’t be taken on away missions is because of your terrible luck. This one isn’t totally fried, you discover as you pry it apart and examine the components, but while it will still function as a translator, the transmitter was crushed. The communicator will work again if you can find a compatible part, but there’s no chance of communicating with the ship, and they can’t even lock on to your signal. You pull out the broken transmitter parts and put the case back together, and as you bend the cover back into shape you hear a groan.

“Captain?” You get up and crouch by him. He is leaning against the wall of your windowless cellar, blue eyes squinting. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore, but fine. You?” He straightens, focusing on you, reaching out a hand to touch your cheek gently.

“I’m fine. A little bruised.” You lean into his touch, briefly, before sitting back down next to him.

“What happened? I remember following our hosts, then a fight, and now I’m here..?”

“Wherever here is. That’s all I remember too. I hope Spock and James are okay.” Now Chris is awake your brain is allowing itself to worry. You frown. You can’t panic again like last time.

“What’s going on in there?” Chris is looking at you, concerned.

“Just... making a decision. To be strong. It sounds silly when I say it out loud.”

He leans over and places a soft kiss on your lips, and for just a moment you forget where you are – it’s just you and him, and the special thing that you have between you. “That’s a decision we all have to make,” he says as he pulls away, thoughtful. “It becomes... less conscious. With time.”

You nod, and you take a moment to breathe. You’ve got this.

“Seems like they’ve been through our pockets,” Chris says, getting to his feet. “My communicator is gone.” He walks over to the door, which is locked. That was going to be your next project.

“I still have mine but unfortunately it won’t communicate,” you say, standing too. “The transmitter got broken at some point. The translation functions are still operational though and it has power.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I’m good, but not that good,” you say, pulling the pieces of the component out your pocket to show him.

“Ah. Any ideas? Other than waiting?”

“After I failed with the communicator I was going to try to pick the lock,” you say, heading toward the door.

“With what?”

“With this.” You pull out a tool with a hook on it which you use to lever broken components off boards when they’re too small for your fingers.

“How do you–”

Chris’s question is cut off by the door in question opening. You just have time to put your tool in your pants pocket before two Ginera appear, brandishing energy weapons. You raise your hands and back away.

“Sit down,” the lead one says, waving his weapon, and you both comply. The other, also male, steps round him and puts two bottles of water on the floor, and a plate of what looks to be food.

“I’m Captain Christopher Pike, of the United Federation of Planets. I promise if you let us go unharmed my people won’t seek punishment against you, or retribution. If not, though, they will come after us.”

The boy, and he is a boy, you realise, twenty at most, snickers. “We don’t intend to hurt you, but we’re not going to let the best chance the GLG has had to be taken seriously go just like that. Sorry.”

“The GLG?” Chris asks, voice gentle. Unthreatening.

“Ginera Liberation Group. And no, your ship knows we have you, but they’re not going to find you. We called them on your communicator, Captain, and told them we had you, and not to look. We weren’t stupid enough to call from here, either,” he adds, and a little spark of hope in you flares out. “And there are 60 million people in this city alone, they’re not going to be able to resolve the life signs of... whatever you are, among all of us.”

“And what is it that the... Ginera Liberation Group wants?”

“To wake people up. To tell the Mraden”—he spits out the word like it’s a curse—”that we won’t take being treated as second-class citizens anymore. And to give the Ginera hope – that we can take back what’s ours. We don’t need their skyscraper cities, where they force us to live in the dirt. We don’t need their language or their stupid pair bonds. We had our own society before and we can have it again.”

Chris sighs, and leans back, looking up at the boy. “Take it from someone who is old enough to be your dad: taking hostages is not the way. The Federation won’t pay a ransom for us. The Mraden won’t listen to you while you have us. But if you let me go, we can have Federation diplomats come, and—”

“We’ve had enough of diplomacy, Captain. We’re taking matters into our own hands now. Enjoy your food.” He turns abruptly and stalks out, his companion in tow.

Chris examines the food – there are four pre-packaged energy bars. He passes one to you, opening one himself. “Might as well do what the kid says.” He takes a bite, grimacing slightly.

You are not hungry, but you take a bite of yours anyway – you know you need to keep your strength up. You grimace too – the flavour is a weird combination of sweet citrus and something almost cheesy. In general you like salt and sweet but this is not it.

Still you force yourself to finish it; you both need to keep your strength up. Thankfully the drink is just water.

After you’ve finished eating Chris speaks again.

“So how about getting out of here? How do you still have that tool, anyway?”

“I have a pocket in my jacket. I have done for years. It’s reinforced so you don’t see it from the outside – as an ensign my commanding officer cared more about aesthetics than practicality – and that’s where I keep my more delicate tools.”

“Ever the engineer, huh?” Chris’s expression is fond and you smile back, warm inside despite your situation. “Come on.”

He stands, and puts his hand out for you. You grasp hold of it and pull yourself up, appreciating the contact. You go to the door, hook tool in hand, and listen at it first. When you’re sure you don’t hear anything from the other side you gingerly put the tool into the keyhole. It doesn’t shock you, which is a good start, but it still takes a few minutes to work out the structure. Chris is patient while you work, not breathing down your neck. You smile in satisfaction as the lock softly clicks open.

“Well done. I figure we sneak out of here then try to alert local law enforcement. Hopefully they can put us in touch with Nera’s people, who can get us back to the ship.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, stepping back to let him take the lead.

You follow him along a little corridor then up a flight of stairs, pausing when he motions you to stop. You can hear voices coming from your left and he eases the door open then gestures you to follow again. You catch a glimpse of the room your captors are in on the way past, but happily they have their back to you, looking at a display screen. Then you’re past them, to the front door. Chris opens it as carefully as he can but the last bolt is stiff and scrapes as it opens. You sense movement behind you but you’re through, slamming the door shut behind you, racing across the street and into an alleyway on the other side before they get out. You keep going behind the building opposite, and then Chris has you double back to face the street you were on. You peep round the edge of the building – your captors are standing in their doorway, the leader berating his companion, although you can’t hear what he’s saying.

You step back into the alley.

“Well, the—” Chris starts to say, but he’s interrupted by a loud bang. An explosion. People are screaming and you smell smoke, see orange light from flames.

You follow Chris back onto the street but the building you were in, small, apparently, just three stories amongst all the giant skyscrapers, is billowing flame and smoke from all its windows, on all floors. There’s a crowd of people standing, staring in disbelief, as the last window shatters, sprinkling glass over the crowd.

You turn to Chris. “We—we were—”

“I know,” he says, reaching for your hand. You take it, hearing sirens getting louder. You walk toward the building, knowing there was no way the boys could have survived. You stand at the edge of the crowd, looking at the smoke billowing out, as the authorities arrive.

First there are some Ginera on what looks like a fire appliance. They begin to set up hoses, faces grim. Then some Mraden swoop down in a vehicle painted white with a green logo on it. The crowd, who you notice is made up mostly of Ginera, back away slightly. Chris tows you forward, toward the Mraden who are wearing the same uniform as the guards were in the garden, who knows how long ago. They’re not the same people; their skin tones are both quite pale, but to your horror as soon as they see you they raise their weapons and fire.

You’re running again, keeping up with Chris who leads you straight into the smoke and through, round the corner of the block, down the street, into an alley, out onto another street, into yet another alley, until he’s certain you’re not being followed.

You breathe heavily, holding your hip – you were able to run, and could again, but it hurts.

“That was... unexpected,” Chris says, deadpan, and suddenly you find you have your arms around him, holding tight.

“Too close for comfort,” you say, pulling away a little, as he pats your back.

“I really did think this mission was going to be normal,” he shrugs a little as you step away. “Definitely not worse than last time.”

“I mean I know in theory that away missions are dangerous, but I—I didn’t expect someone I thought was going to help us to shoot.”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Seems like we were supposed to die in that fire...” he frowns as you both try to make sense of what just happened.

“What if it’s all a trick?” You muse aloud. “What if the Mraden are the ones who want us to die? Then they can blame the Ginera and crack down on them even further. And all they had to do was manipulate some kids...?”

Chris’s blue eyes are serious. “You’re right. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. We need to contact the ship. But we can’t trust anyone, and we need to get away from here.” He eyes you speculatively. “It’s an old-fashioned term, so I hope you’ve heard it before, but how do you feel about grand theft auto?”

*

“It’s called a speeder,” you say, frowning at the display. It hadn’t taken you long to find and break into a suitable vehicle. It was small, rust coloured and nondescript – not shiny and new, but not banged up either. You popped the doors up and open with ease; not that lock picking was anything you’d tried before today, not really, but you may have broken into a shuttle or two during your academy days.

Chris had got in on the drivers side, leaving you to puzzle out the on-board computer with the help of your communicator.

“I’ve hacked into the admin menu and changed the transceiver code; we need to use it to change lanes and stuff – to move up and down.” You scroll though the options in front of you, displaying in English now, rather than the the native Eloma language. Maybe the native Mraden language, you think wryly, as you find a setting which taps into the city’s store directory.

“There’s a hardware store in a block a couple of miles east of here. I know we can’t trust anyone but I think we may have to try. As far as I can tell it’s quite low down – only on the second level. I think it’s more likely to be Ginera than Mraden.”

Chris pauses from where he’s examining the controls. “We may be better off with the Ginera. I’m willing to bet our captors were a fringe group. I’m sure a lot of the Ginera agree with their goals, but probably not their means. They may be less inclined to report us to the authorities.” He nods. “All right. Strap in. Let’s get this show on the road,” he says, as he presses the ignition.

You look out the windshield at the street around you as Chris gets the speeder moving; with all your running away earlier you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings beyond wondering whether you could be seen. It’s grey, down here. Drab, even with all the colourful advertising signs. There’s a layer of grime, something dirty in the atmosphere.

You stare out the window as you drive, keeping an eye out for law enforcement, but you don’t see any. As you get further east the traffic gets a little lighter. You eye Chris sidelong; he seems relaxed as he navigates the unfamiliar city.

“Time to go up,” he says, pressing a control and pulling a lever. You see a flashing indicator to see you have permission to change level, and then you’re ascending.

You’ve spent lots of time in shuttles, piloted yourself in an out of orbit more than a few times, but it feels different in a speeder. More immediate, somehow.

Up here the traffic is moving faster, and you see many different speeders, in all colours and all designs. Some of the buildings have balconies with people, mainly Ginera, sitting reading, hanging out washing – a slice of daily life.

You pass a major junction, impressed with how Chris is handling the traffic signals, and the buildings change – the road is a bit wider, and the shops have speeder parks outside.

You wish your briefing notes had mentioned the local currency, not that knowing about it would do you any good.

“I think we’re here,” Chris says, as he slows the speeder down and sets it down in front of a shop. You look at the sign – you can’t read it but it has the same logo as in the store directory. “Will you be okay to go in alone? I think I should stay here...”

“In case we need to make a fast exit? Aye Captain.” You catch his eye and grin, unplugging the communicator and climbing out of the speeder.

Louvier would love this place, you think as you look around the dark interior. The aisles are narrow and full of parts, a few of which you recognise, and most of which you don’t. There are bins with various components like resistors and capacitors, and power supplies, regulator circuitry, almost anything you could want. Except, as far as you can see, the thing you need – a transmitter.

At the back of the store, sitting behind a counter, is an older Ginera female, hair greying a little, screwdriver tucked behind her ear as she focuses on soldering a circuit. You wait for her to put the iron down.

“Excuse me? I’m wondering if you can help.” She looks up and her eyes widen – she can’t see aliens too often, you think.

“You—” she frowns, shakes her head. “You’re from that starship. But the news net said you were dead. Murdered by those GLG kids.”

“You, um... can’t believe everything you see on the net?”

“They said that the legislature was going to be recalled. That your people are going to come and punish us.”

“That’s—that’s not who we are, at all. Even if some kids had killed us the Federation would never retaliate like that. They would try to find us, if they thought we were alive, and it might complicate negotiations between our peoples but there would be no punishment. But... how many did they say died?”

“The two of you who were abducted from the first couple’s garden.”

Spock and James were safe. The fist bit of good news you’d had today.

“I really need to call my ship, let them know that we’re alive. But my communicator is broken. Do you have a micro transmitter? Something like this?”

You lean down over the low counter to show her your broken component.

“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “Nothing I’ve got here would be able to take the power you’d need for orbital communications. We don’t need things like that down here.”

Your shoulders slump. “Thanks anyway,” you say, straightening up.

“Wait. My cousin works in a shop at the shipyards by the spaceport. He’ll have what you need.” She rummages under the counter and produces a business card. “That will show you the way. His name is Jima. Tell him Asba sent you, he’ll give it to you for free.”

“Thank you, so much,” you say, taking the card and putting it in your pocket. “You don’t know how grateful I am, truly.”

“You’re welcome, love.” She turns her soldering iron on again, and smiles at you before getting back to work. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“So am I,” you say, as you turn to leave the shop.

*

“I have good news and bad news,” you say, as you plug the communicator back into the speeder and put the card into a slot that’s clearly designed for such things: a route shows up on the screen.

“Bad news first,” Chris says with a wry smile, easing the speeder back into traffic. “Although I can guess what it is considering we’re not calling for a beam out right now.”

“ I should have said great, good, bad and worse. You’re right about the bad news – she didn’t have the part. The worse news is that she thinks we’re dead and the Federation is going to come and get revenge on the planet.”

“The Federation will what?” Chris almost swerves into another speeder as he takes the turn late, narrowly missing and causing the other speeder to honk its horn angrily. “Sorry about that,” he adds, a little sheepish.

“My fault for not warning you before dropping bombs. But the good news is Asba in the shop gave us the route you’re following to the shop where her cousin works near the spaceport. And the great news is that we were the only ones captured – Spock and James should be fine.”

“Oh thank god,” he says, fervent.

You access the speeder’s admin menu again as he drives and change the transceiver code again, mainly for something to do, but partly in case the driver of the speeder you nearly hit decides to call the authorities. Then you review your route. The shop you’re going to is several levels higher than you are now; you hope your speeder won’t stick out too much up there.

There are plenty of new things to see out the window, though. As you get higher the buildings are cleaner, windows larger. The shops you see have more elaborate displays with fancier goods, there are more Mraden around, and, as the light begins to turn golden, you pass your first park, full of Mraden children playing.

“The GLG had a point,” you say, almost to yourself.

“In what way?”

“The higher you get, the nicer it is, and the more Madren I’m seeing. Obviously their methods are wrong but... I kind of get it.”

“When we get out of here, I’m going to tell the Federation negotiators that we shouldn’t agree to anything without conditions of the Ginera being discussed. It feels a little like letting the bad guys get what they want in a way, but you can’t make an entire culture suffer because a couple of kids make a stupid choice.”

“And they were probably manipulated, too. That doesn’t excuse them, but—” you lock eyes with a Mraden enforcer as you pass a junction. She recognises you, even through the glass, and mutters into a communicator of some kind.

”But?”

“We’ve been spotted. Turn left! Now!”

Chris makes the turn, speeding up as he also changes up a level. He weaves in and out of traffic, trying to shake your tail, while you hold on for dear life, glad that you strapped in.

“Relax,” he says, as he takes another alarming turn, flying away from another chorus of horns. “My first assignment in Starfleet was as a test pilot.”

“That’s... um... good to know,” you say, weakly, as he brings you up another level and slows sharply. He takes the next turn at a much more sedate pace, before spotting an empty lane in front of you and speeding up again.

“Are we nearly there yet?” You ask, getting a laugh.

“Actually we are.” As you look around you realise you’re on the edge of the industrial district. Ahead you can just see some star ships, a large freighter and shuttles flying around it. “And hopefully we lost them.”

You reset the transceiver code for the third time, back to its factory default, as Chris makes a right between two tall buildings. You switch the transceiver off completely before he makes two more turns; hopefully it’s owner will be able to pick up the signal when it came on again and find it.

“I’ll come too this time.” Chris says, opening his door.

“Thank you for not crashing,” you say as you exit the speeder.

“Any time,” he says, and you both laugh as you enter the shop.

Where the last shop was cramped, this one is spacious. You recognise a lot more components here; they’re not Federation but they’re ship components and you understand what they do.

You and Chris find the small bin with the piece you need pretty quickly, but it’s locked, and you look around for help. You feel eyes on your back and you turn to see a Ginera male looking at you curiously.

“Excuse me,” you say, tone polite and not too eager, “do you know Jima? We’re looking for him.”

“I’m Jima,” he says, stepping closer. Chris puts his hand on your back; for your sake or his you can’t say.

“Asba sent us. She said you could help me get a component to fix my communicator?”

“Is this what you need?” He indicates the bin you were looking at. He pitches his voice quiet and you match it.

“Yes. This is the one I need.”

He unlocks the bin, takes a couple of transmitters out, and beckons you to follow, keeping an eye on the only other customer, a Mraden male. You pass between the aisles to the edge of the store, quietly following his lead, and go through a doorway.

“Asba called me, said you’d be coming. She also said to keep you out of sight. You should be safe here, to fix your tech. Call me if you need anything.” He steps back through the doorway as you hear some other customers enter the shop.

You put that out of mind though, as you hand Chris the communicator while you get your tools out. You can feel tension radiating off him as you take it back but you ignore that too. This is fixing things. It’s what you do. You open the cover and slot the component in, bending a couple of pins to fit and adjusting the power output to compensate for the non standard part.

“They were seen in this area. The speeder they stole is just out here.” Even though you’re concentrating, you can’t shut off your ears entirely. The people you thought were customers when they entered? Law enforcement.

You shut the cover again and hand it back to Chris.

“Didn’t I see them with you, Jima? They must be in the overflow storage.”

You hear loud footsteps as Chris says, “Pike to Enterprise! Get us out of here now!”

He reaches for your hand catching hold as the Mraden enforcement officers come through the door, and the gold light takes you, leaving them staring.

*

You thought you were glad to get back to Enterprise after you were on Earth. But that was nothing to how you feel now. You keep it together, however, in front of Number One, Spock, and the transporter technician.

“They said you were dead,”Number One says in greeting. “They showed us the burning building. They showed us your burnt communicator with the power cell removed. They said that was the only thing that survived.”

“What’s the quote? ‘The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated’?” Pike shrugs, giving her a half smile.

“ ‘The report of my death was an exaggeration.’ I’m glad you’re okay, Chris, but don’t do that to me again. At least not for another month.”

*

You shower in your own quarters, having got your bruise treated in sickbay, trying to calm down. Away missions are still a lot. Chris told you to take twenty four before reporting for duty again, and you will, but you get a report written first – you need to make sure that Jima and Asba are safe, and that the ship sends some compensation to the person whose speeder you stole. That done, you check with the computer, change into civvies and join Chris in his quarters.

“Hey,” he says as you walk in, standing from where he was sitting by the window and drawing you into a hug, then a soft kiss. You bring a hand up to his face, running you fingers over the stubble that’s there after a very long day, and kiss him back, heated, your lips moving across his, his tongue licking into your mouth. You pull apart, staring up into his blue eyes.

“You were right,” he says, drawing you across the room to sit next to him on the couch. “There was a Mraden plot. Nera and Lakir have resigned, although they claim they didn’t know what was going on, and Tura and Sama, the Ginera second couple, have taken power until they can hold new elections. It’s going to be a tough road for Eloma, if they’re going to properly confront their problems, but the Federation will help.”

“I’m glad,” you say, leaning into him, enjoying how safe you feel with his arm around you. “I—I hope those boys’ sacrifice turns out to be worth it.”

“Yeah,” he says, kissing your head, and you sit in silence for few minutes.

“Dinner?” He asks eventually.

“Yes if we can have your chilli again. I think we’ve earned it.”

“Oh you definitely did,” he replies, standing to go over to the synthesiser.

*

“Lieutenant?” It’s two days later and you’re on your way to Engineering from the mess hall. You turn in the corridor, to see Number One standing there, an amused expression on her face.

“Commander?”

“Next time he asks you to go on an away mission, just say no.”

[djarinslover]

Pretty Lover

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F! Reader (no y/n)

Warnings: swearing, bdsm dynamic, male feminization, Dom/sub, male penetration, food play, fluff, SMUT 

Word Count: 3K

A/N: I finally finished writing this after, what? A few months? I’m sorry, I SUCK at keeping up with writing and I’m trying to do better. Please enjoy this and let me know if you wanted to be tagged or untagged. Part two of Good Boy Xxxx

Part one here:

Maxwell went home earlier than you did that night. You had a few things to catch up on in the office. Plus, you wanted to keep him anticipating what the night would hold. He had his instructions - set the table, have dinner ready (though the chef would take care of that), and be kneeling in front of the door with his leash and collar in hand when you got home. Naked. You couldn’t wait.

Finishing up paperwork with a sigh, you stretch and check your watch. Quarter to six. You shove from your desk, slipping your heels on as you call the limo driver.

“Richard, I’m done.”

“I’ll be waiting outside for you, Mrs. Lord.”

‘Mrs. Lord.’ The title bounced around in your head as you walked to the elevator. You and Maxwell were an item, yes. But he had never mentioned marriage, or even hinted at it. You didn’t mind; he was Maxwell Lord, known for hustling and charming as many women as he could. Marriage wasn’t exactly something you thought of a lot, either. Sure, it would be nice to call Maxwell your husband. In fact, the thought had your cheeks warm. But, until he brought it up, you wouldn’t say anything. You didn’t want to scare him away with one of the most vanilla things in the world. That wasn’t his style; he was kinky more than anything.

Richard was holding the door open for you when you stepped outside, gaze focused on the ground. You slid into the car, resting your head back as you blow out a breath. It had been a long day (your sexcapade aside) and all you wanted to do was curl up with Maxwell. Then, you remembered he was wearing a cock ring. He was probably waiting for you at the door now, cock hard and dripping as his knees hurt from the hardwood floor. The thought made heat race through your belly, warm and not so subtle. Biting your lip, you pull your phone out to send him a message.

‘My pet better be ready for me.’

It took exactly a minute to receive an answer. It was a picture of him on his knees, mouth hanging with drool running down his chin. You could see he was shirtless. Another picture followed. This was of his hard cock looking so pretty in the pink cock ring. Your thighs clenched, pussy tingling with arousal.

‘Be home in five. I can’t wait to see how well you’re sitting for me, pet.’ 

You didn’t receive an answer back, but it just excited you more. You couldn’t stop thinking of all the things you wanted to do tonight.

Exactly five minutes like you said, you arrived home. Richard parked the car, then exited to open the door for you. You thanked him over your shoulder, too eager to get inside. Luckily, the door had been left unlocked for you. When you stepped in, your bag and jaw dropped.

There sat your boyfriend, looking so pretty and delicious. He was still wearing the pink cock ring like the good boy he was. The leash and collar were also on. But what really caught your eye was something you hadn’t seen before, especially not on him - lingerie. He was wearing a gray bra and panties with pink flowers and white lace, along with a garter belt attached to gray stockings. He also had on a pair of black heels. A smirk curled along his lips as he watched your expression. He sat up straighter, holding his leash out with a glimmer of glee in his eyes.

“Welcome home, Mistress.”

“Wow, darling. Did you have this planned for a while?” you ask, finally managing to walk towards him. You circled him, eyeing up every angle.

“It was rather spontaneous. I bought all this after our session in the office.” He stuck his ass out as you walked around him, a purr in his voice. “Dinner is ready, if you are hungry, Mistress.”

You gather yourself, picking up your bag. “Yes, pet, I am. Put my things away, will you?”

Maxwell crawled over to you, leaning down to press a kiss to both of your feet. He peered up, lashes framing the dark look growing in his pupils. Arousal licked at your insides, spreading along your spine and tingling down your fingertips. He stood, taking your bag and heading to the dining room. You followed, admiring the way his ass looked in the panties and the way the heels made it looks more defined. You bit your lip, thinking you two will have to invest in more lingerie for him, along with heels. You didn’t understand why seeing him dressed like that got you all hot and bothered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to complain. You even noted he walked pretty fucking well in those heels.

Dinner was laid out with candles and rose petals. You laugh, picking up a petal. “How cliché.’

“You love the cliché.” 

“Mmm, I beg to differ.” You stalk up to him, looping a finger through his collar to bring his face to yours. He blushed, lip caught between his teeth. “You dressing like this isn’t very cliché, is it?”

He shook his head, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You let go, sliding away to sit down. He quickly joined, the two of you eating dinner in silence. He had the chef prepare you a steak, potatoes and green beans just the way you liked it. Not a super fancy dinner but something that would give you energy for the night ahead. You ate slowly, making sure Maxwell was watching the way your lips wrapped around the fork, the way your tongue licked it clean. His eyes followed every little move you made.

After about half an hour of eating in silence, he cleared his throat. “May I be excused, Mistress?”

“You may.”

You offered your plate to Maxwell and he took it, scurrying off to the kitchen. When he returned, he was carrying a small box and a can of whipped cream. You cock an eyebrow, watching as he came closer with a small smirk on his cute lips. The box contained chocolate covered strawberries. A favorite treat of yours.

“Shall we have dessert in the bedroom?” Maxwell asked, extending a hand to you.

You smile, reaching for his head. The two of you walk to your bedroom, giggling from the excitement you were feeling. Max let you step into the room first, letting you see the various toys laid on the bed, plus more candles and rose petals. It made your heart flutter, a blush warming your face. You turn to your boyfriend. He was smiling, holding out the box of strawberries.

“Oh, Maxwell. What is all this for?”

“For knowing what I always need. For being my partner, my employee, my best friend and my Mistress. I figured after you treated me this morning, it’s only fair I treat you as well.”

“You always treat me, my love.”

You reach out to him, inviting him into your embrace. He nuzzles a cheek on your palm. You open the box, plucking a nicely covered berry and pressing it to his lips. He opens his mouth, eyes fluttering and a soft moan leaving his lips as he bit down. You took the can of whipped cream from his hands, shaking it before pouring some in your mouth. You press your lips to his, and he licked into your mouth, trying to get every last hint of cream, hands gripping the fabric covering your hips. He was whining, pawing at the clothes you wore. It burnt you up to realize he was practically naked, only wearing lingerie while you were fully clothed.

You break the kiss, moving hair out of his eyes. “Kneel.”

He fell instantly, so hard and fast you were sure his knees would be bruised by morning. You observed him, taking another berry out and eating it. His eyes never left you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you slowly eat the treat, pondering what to do with your boyfriend. You look at the toys laid out when one in particular caught your eye. An almost evil smirk crossed your lips. Finishing eating, you stand and begin putting away toys you won’t need.

Maxwell watched, patiently sitting on his haunches with his hands clasped. When you were finished, all that was left on the bed was a bottle of lube, a Hitachi vibrator and a strap-on. The strap-on was a pretty light blue, 5 inches long and 2 inches thick. One of Maxwell’s favorites. His body began to go pink with excitement, starting at his neck and continuing down to his belly. His cock was twitching in the panties, aching from the pressure of the ring.

“Come here, Max.”

He crawled as quickly as he could to you. You invited him up onto the bed, reaching to stroke his cock. He shuddered, shoulders slumping as he practically curled in on himself. You took pride in how well he was handling the touch.

“Is it okay if I use the strap on you tonight?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” he begged.

“Alright, love. Get comfortable.”

Maxwell scooted to lay back against the pillows. You took one of the many pillows you had and placed it under his lower back to elevate his ass. He spread his legs for you, and goddamn, you could have started drooling from how good he looked. On his back, dressed in such a gorgeous set of lingerie, heels on his feet, legs spread, cock hard and poking through the panties. You wanted to take a picture. Or never wanted the moment to end.

You start kissing at his left ankle, following up his leg until you get to his cock. Then you switch to the other leg, at the ankle. He groans, hips thrusting up as you come back near his cock. Instead of paying attention to it, you keep kissing up his belly, sucking at his nipples and leaving a bruise on his collarbone. You reach his lips, hovering just far away enough he couldn’t kiss you. He knew better to try, anyway. Your tongue flicks out to lick his lips, moving over to kiss his cheek, up to his ear. You do this to the other side of his face as well. His eyes are scrunched up in frustration until you kiss him properly.

He’s Jell-O under your touch, limp and compliant. You began palming his cock, going back to suck his nipples when he whines.

“Mistress, please,” he cries.

“Please what, pet?”

“Please just fuck me already!”

You tut, pinching the nipple you were sucking on. “How impatient, dear. I’ve barely touched you.”

His face falls. “I just want to feel your cock in me.”

A scintillas of heat pooled in your pussy, catching you off guard. The words that came out of his mouth made your body tingle, your clit throbbing and heart pounding. But, you weren’t going to let him get to you that easily.

“Oh, Maxwell. You really thought all this nice decorating and flattering would get me to fuck you that quick, huh?”

You reach for the Hitachi, flicking it to the highest setting before placing it on his covered cock. He whimpered loudly, hips rising in the air to the meet the vibrations. He thrashed about until you moved it away, giving him a disappointing look.

“Can you stay still for me, Maxie? I want to see how good you can be for me.”

With a whine, he nodded. His bottom lip was caught tight between his front teeth, hair messy and a gorgeous blush on his cheeks. A wicked smile formed on your lips as you pressed the vibrator back onto him, relishing in the way he fought to keep himself still. You kept edging him until you knew he couldn’t take it anymore, until you could tell he was right at the edge of climax. Turning it off and putting it aside, you crawled up to kiss him. He turned to you with such a hunger, it knocked the air out of your lungs.

“You did so good for me, Maxie. I’m proud of you for not cumming.”

He beamed, looking so stress free and beautiful. You pet his hair as you press kisses along his face and neck, waiting for him to calm down.

“I’m ready, Mistress,” he said in a soft voice.

“Are you sure, pet?”

“Yes. Please fuck me.” The request dripped with arousal and to prove his point, he held his legs open wide.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you sit up and pull his panties to the side. You pour the lube over his hole, then your own fingers. You start slowly, one finger even though he was baring down for more.

“Please, please, Mistress! More!”

“Shh, shh,” you hush, putting a second in him. You work him up to four fingers and continue with those four for a few more moments. When you feel he is properly prepared, you slide your fingers out, which makes him groan at the empty feeling and wiggle his ass. You stand up, shedding your clothes as fast as you could. You didn’t care about teasing him with stripping slowly, you just wanted to make him squirm under you as soon as possible.

Once stripped down to only your underwear, you fiddle with the harness and strap-on, watching Maxwell’s reactions. He was watching you with bright lust in his eyes, the submission taking a backseat as he admired you. You admired back, waddling up the bed on your knees once you have the harness adjusted.

You soothe your hands down the back of his thighs, taking one hand to hold the strap-on. “Are you ready for me, pet?”

“Yes!” he cried, thrusting his hips down towards the plastic cock.

You laugh, pressing his left thigh to his tummy as you begin pushing into him. You push and push until your hips meet his. You both moan as you bottom out, just sitting there as you watch his face, searching for signs of discomfort or pain. Instead, he took a deep breath, met your gaze with a cheeky grin and pushed his hips down. You smirked, retaliating with a hard thrust back. His eyes rolled to the back of his head.

You let his legs fall to wrap around your waist as you place your hands by his head, leaning down to kiss him. You thrust as hard as you could manage, making him let out the most delicious noises against your mouth. He tried his damn hardest to kiss you back with an open mouth. Each thrust you gave made a moan or groan punch out of his lungs. It was the most beautiful song you’d ever head.

“Harder, please, harder!” he begged, hands going down to grip your ass.

You press your hips against him and make rough thrusting movements. It seemed to satisfy him as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his mouth hanging open mid moan.

You couldn’t help but grin to yourself. You loved to see him in the throes of pleasure, and this had to be the most satisfying session of sex you’ve had yet. The strap-on was pressing on your clit in the best way, making you move to chase the pleasure you were feeling.

“Mistress, may I cum? Pl-ease!”

You watch Maxwell’s desperate face, pumping your hips harder. He had tears in his eyes from holding back, lips red and pump, face pink. You wanted him to always look like this.

“Yes. Cum for me, love.”

With a final thrust, Maxwell was cumming all over his stomach and panties. He was crushing your biceps in a tight grip, head thrown back as he let out the loudest shout of your name. You kept humping against him, chasing your own climax but the overwhelmed whimpers from Maxwell made you stop. You slowly pulled out of him, pressing kisses to his face. He seemed to be far gone at the moment, not registering your presence. You press one last kiss to his forehead before getting up.

Tossing the dildo in the sink for later clean up, you run a washcloth under warm water, then walk back to your boyfriend. He was still semi-out of it, eyes post-climax cloudy and glossy. You wiped his cum off of his stomach, folded the washcloth and then wiped the lube off him. He twitched, still so sensitive. You pull the panties off and unhook the bra. Taking his shoes, garter belt and stocking off, you sat the outfit in a pile next to your toybox. As you’re taking the harness off yourself, you notice out of the corner of your eyes that Maxwell was moving to watch you.

“Oh, hello! You’re back.”

He nodded, then made grabby hands in your direction. You slid up next to him, resting his head on your chest. He clung to you, snuggling his face into the base of your neck. He mumbled something into your skin.

“What was that?”

“I said, did you cum?”

“No. But that’s okay, you can make it up to me later.”

You hold him until he fully comes back to reality and gathers the strength to sit up. He holds a hand up your cheek, caressing your face. “Care to join me in the shower?”

“Of course, babe.”

The two of you head to the bathroom, hands intertwined. After you turned the shower on, Maxwell grabbed your face. He pressed his lips to yours softly, thumbs running over your cheeks. You smile into the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair.

“What was that for you?” you whisper as you part from his mouth.

“I can’t kiss my lovely girlfriend?” He rolled his eyes as you giggled. “Just a thank you. You took good care of me tonight.”

“That’s my job, Maxie.” You look him in the eyes, pushing hair aside. “I love you.”

A smile lit up his face. “I love you, too.”

And while you were distracted with the declaration of love, he opened the shower curtain and splashed water on you. You squeal, trying to glare at him. 

“Cold?” he laughs.

You roll your eyes, laughing yourself. “No, goofball. It’s perfect, lets go.”

You two shower, enjoying the intimacy of showering together. You could tell he loosened up from this morning and you silently patted yourself on the back. After the nice relaxing shower, you lay curled up in his arms. He was already snoring, damp hair sprawled on his pillow. You press one last kiss to his lips before snuggling up to sleep. 

Tagged: @pajamasecrets @heather-lynn @zeldasayer @talesfromtheguild @ben-is-a-hoe @kaetastic

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

LAOFT AU in which TSS/CT/TS Shorts exist part 4: When everyone learns about loaft

A/N: Before we get started, I just want to say that if you want more of this and other laoft content, you should follow me! me brain is constantly very brrrrr about this AU so I’ve got lots of ideas in my head 

tw: mentions of untagged triggers (it didn’t actually happen), brief cursing. 

“Uh, guys, could you get in here for a second?” Roman calls from the bedroom. Mawmaw and Linda were currently out getting ice cream, something about “not letting Dorothy be the favorite.” Whatever the reason, it was probably best for this conversation to not be held around Linda. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Patton asks as he, Logan, and Virgil enter the room.

“Roman, are you ok?” Logan says, sitting right next to him, though Roman isn’t sure he saw him move.

“Uh-”

The answer was no. Of course it was no. What Roman had just found was something so unbelievably impossible, he was sure he was hallucinating. There was no way something like this existed. He didn’t get very far, just read far enough to know for sure what it was.

“Roman, sweetheart, you gotta talk to us,” Patton said in a calming voice, “Was it something on your phone?”

“No. I mean yes, but not like that. It wasn’t untagged triggers or anything, just-” Roman fumbled for the right way to say it, “Just look at it yourself.”

Roman handed the phone to Patton, Logan and Virgil looking over his shoulder.

“What the hell?” Logan says taking the phone in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says, “But did Thomas accidently leak our entire lives while we were not looking or…?”

“I just- I- I don’t know?” Patton stammers lamely.

“Do you think someone from town wrote it?” Roman suggests, “Maybe they took the, frankly terrifying, tale that is our lives and just tried to use it for clout? Hoping we wouldn’t notice?”

“No, look,” Logan says, “Look at how it’s written. The narrator is omniscient, and therefore the author would have to be, too. There’s no way anyone in this town could know what everyone of us is thinking. It’s impossible.”

“Then how-” Virgil starts.

“I don’t know. I have no idea how anything like this could happen.” Logan cuts him off, “Thomas’ fans don’t know what town he lives in, and they certainly don’t know anything about it. We haven’t read much, but from what we have seen, it’s certainly accurate.”

“Should we?” Roman asks, “Read more of it, I mean.” Three immediate No’s chorused back as soon as he asked the question.

“Yeah, didn’t think so…” Roman trailed off.

“But, seriously guys, how could something like this happen?”

“A prophet, maybe? Certainly someone with Precognition, or even just some sort of Clairvoyance.” Logan suggested. 

“Uh, say that one more time in English, please,” Patton requested, both him and Virgil looking utterly confused.

“Future Vision or other Psychic abilities,” Roman clarified. 

“Oh. Well, you really could have just said that the first time.” Virgil muttered.

“But, wait, is that even possible?” Patton questioned, “Is Seeing even, like, a real thing?”

“Yes,” both Virgil and Roman said at the same time, one with fear, the other with excitement. 

“Ok, then, why don’t we just find their- wait-” Patton said reaching for the phone again.

“What are you doing?” Roman asked.

“Bio check. Just because this person might be able to kill us doesn’t mean we can’t respect their- or his, actually- his pronouns.” Patton chirped.

“Oh, ok. Well then, finish what you were saying,” Roman prompted.

“Oh, right! Well why don’t we just try to, I don’t know, find her, see if he can See, and then question her about it accordingly!” 

“No. Absolutely not,” Virgil chimed in almost immediately, “I don’t even have those kinds of powers. I don’t even have the ability to Give those types of powers. People who have those types of powers are frankly, terrifying. I don’t want to fuck with that.”

 “Wait, have you ever fought someone with those powers?” Roman sat up curiously.

“Once. Exactly once.”

“And they-”

“She said she went by Tulip,” Virgil said cutting Roman off, “Or Violet, he said that he responded to pretty much all flower names.”

“So she’s an absolute icon, got it,” Logan deadpanned, causing a snort from Roman. 

“Uh, Virge,” Patton said, handing him the phone. Virgil’s eyes scanned the bio at the top of the screen.

“Fuck me gently with a goddamn chainsaw.”

“We need to tell Thomas.”

---

V: aksdjALKSJDALKSJ i am in HYSTERICS this is so freaking good poppy omg XD

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Fresh Start - Prologue

Ethan x MC

Summary: After going through her own personal trauma, Dr. Naomi Valentine packs up and sets her sights on Boston. But a new job in a new city comes with its own set of challenges and drama.

A/N: I honestly have no idea why this plot popped into my head, but where we are. Part of this chapter borrows from Ethan and MC’s very first encounter in chapter 1, with some very minor tweaks.

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. And enjoy!

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartwriting @mvalentine @nooruleman 

~v~

Don’t get married at 19, they said. Don’t spend the best years of your life tied down to someone else, they said. This will be the biggest mistake of your life, they said.

They were all right.

If you would’ve told Naomi that her husband of 9 years was going to cheat on her with his receptionist and knock her up, she would’ve laughed. But fate laughed harder.

She’s Naomi freaking Valentine – thank God she never changed her last name. She’s brilliant, she’s an attending at one of the best hospitals in Washington D.C, and she comes from one of the most prominent families in this city, but none of that even matters. Because it’s Friday night and she’s currently at home, watching trashy television, crying into her couch cushion.

At first there was the unbridled rage that threatened to consume her from the inside out. Leading up to the divorce, she felt like she was always on the brink of exploding. She wanted to kill her husband, his stupid mistress, his slimy divorce attorney, and anyone else who dared cross her path.

But now that the divorce papers are signed, now that all of the air has been deflated from her, all she feels is overwhelming sadness.

Divorce sucks. It’s a pretty well known fact, but everyone else feeling the same way doesn’t negate her feelings. She’d rather get split down the middle and turned inside out than ever go through something like this ever again. She’s strong, but she’s not strong enough to endure this type of battle more than once.

She’s too wrapped up in her own feelings, she doesn’t notice the front door of her condo opening and closing. But the sound of heels clinking against her wood floors is enough to pull her out of her own thoughts.

“You weren’t answering my calls, darling.”

The vivacious voice of Dorinda Valentine booms throughout the condo. Naomi looks up and sees her mother standing a few feet away. She has Tupperware in her hands.

“Yeah, I turned my phone off.”

“I figured.”

“What’s in the Tupperware, mama?”

“I made you some chicken stir fry. I think it’s safe to assume you haven’t eaten anything today.”

It’s a correct assumption. On any other day, Naomi would devour anything her mother put in front of her face, but now, the thought of food makes her stomach turn.

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re a doctor, Naomi, you know better than anyone that you should be eating.” Dorinda stares at the tall bottle of vodka on the coffee table. “And just because vodka is made from potatoes, it still doesn’t count.”

Naomi doesn’t respond. She just turns her head and burrows further into the couch.

Dorinda stands there for a few moments, observing her daughter. It’s a depressing sight, one she isn’t used to. If she could take the pain from Naomi and somehow transfer it to herself, Dorinda would do it in a heartbeat.

“Okay.” Dorinda drops her purse to the floor and sets the containers down on the coffee table. She walks to the couch. Grabbing Naomi by the shoulder, she roughly yanks the younger woman. Naomi rolls over and drops to the ground with a thud.

“Mom!” Naomi looks at her mom with a scowl. “Why did you do that?”

“It’s been 2 weeks since you and Daniel signed the divorce papers. I have given you plenty of space and opportunity to mope around in the dark, but I think it’s time for the pity party to end.”

“2 weeks is not nearly enough time to simply get over the past 9 years.” Naomi argues as she stands up and dusts herself off. 

“I know you’re hurt–”

“No offense, but you and daddy have been married for thirty years, and last time I checked, I don’t have any half siblings conceived within that time, so you cannot fathom my hurt, so you can just skip over any platitudes that might be brewing.”

Dorinda raises an eyebrow. “You’re upset, so I’m going to ignore your wildly inappropriate and condescending tone, and give you a one time pass.”

“I’m sorry,” Naomi murmurs, flopping back down on her couch. She averts her mother’s gaze because she can feel the older woman staring daggers at her. “I’m just very...out of sorts these days, like I’ve been hit by a bus and then put on a rollercoaster.”

“Now I may not understand divorce, but I can empathize with what you’re feeling.” Dorinda sits down next to Naomi.

“I know everyone thought I was crazy to marry Daniel in the first place, and I’m so sure there's no love lost on your part, but I really went into this with the best intentions. And I thought he did too.”

Dorinda runs her thumb across Naomi’s cheek, collecting a falling tear. “People suck, and life is full of crappy people who do crappy things. And I’m sorry that you had to be a victim to one of them.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m sure it feels like the easiest thing in the world to curl into a ball and stay holed up in this apartment, but you are so much stronger than that. And Daniel Thompson does not deserve the right to reduce you to this. If you want to mope on this couch for the rest of your life, then you do it on your own accord, not because of him. But in my personal opinion, I think you’re too wonderful to become a piece of furniture.”

“What do you suppose I do?” Naomi challenges with a shrug. “I don’t how to do anything other than be his wife.”

“Well, that’s not true at all. But first, you’re going to take a shower, crack open a window to let some fresh air in, and then you’re going to do something that helps you vent. Rip a pillow, scream, scratch Daniel’s face out of his pictures, whatever you want. And then you and I are going to sit on this couch and have a very good cry. And I mean an all out, snotty nose, puffy eyes, sore throat type of cry.”

Getting off of this couch sounds like a feat within itself, one that Naomi doesn’t know if she has the strength or energy to do.

“That’s the first step,” Dorinda says, playing with a strand of Naomi’s hair. “That’s the hard part, but once you do that, I promise it gets easier. You just have to trust yourself and put one foot in front of the other, okay?”

A heavy silence falls on the room and Dorinda waits on bated breath for her daughter to respond. She’s never seen Naomi like this, the life completely drained out of her.

Naomi’s voice comes out small and unrecognizable, but she answers nonetheless. “Okay.”

~v~

One month passes and things finally start progressing for Naomi. She won’t say her life is back to normal, but she’s no longer glued to her couch, so her family considers it a win.

It’s a nice day, so Dorinda forces her to leave the comfort of her apartment and spend the day with her family.

“One of your father’s friends is coming over, so be nice,” Dorinda scolds, passing her daughter a handful of silverware so they can set the dinner table.

“Oh God, mom if this is some politician asking for a donation, I can’t–”

“No politicians,” Dorinda interjects. “Naveen is in Baltimore for a few days, so we invited him to have dinner with us.”

Dr. Naveen Banerji has been friends with Naomi’s dad for as long as she can remember. While Naveen was doing his residency at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore, Steven Valentine came in for a broken arm, and they’ve been close friends ever since, even when Naveen had to move to Boston.

Naomi adores the older man, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the best doctors in the country.

“Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Naomi asks.

Dorinda shrugs. “I wanted to see if you could leave that apartment of yours without external motivation.”

“And I did,” Naomi says. “I want a medal.”

“And I want a private island somewhere in the Caribbean.”

There’s a knock at the door that startles them out of their banter. Before either one of them can reach the door, Naomi’s dad beats them to it.

“Naveen, you old man!” Steven greets. “How are you?”

“If I’m old, you’re ancient!” Naveen shoots back with a chuckle. His eyes fall on Dorinda and Naomi, who have joined them in the foyer. “Dorinda! You’re as lovely as ever.”

“Naveen, it’s so wonderful to see you again.”

“And Naomi, I haven’t seen you since your med school graduation.” Naveen sizes her younger before hugging her. “Gosh, I can’t believe you’re so grown up now. What happened to the little 5 year old who used to quiz me on the periodic table?”

“Hi, Naveen,” Naomi greets brightly.

“It smells delicious in here. Don’t tell me you made a huge fuss over me, Dorinda.”

“What? It’s not every day we get to see you.” Dorinda takes Naveen’s coat. “Go sit down, you’re here just in time. Dinner will be out in 10 minutes, tops.”

It doesn’t even take that long, and soon the Valentine family plus Naveen are all gathered around the dining room table, passing around bowls and platters of food.

“So Naveen, I heard you got a promotion recently and you’re now the Chief of Medicine at Edenbrook.”

“Yeah, my days of practicing are over.”

“Do you like the job?” Naomi asks.

Naveen nods. “I love it. I have more free time, which is a plus. And there’s still so much to do, so it fuels the adrenaline junky in me. What about you, Dr. Valentine?” He smiles. “What’s it like being an attending?”

“Demanding,” Naomi answers.

“Any interesting cases recently?”

“No.” Naomi‘s girl scrapes across her plate as she awkwardly shuffles her food around. “I, uh...I’m on a personal leave right now. I haven’t been to the hospital in weeks.”

Naveen knows all about the nasty divorce, so he nods sympathetically and doesn’t press the subject. “You were chief resident last year, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She’s being modest,” Dorinda says. “She was at the top of her cohort.”

“Of course she was.” Naveen takes a sip of his drink, but his eyes are still trained on Naomi, wheels turning. “How do you like the hospital you’re working at?”

“It’s good.”

“Do you think that it’s the best fit for you? Are you being pushed to your limits? Are your superiors still checking in with you? You’re an attending now, but they should still care about your development.”

Naomi feels overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions. What is this, a job interview?

“Slow down Naveen, what’s with the interrogation?”

“What? I care about you, and I care about your potential. I just hope it’s not being wasted.”

“It’s not,” Naomi assures him.

“You know, there will always be a standing invitation for you to join the team at Edenbrook,” Naveen tells her.

A wide grin forms on Dorinda’s face and before Naomi can respond, she does. “She accepts!”

And that’s when the lightbulb turns on above Naomi’s head. She glances from Naveen to her parents. “Did you guys set this up?”

Naveen raises an eyebrow at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Did my parents ask you to come here and give me a job offer?”

“No, I’m here because I have a conference to attend in Baltimore tomorrow, so I thought I’d drop in. No one asked me to give you a job offer. You’re intelligent, you’re compassionate, you’re a good doctor, and I wouldn’t be a very smart Chief if I didn’t at least try to poach you for myself.”

“And she accepts!” Dorinda continues.

“Mom, stop it!” Naomi scolds.

“You’ll get a chance to work with me,” Naveen adds. “You’ll get a chance to work with Dr. Ethan Ramsey, my protege. We’re a level 1 trauma center, and Boston is a gorgeous city.”

The last thing Naomi needs right now is a new job in a new city, not while her life is in complete shambles. Besides, her entire life is in DC. It’s where her entire support system resides. Functioning without them sounds daunting.

“I really appreciate the offer Naveen, but that is definitely a lot to take in and consider.”

“Of course, I understand. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, nor do I expect any sort of answer.” Naveen sighs. “How much longer are you going to be off of work?”

“A few more weeks.”

“How about you come to Boston, and at least check out the hospital?” He suggests. “No strings attached, and you can stay at my lake house because I’m hardly ever there and there’s tons of space, so someone should enjoy it. At the very least, I think seeing it will at least be a fun experience and a nice vacation.”

“If I say yes to the trip, can we pause this conversation for the rest of the evening?”

Naveen nods. “I think that’s a fair exchange.”

“Then you have yourself a deal.”

Naomi relaxes and slouches slightly in her seat. When she gets home later on, she has a mission to complete: research the hell out of Boston and Edenbrook Hospital.

~v~

Boston is a beautiful city full of history, culture, and interesting attractions. Naomi appreciates the hustle and bustle of the city life, and the fact that everyone is always on the go – a vast difference from the quiet and serenity of Naveen’s lake house in Plymouth.

And Edenbrook is an entirely different beast. It is much larger than she expects, as the pictures don’t do it justice. The building is at least 7 stories tall to her naked eye, sleek and modern.

Naomi silently marvels as she watches doctors and nurses bustle around, chatting quietly amongst each other.

“Wow.” Is all she can say.

“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Naveen asks rhetorically, smiling at Naomi’s childlike wonder.

“This hospital is amazing,” is what she finally settles on when words finally come back to her.

“Follow me, we have an unofficial tour to go on.”

Naomi follows Naveen through the hospital. She struggles to keep up as she tries to memorize the complex layout, because this hospital is large and built like a multi-level maze. 

Naveen rattles off information and fun facts as they pass through the pediatric department, they stop to stare at the newborns in labor and delivery, all small and wriggly, and they even manage to sneak into the OR to watch Harper Emery perform a craniotomy, something Naomi compares to a religious experience.

“I can’t believe I just watched The Harper Emery perform surgery!” Naomi squeals with delight as she and Naveen step out of the gallery and leave the OR. “Please tell me that wasn’t a dream.”

“I didn’t peg you for a surgery fanatic,” Naveen teases.

Naomi scoffs. “I’m not, but I respect Dr. Emery. You don’t have to be a basketball fan to appreciate that Michael Jordan is one of the greats.”

“That’s a fair comparison.”

The two of them continue their leisurely stroll around the hospital, making their way to the internal medicine department.

“This is where you’d spend a good chunk of your time, if you wanted to work here, of course.”

“Is it a large department?” Naomi asks quietly. There are a few patients filling out paperwork ahead of their appointments and she doesn’t want to disturb them.

“It is. We have a lot of doctors here so you can spend that extra one-on-one time with your patients, and you aren’t just rushing them out the door to get to your next appointment.”

“That’s good to know.”

Naveen’s pager goes off and he checks it before sighing. “The life of a Chief is never dull. I have to go take care of something downstairs, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. Do you think you can occupy yourself in the meantime?”

“Of course.” Naomi shoos him away. “Take your time.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Naomi watches as he walks away, until she can no longer see him through the crowds of people. Once he’s truly gone, she continues her slow stroll through the halls.

Edenbrook seems like an amazing hospital and a great place to work, but she’s not sure if she can see herself staying.

Can she really pack up and move more than 400 miles away from her entire family, and the only life she’s ever known? And is she the type to run away when life gets tough? What will everyone say? “Oh, poor girl gets left by her husband and had to flee the city.”

But what’s stopping you? The little voice in her head asks, and it’s technically right. She looks down at her left hand, zeroing in on the ring-less finger with a deep tan line, a very prominent reminder of what’s definitely not waiting for her back in DC. No husband, no kids, nothing but an empty and quiet condo.

When she filed for divorce, Naomi swore to herself that running off to city hall to get married would be the first and last wild and impulsive thing she’d ever do. And taking a job offer on a whim in Boston is teetering dangerously close to that “wild and reckless” category.

But she’s pulled out of her thoughts when someone gasps loudly beside her. Whipping her head around, Naomi watches as a middle aged woman falls out of her seat and collapses onto the ground.

That sends the waiting area into a frenzy as fellow patients panic and crowd around the woman like she’s some sort of zoo exhibit, and nurses try their best to assess the situation and ask for help.

“Everyone, step back!” Naomi orders, a serious expression covering her face. “I’m a doctor!”

Before Naomi can even reach the woman, another doctor rushes over, kneeling down beside her. He lifts her wrist and pressed two fingers to it. 

“Her pulse isn’t weak. She’s unresponsive.”

His face scans the crowd and Naomi inwardly gasps as she realizes that it's Ethan freaking Ramsey! In any other situation, she’d be freaking out and fan-girling over him.

He spots her and points. “You. Get in here.”

Naomi bites down on her tongue and resists the urge to get snappy with him. She’s not a puppy that can get summoned on command. But she remembers that a woman’s life is on the line and her own hang ups can wait.

“Right away, Doctor!”

With practiced ease, Ethan lifts the woman up and places her on a gurney that’s been rolled over by a nurse. Within seconds, Naomi is at his side.

“What was she coming in for?” He asks, hoping someone can answer his question. “Did she fill out a form yet?”

A nurse clears his throat before answering, “No, she had just walked in.”

That’s not the answer Ethan was hoping for and he frowns. “If we don’t figure out what’s wrong with her fast, she’s gonna die on this gurney.” He spares a quick glance at Naomi. “Check her B.P.”

A nurse hands Naomi a blood pressure cuff and she slips on around the woman’s arm. After pumping it a few times, she checks the numbers. They’re horrible.

“It’s plummeting. She’s hypotensive,” she explains. “We’ve gotta get fluids in her, now.”

Ethan nods, agreeing with the assessment. Another nurse sets up an I.V. while Naomi checks over the woman once more. She notices a bruise on her elbow, one that wasn’t there a minute ago, and her fingertips are turning blue.

“Doctor, look at her fingers,” Naomi says, getting Ethan’s attention. “I think it’s a sign of low oxygen saturation.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “You think or you know? We really don’t have time for the guessing game.”

“I know,” Naomi assures him, her tone coming out rougher than she intended. She’s not a fan of being second guessed, especially by someone who specifically requested her to assist.

“Good. Did you notice the bruise?” Naomi nods. “A bruise forming that quickly suggests that this woman is a hemophiliac.” Ethan slides his stethoscope from around his neck and hands it to Naomi. “Check her lungs, quickly.”

Naomi does what she’s told and takes a closer listen to her woman’s lungs. 

“Nothing on her left side, and the right side is struggling. She’s going to suffocate!”

Oh God, how did she get roped into this? This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation away from all of the stress of her life, now Naomi is watching a woman suffocate to death.

Dr. Ramsey isn’t having the same struggle as she is, as he remains calm, though everyone around them is on high alert. “We’ve got a Code Blue,” he says, his voice steady. A nurse hands him a bag mask and he starts delivering air to the woman.

Naomi watches as he does that, trying to remain calm. She closes her eyes and attempts to steady her thoughts, and figure out what’s wrong with the woman.

“Hey, either help out or leave, but I don’t need you here doing nothing,” Ethan says, interrupting her thoughts.

Naomi flinches a bit at the interruption, but she continues thinking. Low oxygen, hemophilia, deflated lungs. What could it possibly be?

As she’s going through the options, it hits her. “It’s a hemothorax!”

Ethan nods, confirming the diagnosis. “A blood vessel ruptured…”

“...and it’s blocking her lungs from expanding any further,” Naomi finishes. She looks around. They’re in a crowded waiting room, not the OR. “But we can’t do anything here!”

“There’s no time to get her to the OR, we’ll have to do an emergency thoracotomy to drain her pleural cavity.” Ethan points to a nurse. “You! I need a chest tube and a scalpel, now!”

A nurse rushes over immediately, placing the items in Naomi’s hands. She barely has time to register the fact that she’s about to perform an emergency procedure on an unconscious woman, and she’s not even supposed to be in doctor-mode today before Ethan is lifting the woman’s shirt 

“We’re gonna need a local anesthetic to–”

“We don’t have time for any of that!” Ethan snaps. “Do it now, or she’s going to die, and it’ll be on you!”

Naomi gulps and wills herself to calm down. Her pulse is racing and she can hear her heart beating in her ears.

But she breathes deeply. She doesn’t have time to panic, not when there’s a life on the line. She steadies her hand, and makes the incision at the woman’s rib cage.

“There you go, nice and easy,” Dr. Ramsey coaches. “Now insert the tube.”

Naomi insets the chest tube into the incision. Slowly but surely, the blood starts draining out of the woman’s chest, and she gasps, breathing again.

The woman, now conscious again, mutters something unintelligible, but she’s alive and that’s all that matters.

“We...we did it.”

The older physician ignores Naomi, instead turning to the nurse that’s been helping them. “She’s stable. Get her into surgery, but she’s stable.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

The nurses take the patient away, while the crowd applauds them for the heroic save. Eventually the crowd disperses, everyone going back to what they were previously doing.

The relief that floods through Naomi’s body is all-consuming. She hasn’t felt this euphoric in a long time. And to experience it with someone as amazing as Doctor Ramsey only elevates things. Doctors can only dream of working with him, and she actually got to do it, even if it was on a whim.

Maybe working at Edenbrook isn’t such a bad idea.

She turns back to Ethan, a giddy grin wide across her face. “Doctor...that was…amazing!”

“You’re right. It’s pretty amazing you didn’t get her killed.”

That takes the wind out of her sails almost instantly. “Wait, what?”

“Your examination was slow and superficial. And your scalpel technique?” He scoffs in derision. “Amateur at best.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Naomi asks. “I’m sorry, I’m not at work today, this entire situation threw me for a loop, and a waiting room definitely isn’t a proper setting to do any of what we just did. And if I’m so amateur at my job, what prevented you from stepping in at any time since you’re so much better than I am? Because if my recollection is correct, I did most of the work, while you stood there like some glorified overseer.”

“You’re the one who yelled out that you were a doctor. I wanted to test your mettle.”

Her blood boils in her veins at his words. So this is why they say never meet your heroes. Because they turn out to be righteous assholes.

“My mettle is just fine. You say it’s a miracle I didn’t kill her, I say she’s alive because of me. And another thing, I don’t need you testing my mettle when a patient’s life is on the line. Next time, save the little power trip.”

Ethan’s nostrils flare at her words. No doctor in their right mind has ever spoken to him like this. He stares down at the woman, almost a foot shorter than him, and she’s staring up at him with just as much intensity. “Now I don’t know who you think–”

“Naomi, there you are!”

Ethan’s tirade is cut short by the sound of Naveen’s voice echoing through the halls. He looks up to see his mentor and boss headed towards them.

“I’m sorry that took longer than expected Naomi,” Naveen says once he’s finally close enough. He looks her up and down. Her blouse and pants are ruined, covered in that woman’s blood. “Hue hat happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Naveen,” Naomi assures him. “It’s not mine. And it’s a very long story, one I’ll tell you once I’m out of these clothes.”

“Very well.”

Ethan watches as the two of them casually converse. He’s known Naveen for well over a decade, and not once has he seen or heard of this woman. How does Naveen know her well enough for them to be on a first name basis?

“You two know each other?” He asks, interrupting their conversation.

Naveen nods. “Oh yes, we go way back. Ethan, this is Dr. Naomi Valentine. Naomi, this is Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”

Naomi gives Ethan a tight smile. She’s no longer in the mood for pleasantries. “Charmed.”

“Likewise, Dr. Valentine.”

“Naomi here is from DC, and I’m trying to convince her to come to Edenbrook,” Naveen explains. He knows better than anyone how much Naomi admires Ethan’s work. Maybe he’ll be able to help him convince the younger woman to accept a job at Edenbrook. “It’s so perfect that you guys met and became acquainted, because I actually think she’d be an excellent addition to the diagnostics team.”

Ethan’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at that statement. “What?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

After a quick Google and a few reviews, you decide on a brand. You pick a box off the shelf. It should do the job as long as you apply it properly. You’re not so worried about yourself. 

Something drops along the edge of your vision and you peek over. A man walks away ignorant of the card left behind. You hurry to scoop it up. 

“Excuse me, sir, you dropped--” You click to a stop in your heels as he faces you. You smile as he mirrors your expression. “Peter!?” 

“Hey, Missie.” His brown eyes beam back at you. “What are the odds?” 

“It’s been so long. Um...” you look down at the card then wiggle it at him. “You dropped this.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” 

He accepts the card with a dimple in his cheek. You look at it and realise it’s nothing special. Just a loyalty card from Roasters. It is a great shop. 

“Haven’t heard from you since the paper. You said you’d keep in touch.” He shifts his stance so another customer can squeeze by. 

“Yeah, uh, I meant to. I’ve been really cruddy at keeping up. Work is so busy and--” 

“What’s that for?” He quickly redirects as he points at the box in your hands. “You dye your hair? Wouldn’t guess it.” 

“Oh, no it’s for... my boss,” you giggle. 

“Your boss. Right. I’m sorry, what exactly do you do now?” 

“I’m a PA. My boss is just demanding. That’s all. But it’s good pay and it keeps me on my toes.” 

“Ah, I left the paper too. Started my own photography business.” He explains. 

“I saw that on Insta! I follow you. Your stuff is so good.” 

“You follow me but you don’t message,” he crosses his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout. You rattle the box in your hands. You don’t want to be abrupt but you really can’t keep Mr. Hansen waiting too long and you still need to grab shampoo. 

“We should catch up. How about dinner? What are you doing tonight?” Peter asks. 

“Oh, er, nothing.” 

“Great. How about Zak’s? That old sandwich shop near the paper. I remember your fave; the spicy italian with extra pickles.” He grins triumphantly. 

“Sure, that sounds awesome. Just... send me a message, okay? I gotta get back to my boss.” 

“Sure, don’t let her work you too hard,” he steps out of your way. 

“He,” you correct him. “It’s not hard work, just a lot.” 

You sweep down the aisle and grab a clarifying shampoo on your way to the checkout. Even just a few minutes is too long for Mr. Hansen and in his state, you don’t expect him to be any calmer. All you can hope for is that the remover works out. 

Back at the office, you measure your dread. It won’t be that bad. You can fix this. Maybe. You grabbed some dye too, hoping maybe you might be able to even everything out after. 

You drop your purse on your desk and flit over to Mr. Hansen’s office. You knock and hear him groaning from inside. As you enter, he’s bent over his lap, holding his head. He sits up so fast his chair teeters. He faces your chirpy greeting. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you sing, “I got everything we need.” 

“Why the fuck are you so cheery?” 

As you look at him, like really look at him, you find it hard not to laugh. He really does look awful. He’s not exactly your type but he isn’t too bad most days. The black dye just washes him out. He looks like Dracula if he was in a 70s adult flick. 

“So, we need to wash your hair. I figured we can use your sink. I even grabbed a towel.” 

“You think of everything, don’t you?” He hisses. 

“Sir, I think we can fix your hair.” 

He scowls and stands. He shakes his head and slinks to the en suite bathroom. You follow with the bag of goodies. He looms with arms crossed as you put it on the counter and unpack. 

“You can put the towel around your collar to keep the remover from dripping. Tuck it in to--” 

Before you can finish, his shirt is half unbuttoned. You turn to unbox the remover and peel the seal of the bottle as you quiet. Whatever’s easier, you suppose. He hangs his shirt on the back of the door and comes back to you. You get a glimpse of his chest hair in the mirror. 

“Alright, erm, bend over the sink and we need to wash your hair. How about you put the towel over your eyes--” 

“I can handle it.” He snatches the towel and folders it over his forehead and eyes. He bends over the sink. His broad shoulders strain as his muscles tighten. “Don’t fuck up my hair.” 

You want to tell him you don’t think it can get worse but you know better. You take one of the paper cups from the stack and crank on the faucet.  You feel the temperature before you fill the cup and carefully pour it over his head. You wet all the strands and squirt shampoo onto his hair. You lather it up, scratching his scalp with your nails. 

“Mmmph,” he purrs as your work away. You smile. He’s a bit like a cat. Cranky but manageable. 

You rinse his hair methodically. You make sure not to get any near his face as you use your hand to redirect the water. When you finish, you help him cover his hair with the towel. 

You roll in his chair from the office and have him sit. You rub the moisture of his hair with the towel and drape it around his shoulders. You pull the gloves on and mix up the remover in the bottle then take the comb out of the box. You go to Mr. Hansen as he sits, looking despondent. 

“It fucking reeks,” he wrinkles his nose at the odour. 

“I did warn you but once we rinse it out, you’ll be good as new.” You comb his hair back, then forward, and pull out a thin section. You slather it on precisely as you work through the strands. 

As you pay close attention to your task, you feel the tension ease from him. When you get through the longer pieces on the top of his head, you push the back again. You use your gloved fingers to do his sides, rubbing in the remover on the buzzed stubble. As you do, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 

Well, it’s better than him being angry. This might be the most relaxed you’ve ever seen Mr. Hansen. 

[krisdreaming]

heY KUROO DRUNK GIRL STORY PART 3 PLEASE???????🥺

Eheheh I know, I know, it took me long enough, but here it is!!! The thrilling conclusion ;) This is pretty much just a self-indulgent first date with Kuroo scenario and it got really long oops :’) (tagging @igetcarriedawaywithyou bc I had to screenshot your ask - lmk if you want me to untag you!)

Part 1 | Part 2

-

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You announce to your roommate, fidgeting with your phone in your lap as you wait for 6:00. She shakes her head.

“I don’t understand why you’re so nervous. You weren’t this nervous before your last date.”

You laugh wryly. “Yeah, and look what happened then!” You think back for the hundredth time, and shudder at the though of what could have happened - if it weren’t for Kuroo.

“I have a feeling this Kuroo guy isn’t going to stand you up.” She stabs her spoon into her bowl of ice cream, taking a giant spoonful. 

“I know.” You sigh. “I know!” You repeat more convincingly, a small smile coming to your face. You’ve been texting with Kuroo almost non-stop for the past week, and you haven’t felt this way about a guy for a while. If you’re honest, that’s what scares you the most.

“Besides, he’s picking you up here, and you’re not even going to a bar.” Her words are muffled around the ice cream in her mouth. “And you’re already half in love with him.”

“Am not.” You say, a little too quickly. She’s gracious enough to let it go with nothing more than a sly smile. Of course you’re not in love with him yet. You’ve only met him in person once, and circumstances were far from ideal. But with time - who knows? You shake your head before you can go too far down that rabbit trail.

Your phone chimes. He’s waiting for you outside. You swallow back the sudden bubble of nausea and get to your feet.

“Well, he’s here. I’ll see you later!” You give your roommate a wave and head for the door.

“Don’t hurl!” She calls after you cheerfully. You shut the door behind you without giving her a second glance.

“Hey.” Kuroo pushes away from the wall where he’d been waiting when he catches sight of you. He flashes you a smile that you can’t help but return. You’d been secretly wondering if he’d do something about his hair for your date, but it looks just as unruly as it had that night. For some reason, there’s something comforting about that fact, and you feel your nerves slowly begin to lessen.

“Hi.” You greet him, falling into step beside him.

“I do have to give you a disclaimer.” He says immediately. “We’re not exactly going to a coffee shop, but there’s this really cool place I want to show you. You’ll love it.” He promises. “We’ll have to take the train, though, if that’s alright with you.” He knocks his arm against yours.

“Fine with me.” You smile. After he learned that you’d only recently moved to the city, he insisted that he had to show you some of his favorite spots. You’re curious to see just what he has in mind.

The train is full, so you both end up standing. You’re used to being packed into the train at times, it comes with living in such a large, busy city, but you’re especially aware of him so close to you. When the train lurches, he has a hand at your elbow to make sure that you don’t lose your balance. You flash him a quick smile. Somehow, in the short time you’ve known him, it seems he’s always the one looking out for you.

By the time you get off the train, twilight has just begun to fall. The city is bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, and it plays across Kuroo’s face. You duck your head when you realize he’s caught you staring, but all he does is smile and reach for the back of his neck.

 You walk a few blocks from the train station. “This way.” He guides you, and you take a turn down a quieter street, with fewer apartment buildings and business storefronts and more small shops. You’ve never been down this way before. It seems like a nice area to spend a Sunday afternoon.

“There’s a lot of cool places around here.” Kuroo speaks up. “They have great ramen there.” He points to a small restaurant, one you wouldn’t have even noticed if it wasn’t pointed out to you. “Oh, and that’s an amazing little coffee shop. They have the best brownies.” The small shop has a hand-painted sign in the window. You look at him in amazement.

“How do you find out about all of this stuff?”

He grins. “Lots of exploring. I just really enjoy it, you know? Finding all the little hole-in-the-wall places that most people don’t know about. It’s like a hidden treasure. There’s more places like that than you think.”

“Oh.” You breathe. “That sounds like so much fun.”

“Yeah?” He knocks his arm against yours again. You aren’t sure if it’s intentional, but you still feel your face getting warm. “Well I’ll have to take you sometime. I drag Kenma out with me most weekends.” Kenma - his best friend you note mentally. He’s talked about him before.

“I would really like that.” You nod. Your first date isn’t over, and he’s already talking about the second, as naturally as could be. You can’t help but smile to yourself. Whatever nerves and uncertainties you had been feeling earlier today, they’re completely dissolving.

“It’s just a few more blocks ahead.” He says, and you watch in front of you, your curiosity building. Finally, you approach a park of sorts, and as soon as you pass through the entrance you stop, looking around yourself in wonderment. There’s a walking path, and all along it are trees strung full of fairy lights. Their glow illuminates the intricately carved statues interspersed between them. There are a few small vendor carts as well, selling coffee and various festival foods. After a few moments of taking it in, you feel Kuroo’s hand nudge yours.

“So, what do you think?” He leans toward you and asks in a hushed voice.

“This is beautiful.” You breathe out. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Yeah, I found this park a few years ago. They have different art installations throughout the year, and they’re all pretty cool. This one’s gotta be my favorite, though.” He motions toward the food vendors. “What do you want? Take your pick.” 

You walk slowly between the stands before finally making your selection. “Thanks, Kuroo.” You finally say, when you have your treat in hand and the two of you have begun to make your way down the footpath. 

“What kind of date would I be if I didn’t buy you anything to eat?” He brushes it off with a wave of his hand.

“No, I mean… for everything. For this.” You wave your hand at your surroundings. “It’s got to be one of the coolest dates I’ve ever been on.”

“One of?” He gives you a teasing grin. “I’ll work on that for next time.” That’s the moment he knocks his hand against yours again, more purposefully, and you recognize the invitation. You turn your hand palm up, and he slides your hands together, fitting his fingers between yours. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and you smile at him, hoping it can convey everything you can’t put into words.

You walk slowly through the park, taking everything in. You’re talking the whole time. About nothing - about everything. You don’t realize how much time has passed until the lights in the trees flicker out, leaving only the harsher white park lighting. “Guess that’s our cue to leave.” Kuroo chuckles.

The train is much emptier than it had been earlier that evening. Still, you sit close together. Kuroo puts his arm loosely around your shoulders, and you let yourself lean ever-so-slightly into him. He has the same smell you remember from his coat the night you’d met - something warm and comforting that you can’t quite place.

Back in front of your apartment building, it’s finally time to say your goodbyes. Kuroo finally lets go of your hand. You don’t say anything at first, trying to drag it out just a little longer.

“I had a great time tonight.” Kuroo is the one to speak. “Honestly. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m really glad that guy didn’t show up for you last week. Is that insensitive?”

“Maybe.” You laugh. “But I know what you mean. Sure, it might’ve been more ideal if i met you when I was sober, but drunk me is sure glad you showed up when you did.” You pause, and the two of you simultaneously take a step closer together. You giggle softly.

“Don’t go to any more bars alone.” He scolds gently, a soft smile on his face.

You shake your head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

When his face is only inches away from yours, he pauses. “Is this okay?”

You wrap your fingers into the fabric of his coat. “Perfect.” You breathe before tugging him close enough to cover the final distance between you. His kiss is warm and firm, and when you finally pull away, he follows after you for one final peck. He grins.

“Wanna go exploring with me next Saturday?”

You smile back, warmth slowly traveling through your whole body. “I’d love that.”

[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, yours (8) (M)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre:  family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: cursing, mature content, angst

A/N: This one was so easy and fun to write frankly! Thank you so much for letting me know your opinions for the last chap, it motivates me like 1000x more! If you could tell me what you thought about this one as well, it would be nice! Thank you 🎉 And sorry I edited this one, but Im sure there will be typos and sentences that made sense in my head while I edited but they actually dont, apologies! 

Tags:  @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt  @luvhtears @ shesdreaminginoverdose (if you want to be tagged/untagged let me know! Im always open^^)

-

MASTERLIST

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8

Once again, you entered your apartment in silence, except the few times Baekhyun let out a tired, exasperated sigh. Your phone was blowing up with messages from your boss; honestly, you didn't understand why was he even trying to contact you after everything that happened. By now you knew you wouldn't be able to save your work spot. Not after what Baekhyun did. And here you were, worrying about not telling your darn boss about your pregnancy.

In the safety of your apartment full of love, you were able to feel. The hotness of emotions was coming back to your bloodstream, the numbness from throwing up and the adrenaline of the fight -it was all palpable in fading touches.

This time, it was you who let out a tired sigh, but you felt the burn behind your eyes yet again as you made your way to the bedroom to collect some clean clothes before making a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring Baekhyun's angry expression as you passed by him.

Before you could close the door, he murmured your name in a warning.

“What.”

“You know we need to talk, right?” he snapped, turning to you. He spotted your bloodshot eyes, full of unshed tears and he assumed you weren't seeing him properly. He was right.

You saw him blurry like a modern art painting. Pretty, yet so… unreadable, almost worrying at how you couldn't see to the depths of it. “I know.”

At your terse answer, he clenched his jaw and you blinked, letting the tears roll down your cheeks just to see the tick in his jaw, the set of his chin almost scary. “Go,” he sighed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers. “We will talk once you're out of there.”

Without waiting for your response, he turned abruptly but to your surprise, he reached for the front door, swinging it open. You closed your eyes just in time for it to slam shut. And he was gone.

-

Quietly, you took a long shower, thinking he wouldn't be back until… well, until he deemed good to be back. Which could be whenever.

Honestly speaking, you never had such a big, troubling fight before. Never. Yes, you did fight, but he never left you. Not at that hour, anyway. And you were also never pregnant. So this was one of a kind problem you found yourself in, and as you tried not to sob through your entire shower, your mind instead stormed through options you had with what happened.

Except, you had none.

You were out of job.

Your boyfriend, a hapkido master, used violence on your boss.

Your boyfriend could be reported.

You lied to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend… was mad at you. Livid.

Was this the end of your relationship?

No.

He wouldn't let go of you that easily, and the realisation of that made you sob right then and there. The relationship you two shared was stronger than any of your doubts that were scaring you; it was stronger than any bad word, any bad action, because you two were more than that and your connection was stronger than that. As much as it hurt you that he left without telling you, you knew him well enough to know he would be coming back to you. You knew he would forgive you and he wouldn't break up with you. Not when you were carrying his children. Baekhyun was much, much more than an angry emotion and a protective action.

And you were pregnant with him.

Three kids. Three.

“Fuck,” you sighed as you closed your eyes under the hot water, wanting it to drown out all of  your intruding thoughts. 

If there was an issue you two genuinely had to worry about, it was how you would feed them and yourselves. Would you even survive bearing three children till the end? Would you survive giving birth? You were way past the first trimester which meant you were over the dangerous period, but you knew better than that. Bearing one child was a constant risk. Three? Definitely playing with fire.

Not wanting to create a huge water bill, you reluctantly turned off the shower even though your body screamed for more. Tired and aching, you dried yourself up, not bothering to put on a lotion; smells had been playing with your stomach too much and you literally despised and hated the constant throwing up game.

It was just ten minutes after your shower; you were lying in the bed, tucked in and ready to call it a day, when Baekhyun came back. His timing was perfect and it meant he didn't wander off in the dark streets to let his frustrations out. He probably went for a short walk.

Some shuffling later, he appeared in the doorway, the small lamp next to the mattress you were lying on gently illuminating your tired self. You didn't dare to look at your boyfriend, but you knew you had to do it. He was expecting you to. He was not in the place to beg for forgiveness now. If it was anyone, it was you.

Sighing, you pressed your lips together as you sat up slowly, looking him dead in the eyes; those dark eyes that had still some leftover heavy showers in them.

“Baekhyun,” you started and he kept your gaze daringly, leaning against the doorframe. When he didn't speak, you pursed your lips. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you.”

Silence.

“I will need more than that.” Was his cold answer.

“Don't you want to sit down?”

He was quiet for a moment, but then he crossed his arms. You knew better than to test him. When it came to irrational stuff you did, he was using the “I'm older” type of power against you, and you couldn't argue with that. “What did he make you sign?”

Once again, it was quiet. He was burning you with his scorching gaze, and you felt your cheeks heat up in complete embarrassment and self-loathing. But you needed to be honest. “I-I'm not sure if it was in the contract,” you started, trying not to stutter, “but he made me… Ehm, I was not supposed to fall pregnant. In exchange of him promoting me at work.”

As expected, Baekhyun let nothing to be read from his face. “Did you sign the contract and not read what it said?”

Please, make this stop. “Yes. But I really didn't think that-t-that-”

He spoke your name, cold and harsh, obviously upset. “You didn't think what?! Just how irresponsible it is not to read the conditions of a piece of fucking paper that can be used against you, huh?!”

Slowly, you tried to breathe. This was necessary. He had to let it out.

“You could have signed him owning you for all I know! Fucking hell,” he sighed, now running his hand through his hair wildly, turning away from you for a moment before sharply turning back, startling you. “And you just wanted to do it because what- you wanted more money? Is it all about money for you?! Since when did you become so fucking materialistic that you would stand in your own damn dreams!!!”

Tears, tears, tears, and he was completely right. Opening your mouth, he snapped.

“No, don't speak! I don't want to hear it right now! Fuck,” he murmured, and paced in front of you, his jaw set strong. “You weren't even pregnant when it all happened, why would you want to get to more money so badly?!”

“I wanted to provide for us as well!” you shouted back now, but your voice was so shaky you felt like you sounded pathetic. He had to know, though. “We are coming from a low-class background, Baekhyun! Why is it so bad for me to want to do more when I am perfectly able to do so?”

“Because you would have ruined your own dreams while chasing something so artificial!” he shouted back, stepping closer to where you were sitting, but you didn't budge from the sudden movement. “Money was, and money will be! But us creating a family together won't be a forever opportunity! And you were willing to just hang it up for, what, 300.000 won more? Don't be ridiculous! Plus! He is a fucking arsehole! If he isn't touching you up, he is treating you like complete shit; you deserve better than any of this! And if I could have, I would have beaten him up long ago.”

You averted his gaze. His words were driven by his love for you, you knew that much. So as much as you wanted to be offended and hurt, he was hundred percent right. Everything he just threw into your face was correct and you couldn't defend yourself, because he would come at you right away.

“Is this really everything our relationship means to you?” he asked, a bit more quietly, but his tired tone was scarring your heart. You dared to look back at him, to see him staring on the ground, one hand on his hip.

“No,” you said and you cried again, “it isn't and you know it, too.”

“Do you think I am incapable of taking care of us? Of the kids?” he looked at you, huge puppy eyes on full display as he slowly let his guard down. “Because all of this just proves you don't trust me as the breadwinner of this household.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your arguments, but ended up going against it. “Baekhyun, we aren't in a situation where I need to stay home, clean and do nothing while you get to earn money as if it was some easy thing to do. I am, and I will continue to work,” you replied resolutely despised tears rolling down your cheeks, “and it isn't you as a breadwinner, but us.”

The society surely was patriarchal, so if you dared to talk to your father in this manner, he would have slapped you. There was no such thing as a woman who got to go against her husband or brother.

Baekhyun, however, wasn't your father or your brother. He wasn't even your husband, and when you saw his troubled look, he finally let himself sink down on the mattress. He was your kind, loving boyfriend. “I already said this,” he started, “but I am not, and I won't keep you inside the house, locked up, while waiting for me to return to you after work. I won't tell you what to do, you know I never did,” he said in a more friendly manner, but it still beared authority. “I respect you as a woman,” he said, speaking your name softly, “and you are my everything.” His hand reached out to caress your cheek that was still wet from your tears. “I need to see you only smiling, happily, but I cannot accept you lying to me like this again. I thought we had been together long enough for us to earn each other's trust, and you going like that behind my back and signing bullshit was nothing but stupid and irresponsible. Especially because your pregnancy was jeopardized like that. You can't be under stress like that, sweetie.”

Hearing him calling you a pet name, you knew the war was over and he finally was on the positive side. His authoritative voice still kept you on edge, so you didn't throw yourself at him just yet.

“If he kicked you out, which I'm pretty much convinced he did, I wouldn't be against you not working until you give birth.”

“Baekhy-”

“Shh, let me speak, honey,” he said quietly and shuffled himself closer, sitting right opposite you cross-legged  as he took your hands in his. “Listen. I know you know it, but having three babies under your heart is a dangerous situation,” he whispered loudly, bringing your intertwined hands to his lips. “It's dangerous especially for you. You are very tired after work, and you come home late and don't get enough rest. Sukyeong even told me you don't always keep up with your meals, and I don't like it one bit.” The way his lips moved against the skin of your hand was soothing you. “Accept that he threw you out, before I file a lawsuit against him for harassing you and making you sign nonsense contracts, and stay home. Find a part-time job instead, but you need to rest, darling.”

“Baekhyun,” you finally spoke and he hummed, as he let your hands fall to his lap. His eyes were now so gentle and full of worry. “I am so sorry. For everything. I shouldn't have done any of that, but please know I did it with good intentions.”

Baekhyun went silent for a bit, analysing your face, your tired features and pale skin, which only reminded him you had been throwing up today and dealing with the situation in the restaurant. Suddenly, he felt so guilty for making you go through all of it in just one evening, (although you were responsible for it, too). Let alone he just shouted at you for good ten minutes. He couldn't even imagine what other things you must have been feeling the past weeks, given how your body was changing day by day. “It's alright, babe, it's alright. I understand. C'mere,” he whispered, opening his arms and you threw yourself at him, making him almost fall back on his back. You snuggled your face into his neck, and he let out a satisfied breath, caressing your back gently. “I'm sorry for shouting at you. But I'm not sorry for punching that idiot. He deserved it.”

You were looking at the skin on his neck and how it disappeared under his shirt that had the first two buttons undone. “Thank you for standing up for me, honey.”

“My baby,” he murmured lovingly into your hair before he gave it a kiss. “My only baby.”

-

You woke up to slow, gentle caresses on your small belly as your shirt was ridden up just a tiny bit, Baekhyun not wanting to wake you just yet. He was behind you, wanting to spoon you as soon as he washed up and fell in bed next to you last night. It didn't take long for both of you to fall asleep, as surprising as that was. The events tired you out, and he wanted you to sleep as much as you could.

He kissed your clothed shoulder before he nosed your neck and buried his face in your hair, while his caresses didn't stop. Letting his eyes close for a moment, he brought his front just a little closer to you, his leg wrapping around yours that were politely connected. His hand absentmindedly wandered further up before going dangerously low, sending shots of pleasure down your core without even paying attention. You knew he would soon realize his effect on you, because you definitely felt like squirming in his hold.

His hand lazily dragged upwards almost touching the underside of your breast when you couldn't keep it in anymore, breathing in sharply just for his hand to stop right under the-

“Oh, I finally have you awake,” he murmured, his husky voice sending another set of chills down your spine.

You couldn't help but smile, happy you woke up to this. The fluid down there was saying something else, though.

“Slept well?” he murmured into your ear, as he continued dragging his hand up. You groaned softly when he groped your breast as he pushed himself even more into you, and you felt it. He was so ready for you.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, enjoying the massage as he proceeded to nibble on your ear from behind, your eyes closed in pleasure. “You?”

“I realised we didn't keep our promise, babygirl.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when your realised what he was implying.

“So, is my beautiful lady still horny enough to go the remaining two rounds?” His voice was so deep, you felt yourself scrunching your eyes shut, the adrenaline quickly making its way into your bloodstream. “We will take it,” he murmured and this time his hand was going down, down, down, the panties the only barrier from his wandering hand as he lifted the hem of them teasingly, testing just how ready you were for him, “very slowly, my dear.”

His fingers played with you just for few seconds before he pushed his middle finger inside, your mouth opening in a silent moan as you leaned back into him.

“It's so early, but you are already like this,” he continued while your head was swimming, his ministrations nothing short of slow, yet so pleasurable, “all for me.”

Your insides were squeezing painfully, and he wasn't moving faster, nor did he have the intentions. “Baekhyun,” you said, trying not to pant too loudly, “I just want you.”

“Hmm? Speak louder, I'm still sleepy.”

“You're such a tease,” you whispered in disbelief before surprising him by reaching behind you to touch him exactly where he needed you. He hissed, his eyes looking at your profile to see the smirk you had on your face.

“I wanted it to be slow, romantic and all of that,” he mumbled before pushing your hand away while he sat up, causing you to fall on your back. As soon as his hand was out of your panties, you felt a pang of frustration before he covered your body with his, his face close to yours as you tried to calm down from him fingering you so sensually.

“I want none of that,” you replied as you grabbed his face for a heated kiss, “I want you inside me, just about now.”

“Needy, naughty…” he muttered with a flirty smirk as he teased you at your opening, causing both of you to groan. “Are you ready, sweetie?” And he still made sure you were okay with him.

“I'm always ready for you,” you whispered, spreading your legs even more for him, as he pushed himself in, your eyes instantly closing in wonderful pleasure only he was able to give you.

He stayed inside, buried and panting into your hot mouth as he rested his forehead on yours. “Sweetheart, open your eyes for me, hm? I love you, you know that?”

“I know that. And I love you, do you know that?” you reciprocated, smiling up at him only to be rewarded with his smiley eyes as he pushed back before diving right in few more times, where he hit your sweet spot. Moaning loudly, he dragged his face to suck on your neck before he took one of your hands, intertwining them with his as he pushed it up above your head.

“I know that. You are my angel,” he said, finishing it with a guttural groan as he felt you pulsing around him, knowing you were about to cross the edge and he was not far behind you.  “Come for me. We have another round,” he breathed before kissing you passionately, messily, moanily.

You mentioned you wanted none of slow. And in the second round, he gave you just that. Baekhyun became ruthless, just before whispering: “Are you riding?” And he was fast to change positions. He helped you straddle him although you definitely had the energy to move and climb by yourself, given your crazy hormonal drive.

“That was just a warm-up session.” He warned, not waiting for you. Your screams, his groans, the heat, it was all so fucking amazing you were left in a complete bliss. You were fast to catch up to him, moving your hips while he was watching from beneath you, eyes dark, glazed over and completely smitten by you.

“You're the best,” you breathed out as you dragged your hands to you breasts, but Baekhyun wanted none of that. He swiftly sat up, his chest almost pressed to yours while you continuously rode him, up and down,  your hands being pushed aside just to be switched with his as he added his sinful lips to the swell of your breasts.

“You're a goddess, mummy,” he muttered, leaving a wet trail on your chest while his hands squeezed and massaged your mounds.

“Baekhyun!” you scolded, and despite the sweat and the delightful pull in your belly approaching yet again, you blushed; the blush definitely caused by his choice of words.

He looked into your eyes, his ones proud and lustful. “It's true,” he muttered, groaning as you sank down exceptionally hard, almost falling onto his sturdy chest. His hands were now squeezing your sides, helping you out, unable to keep the needy touches to himself when you looked so gorgeous like that. He squeezed your arching body to his sweaty chest.

A quick glance at your swollen belly that he made sure you noticed, his hand came to touch against it and you were gone. He caressed you there gently while swallowing your moans as you grabbed his face, kissing him, your hair falling, creating an intimate curtain just around where your mouths were connected. You still had an unearthly energy to help your boyfriend out to his orgasm, not wanting to be in the ecstasy alone, and as much as Baekhyun needed the release, his hands slid across your sides, holding your hips to stop their movement.

“Enough, baby girl,” he whispered into your mouth, leaning back ever so slightly to see your flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead. “I don't want you to hurt yourself.” He was still panting and you swore to god he looked so handsome with his hair glued to his forehead, puffy cheeks. You might have gotten horny again.

“Come with me,” you insisted, attempting to to move again but he bit his lip, a cheeky glint in his eyes, and he held your back tenderly, moving you to lie on your back, while slipping out of you. Hissing, he stood up quickly.

“I'll be right back.”

Trying to calm your breath, you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling in your aching body. A knowing smile played on your lips; Baekhyun would rather get a cold shower then another orgasm from you, just because he was worried about you. If that wasn't some darn good self-control, you didn't know what it could be.

Just as he promised, he was back soon, a towel in his hands to help you clean up. Once done, he lied back down next to you and you immediately curled up by his chest. “That was amazing.”

“Hmm, you are amazing,” he said. After a little pause, he asked: “You feeling alright?”

“Perfect. But I could go again, you know? You don't have to be so careful with me.”

He snorted as he played with the ends of your hair. “Jeez, you already have my baby! Actually three of them! Slow down, woman.”

You both laughed heartily, and he loved the sound.

“But I want to have youuu, my love,” you whined.

“You have me. You always have me. I'm yours. I'm just simply yours.”

A/N: just to clarify, this isnt the end, we still have quite some things to get through actually - more drama ㅠㅠ! Just didnt want to leave you on a cliffhanger. Hope you liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Any feedback is very much appreciated  🥺 🥺

[whumpbby]

Honestly I -am- an incest survivor and I don’t see most ‘batcest’ as incest and I read and write it and I’m tired of these people speaking for me

Sorry you had to go through bad stuff;/ 

I feel you, I am also tired of being spoken for and then ignored when I don’t agree with the speaker using me as a prop. It’s quite demeaning and overall makes you want to throw your hands up and leave the conversation altogether.

This is a textbook-example of ‘your mileage may wary’. Some people are more sensitive to some things post-trauma, some are less. These things can’t be graded on a scale, and while trauma justifies personal conduct (as it is, you know, very personal) it can’t be reliably used in a conversation or an argument. 

Like, is the fact that my audiovisual triggers are immensely harder to avoid than someone else’s ‘untagged fic’ makes my life oh so much more harder and thus gives me a higher moral ground to start from?  No, of course not, these things are not even comparable. The one thread underneath is the understanding of what a trigger is and what it does to you that puts us both on an even ground.

That was my point in this case. I am a survivor of things (which, out of principle, I am will never disclose on any platform), but they affect me differently than the op, you, or any other survivor, and the reverse is true. I may see their point, but it doesn’t apply to me. They may understand mine, but it doesn’t apply to them, etc. Can’t put trauma on a scale, because it’s not designed to do that. Using it to support personal opinion is valid - after all, we all can only draw from our own experience - but using it to strengthen a demand for others to change their conduct is another thing. It’s very shaky ground where consideration has to be taken on what you’re demanding and how others may chose to accommodate you - and is it worth it for you personally. 

Like, I know people survived trauma and abuse I am not sure I’d be able to cope with - and they are functioning adults who find joy in things other survivors find distasteful. Most interestingly, I know them from places that cater to the dark side of the fandom, imagine that. Are they somehow worse? Less traumatised? Not allowed to speak about their view on the issue than the other side only because they are less affected by it? 

They aren’t, and both sides know it, and then the only way this argument can go is the moral route. “I can’t tell you you are wrong to use your trauma as a counter-argument, because I am doing the same and it would make me a hypocrite. But I can attack your personal values. I can go off on a tangent questioning your morality or understanding, because that will put you on defence.” 

Creating this false image where someone who is coping is somehow lesser, because they just ‘don’t get it’ and shouldn’t get in the way or question the demands, because it doesn’t apply to them so why are they even butting in. And in this case, it does. The demand was changing an already established system that works for most that will affect others’ use of it. Maybe in ways that aren’t trauma-evoking, but it will, and you have to ask yourself why do they have less of a right to things working for them than the instigator? Why do I have to lie about the thing I wrote to the audience with certain expectations and make the system unusable for people with triggers that don’t align - there being quite a lot of Batfam shippers who don’t consider it incest, but are not fine with incest in other combinations. Or these who want to read a JayDick, but without sex, marked as E. Don’t they deserve consideration, too? Don’t they deserve a way to navigate the platform effectively only because one person has a different opinion? Why it’s okay for them to have to expose themselves to things they don’t want to experience (say, an M rating) on the account of someone else’s comfort? 

These are questions that have to be asked, because the op didn’t throw their demand into a vacuum. They came into a part of the fandom predominantly populated by shippers of certain trope and demanded they sacrifice their comfort. And for some people that may be okay, but for some it isn’t and that’s something to think about and consider, not step over in righteous fury.           

Tbh I this issue is so small that I should just ignore it and don’t care - but at the same time it’s things like that that lead to irreversible harm. All the fandom purges started with someone quite reasonably asking for certain content to be hidden from sight. Then once the content was hidden out of courtesy, it was easy to make it look worse - well, it’s hidden so it has to be bad, right? Even the creators are ashamed it, because they are hiding it! And so the goal was to remove the ‘bad content’ entirely, because it’s bad and hidden anyway, so it can’t have much of an audience, right? The audience it does have has to be small and freaky. And then we have to do something about these pesky authors who are clinging to the bad content when people are very reasonably asking for it - so, the platform owners have to start a purge, because they don’t want to be the bad ones, right? 

And it’s usually not a dastardly plan of one person, but these things tend to gather likeminded audience and soon enough the initial point gets lost in the clamour of the righteous. 

The op obviously didn’t want that, in their head the demand makes sense, but every person who insists this thing doesn’t have a potential to be the grain of sand that starts an avalanche of shit is either disingenuous or not mature enough to take part of this discourse. 

[summerwithaniinit]

Hello! The mess on AO3 is about content INVOLVING minors and not minors that may or may not interact with the content

As in fics that talk about children nsfw and worst than that REAL LIFE children in nsfw environment and i mean smut and nasty nsfw

With children

Involving children both fiction and real???

I’m writing to you cause you acted confused on your own post AND cause you seem like a very decent person judging by your blog alone like.. you can see from yourself in the notes of your ao3 post the kind of audience that is supporting it.. literal pædos chanting the “anti” bullshit

Of course i don’t actually know where you stand on this so if you align yourself with maps then don’t mind me have a nice your own bugs bunny meme at you. But if not, yeah. It’s bad and we gotta stand against it. (sorry this came out very long)

i couldn't care less for fictional minors but p*rn of real minors is just 😬🤢🤢🤮

i generally ignore the existence of rpf and that kind of stuff in general so i don't get traumatised for life and it's served me pretty well imo. i'm kinda conflicted about this cause if it gets banned the authors will probably leave it untagged in different fandoms and i really don't wanna be the one having to read a normal looking fic and report it for irl cp and also i don't want it to exist cause imagine looking up your name and finding it on some creepy underage rpf fic (-_-;)・・・

i'm not the best person to think about the best way to deal with this and with everything going on irl rn i usually don't have the time nor energy to have nuanced opinions on this other than reblogging stuff from the people i follow. i've recently tried to tag those opinions into tags like "fiction", "fandom", and "for later" but i've probably left a lot of stuff untagged on tumblr. my views on this are somewhere on the middle; i will ignore it very hard IF it's tagged well enough that i won't catch a whiff of it (and ao3's good at doing that). out of sight out of mind, and that's probably why the irl cp thing got me so confused.

but overtagging is a whole nother can of worms because it just makes tagging harder for tag wranglers on ao3 (who are volunteers) and that's what my post was about anyways. they're trying hard to make sure everything's tagged properly and this influx of trolls will only affect them. the rest of us can just put a hide tags skin or something. it isn't "proving a point" or anything against ao3, it's just making people angry and sad.

this overtagging trend wasn't a "protest" against irl cp tho, it started off as a "protest" against ao3 not taking down "Sexy times with Wangxian". i'll call it stww for convenience's sake. stww was kinda infamous in the mdzs/cql fandom for being really overtagged. around a week or so ago it started adding other fandoms and more tags to it. the author of stww tagged svsss in the fic around 4 days ago and kept adding more fandoms till it reached 8+ fandoms and 1900+ additional tags. ao3 couldn't take it down because it technically hadn't violated it's tos but people got so angry about it that they started overtagging fics to make stuff harder for ao3 and it's volunteers. sometime within those 4 days the author of stww disabled comments on their fic and said something that violated ao3's tos and ao3 took it down. i'm assuming this overtagging thing got adopted as a "gotcha >:D" practice against ao3 in that time too

sorry for rambling over every single sentence of yours, it's just that i haven't gotten to express my opinion like this

Edit: someone says irl cp is against the TOS

[sunsetcurve]

oh, we’re not promised tomorrow

Summary: They’d been twelve and sitting on the castle's rooftop at twilight, and he'd told her the story like he'd recited it by heart. His father had unknowingly killed a witch's familiar on a hunting trip. In retaliation, she'd placed a curse on him—his firstborn child would die before his twenty-first birthday. Henry’s parents had searched tirelessly for a cure, but the closest they could find was this: a crystal from Guardian Lake, which would protect him from harm until its magic ran out. 

This, it turns out, happens sooner than they thought it would.

Fandom: Henry Danger

Relationships: Henry Hart/Charlotte Page-Bolton

Word Count: 2,477

A/N: oh man, i’ve been sitting on this idea for way too long. this was incredibly fun to write, but also very very difficult because it does get pretty angsty. rated T for death, swearing, blood (it’s not graphic i promise). the title is from the song “like i’m gonna lose you”. hope you enjoy!

Dedications: as always, please please please don’t feel any pressure to read this! i know life gets crazy. also, if you want to be tagged/untagged in the future, just let me know! @rorythevambire @up-the-tube @mychenrymadness @ciara-knightly @cactus-con @henryhearts @henry-p-fart @taylorswiftrulestheworld @bijerbear @just-a-j-reallly @shadows-and-starlight

* * *

She should've seen this coming.

To be honest, Charlotte's never really been good at making predictions; that was always her mother's forte. She's tried to make sense of the wisping smoke in crystal balls and the tea leaves at the bottom of her cup more times than she can count, but it's only ever left her confused and frustrated.

Other types of magic actually make sense. There's a comforting sort of precision in having to memorize the pronunciation of a spell perfectly in order to get it to work, or having to carefully measure every ingredient in a potion to keep it from ending in total disaster (that's happened to Charlotte more than a few times, but she's always said that failure is the best learning tool anyway). But fortune-telling? Cards, astrology, dream-speak? She's never really understood it.

Still, though. There were other signs that pointed in this direction, ones that were far less mystical, far more real. She just didn't see them.

It's a collection of small things, really, clustered together in the past couple of weeks. They're moments that are easy to brush off at the time, especially with Henry's insistence that it's nothing, he's okay, he's always fine.

He comes back from knight training once with blood trailing from his nose, even though no one's laid a hand on him. He stumbles in the hallway and sways like he's going to pass out, and then brushes her off by saying he's just tired. He has dizzy spells, and she tells herself to believe him when he says that there's just "something going around", even though she hasn't seen it herself, even though none of the health potions she slips into his morning goblets seem to be working. He's fine, she convinces herself. They're isolated incidents. It's nothing.

And it's easy to pretend that's the truth, up until the moment his legs give out from underneath him.

"Henry!" Charlotte cries out, and her knees hit the stone floor just moments after his do. She puts her hand on his shoulder, steadying him, while the other comes up to cup his cheek and he's cold, cold like the crisp autumn air outside and the hard grey stone beneath them.

"I'm fine," he sort of says, sort of wheezes—his breath comes stumbling out in a tight, choked gasp, and then he's coughing and there's a splatter of scarlet in front of them.

Something in her chest clenches. "Bullshit," she hisses, and he coughs more in response and the pieces start to come into place and align like the planets and she hates it, wishes she could chalk this all up to something, anything else, but there's something thrumming in the back of her mind that knows she can't ignore it anymore.

"Show me your necklace." Her voice is soft but tight, more so than she intends it to be, and maybe that's why he doesn't argue, just fumbles with the leather cord around his neck and brings the pendant out from where it's tucked under his shirt.

She remembers the first day he'd shown it to her. They’d been twelve and sitting on the castle's rooftop at twilight, and he'd told her the story like he'd recited it by heart. His father had unknowingly killed a witch's familiar on a hunting trip. In retaliation, she'd placed a curse on him—his firstborn child would die before his twenty-first birthday. Henry’s parents had searched tirelessly for a cure, but the closest they could find was this: a crystal from Guardian Lake, which would protect him from harm until its magic ran out.

The white stone comes to rest next to his heart. A sharp inhale passes through Charlotte's lips, and she reaches out to brush her fingers against it while her heart plummets. The gem's soft glow has faded into nothing, and now it sits dull on the end of the necklace.

"The protection charm was supposed to last until you were eighteen," she says, quiet. "We were supposed to have more time."

Henry's laugh is mirthless, somewhere in between bitter and exhausted. "Yeah, I guess we're fresh out. Unless you've got a time spell hidden somewhere?"

There are three things that sorcerers are never supposed to tamper with: love, death, and time. She knows he's not asking, but right now, Charlotte thinks she'd break every rule if it meant saving him.

"Can you walk?" she says, urgent, and he lets her pull him to his feet and sort of staggers, but doesn't fall. She takes his hand and tugs him behind her, trying not to move too fast for him while her entire body tells her to go.

It's slow, too slow, but they make it down the hallway and reach her study and she helps Henry sit down in her chair as she starts tugging books off the shelves and rifling through the pages. With a wave of her hand, they float in the air around her, circling her as she scrambles through them one by one. She's been trying to decipher the solution to this stupid curse ever since the day he told her about it, so there's sections in her books that are marked off, places with notes scrawled in the margins. There's the haphazard beginnings of something that could've panned out, if only she'd had more time. She was supposed to have more time.

The tension is hot and stinging beneath her skin. She tosses novels behind her to fall to the floor, pages splayed open and bent against the ground and maybe in any other moment she'd care about the state of them but right now it doesn't matter. All she cares about is the fact that Henry's breathing is becoming more labored by the second, and she should've seen this coming and now there's no time to fix this—

"Char," he says softly behind her, and her hands quiver hard enough that all the floating books drop in a ring at her feet. "It's okay.”

She bites the inside of her cheek and whirls around before she can stop herself. "Don't say that!" she snaps. "There's nothing about this that's okay! You're not—I'm not going to let you die like this, Henry Hart, I'm not—"

"Look, it's over. There's nothing left." He sounds defeated. His gaze darts from the shelves to the ceiling, anywhere but to hers, and she wishes that he'd yell, or cry or scream or something, but instead he's just sitting there with his brown eyes huge and soft and resigned.

Her shoulders are tight, her jaw clenched so hard it hurts. "How can you be so calm about this?" she demands.

"Because I have to be!" he says sharply, and stands up unsteadily with his hands tugging through his hair, fingers mussing it up even further and tightening around the dusty gold locks. "Because I'm fucking terrified but I can't—I have to—I've had this curse on me since I was born, Char, and I've always known this was coming and I told myself that I wasn't gonna fall apart when it did, I can't do that—"

"There's still time," she presses, the desperation plain in her voice. "I can find something, we can still find a way—"

He looks at her with the tear tracks on his face glittering in the low light of the candles, and he reaches out a hand to take hers. "There's no way out of this," he says, and her chest tightens. "You know that."

"No." She tugs her hand away from his with her lungs and her eyes and her whole body burning, and she thinks maybe this is what it feels like when the world ends and all the stars fall from the sky.

She's crying, then, sobs that cascade out of her and shake her chest and Henry's arms are around her and they're both sinking slowly to the floor. His fingers are gentle as they tangle in her hair, and even like this, the irony of it isn't lost on her—he's the one dying, and yet he's holding her in his arms as she breaks. It's part of who Henry is, though; a guardian, a protector, with or without a suit of armor.

Fuck, she needs him here, she can't do this—

Henry takes a stuttering breath, and when Charlotte looks up his eyes are screwed shut, a crimson trickle coming from the corner of his mouth. "Char," he starts, all the steadiness from his tone slowly fading now, "I need you to...Piper, Jasper...my parents, Ray, and-and Schwoz..." he hesitates, and his eyelids flutter open and she wonders fleetingly when the colors became so dim. "Can you just tell them? Please?”

The words stick in her throat. His eyes are urgent, searching, but she can't, she can't accept that he's going to—no. "There's still time," she breathes again, and tries and tries and fails to hide the break in her voice as she helps him lay down and cards her fingers through his hair. "You can tell them yourself."

Charlotte reaches for the spellbook closest to her, rifles through it like somehow, it'll hold the key. There's a piece of her that knows it's useless, but she's doing her very fucking best to shove that piece down as far as possible. She doesn't need that right now. She doesn't need Henry looking at her like it's hopeless, like he's dead already, she doesn't need to cry anymore, what she needs is a cure. "There has to be a way," she says, mutters like she's trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "There has to."

Henry's fingers brush against hers gently, lace themselves through the gaps. "It's okay," he breathes. "Char, it's gonna be okay."

"No, I can't lose you. Henry, you're my best friend, you're—you're everything, please, you can't—" He can't. She needs him. She can't do this without him; she needs his smile and his stupid jokes and his laugh that sounds like a clear summer day, she needs the way his eyes blaze when he's passionate about something and the kindness of his heart and she needs him here, with her, she can't—

The realization hits her at the same moment that his last breath leaves his body, and she thinks that this is the cruelest joke that fate could've played.

"I love you, Henry."

The words tumble from her lips to spill over the stone floor, and then she's breaking and breaking and the world around her is falling to pieces because he's gone and she loves him, she's always loved him she—

She loves him.

Holy shit, Charlotte loves Henry. And there's one thing that can break any curse, reverse any spell. There's one thing that breaks the laws of magic entirely and can even bring people back from the dead, one thing that can save him.

True love's kiss.

Her mind whirs. True love is rare, but more powerful than anything else. If this is it, then it could work. But only if Henry loves her back. Only if whatever they have between them is real.

Please, she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut, wiping the tears away from her face. This is her last chance, her only chance, at bringing him back. If it doesn't work—

No. No time to dwell on that now; she shuts that possibility away in a mental box and tosses away the key. Charlotte has to believe this will work, or else the world will end all over again. She's going to get him back.

She takes a deep breath and leans over Henry, her fingers brushing against his cold, cold cheek, running through his soft, familiar hair. In that moment, she knows her feelings are true. She loves him. It’s just a question of whether he feels the same way.

"Come back to me, Hen," she breathes softly, and then slowly, gently, desperately, presses her lips to his.

There's a pause that makes her feel as though the universe is holding its breath. But there’s no gust of wind, no chorus of angels, no flash of light—for a moment, there’s just nothing.

Her lungs twist together, her throat closing up as it gets harder and harder to breathe. Please—

And then, "Char?"

Her breath catches as his eyelids flutter open. His brown eyes meet hers, full of color once again, and she feels a laugh bubble up in her throat and throws her arms around him as he pushes himself up.

"You're alive," she says into his shoulder, her hand tucking itself in between them so she can find his heartbeat and feel it thrumming softly in his chest. She follows its steady rhythm, reminding herself that he’s alive, that that’s his heart beating underneath her fingertips, that he’s okay.

"You did it," he laughs a little, that same sound like a clear summer day, and she grips him tighter and wonders if she'll ever get tired of hearing it. "How did you do it?"

There's a beat of hesitation, and then Charlotte pulls back a little, one arm still hooked over his shoulder and the other hand coming up to cup his cheek. It's warm, now, no trace of the chill left behind except the memory. She pauses, and then looks him in the eyes with an earnest gaze. "True love's kiss," she says.

He falters for a moment. His eyes search her expression, like he’s waiting for her to say she’s joking. “True love’s—you—you love me?"

"Idiot," she replies, with a fondness in her chest that she knows she'll never get rid of. "Yes, I love you, Henry Hart."

She'll remember the look on his face for years to come: he smiles like the fucking sun, bright and warm and beautiful, his eyes huge and flickering with light. "I love you too, Charlotte Page-Bolton," he breathes, and there's a moment that seems to Charlotte like the world is on hold, like the third rule of sorcery has been broken and time has stopped, and they just take it in.

"And," Henry says then, and his smile turns sly at the edges. "If you'll let me, I'd like to kiss you while I'm conscious this time."

Charlotte lifts an eyebrow. "On one condition," she replies swiftly, and his expression turns curious.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

She hooks a finger in his collar. "Don't ever. Die on me again."

"Deal," he says, and then shoves his lips against hers, and Charlotte runs her fingers through his hair and thinks fleetingly that they should stay like this forever. This time, it feels like she's the one coming to life all over again; it's bold and bright and wonderful, and honestly?

She can see why true love's kiss is so fucking magical.