#lets be real the workplace relationship was barely fucking anything

[milliumizoomi]

𝐼𝑆 𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑇 𝐻𝐸𝑅?!

TodoBakuDeku x Black FEM! Reader

AGED UP!!

Warnings: Fluff to Angst to Fluff, cursing, confused boyfriends, tw,, racism mention and hidden talents.

A/n: my motivation be dropping really fast but we back😩✨. also i got a lil lazy at the end so that’s mbb😭.

✗ 𝐎𝐇 𝐆𝐎𝐃, you knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen. They weren’t supposed to find out like this and now they're calling and texting you trying to find out where you are and what exactly it is that they just saw on literally one of the biggest billboard TVs in the city.

✗ But I should backtrack and say what lead to this.

✗ It started about 4 days ago.

You came home from work to an empty house, as usual. You were used to this. Your boyfriends were pro heroes so this was normal. You walked to your shared bedroom and dropped your purse on the bed. You sat down on the same bed and slipped your heels off. You then flopped down and let your body relaxed. “Ugh.. today was stressful. Ima go take a shower the wait for the boys to come home” you said. You then got up and stripped. You then picked up your shower cap off the dresser and walked to the bathroom. You pulled your lace front into a bun and put your shower cap on and turned the water on then hopped in the shower.

20 minutes later, you got finished with your shower. You stepped out and grabbed your (f/c) towel and dried off. You then also took the chance to peel the shower cap off of your head. You set the shower cap on the shelf and wrapped the towel around your body and walked out of the bathroom. You got to the bathroom and grabbed your lotion off the dresser and started to apply it to your body. After you were done, you threw on a big t-shirt that you had bought some time back.

You walked into the living room to see none of your boyfriends are back. You shrugged this off and decided to make dinner. Today you thought you make ackee and saltfish. You knew that your boys enjoyed your food. Especially since they weren’t used to food like that. So you got to work.

About an hour later, you hear the front door jiggling. And then the sounds of gruff voices could be heard. ‘They’re home’ you thought as you covered the pot and walked to the front door. When you got there, you saw all of your boyfriends leaning on each other as support for taking off their shoes. “Welcome home,” you said to them. They all looked up, stunned. They didn’t even notice you were there.

“Oh hey angel sorry you startled us. Are you ok?” Todoroki said as he stood up and hugged your much tinier figure. “Yes, sweetheart I’m ok. And how are my other boys?” You asked teasingly. Bakugou grumbled and stood up and leaned down towards your shoulder. You could tell he was stressed. “Ease up ‘Suki babe I need to my hair outta the way,” you said as you felt Bakogou’s head resting on your hair. He lifted his head for a second and allowed you to move your hair then dropped his head right back onto your shoulder. Midoriya then walked up to you and snuggled his head into the top of your head. “Hi pretty baby.. you ok?” He asked as he continued to rest his head on you. “My baby m’ok but y’all look tired.. rough day?” You asked as u were still supporting all of these huge men whom were all 6 foot and over. He nodded his head in your hair, answering your question. You stayed like that for a while until you remembered. “..Did I turn off the stove?” All the boys perked up at you at your question. “WHAT THE HELL?!” Bakugou yelled as he bolted to the kitchen. “Oh crap..!” You said as he managed to turn it off before anything bad happened. “I can’t believe I totally forgot..” you sighed. “Well boys go clean up I’ll share your plates,” you told the boys. They nodded and headed to the bedroom.

‘They were off.. what happened today..?’ You thought. You had realized that their behavior was slightly off as soon as you walked up to the door and inspected them. Their body language was a little different. ‘But why didn’t they tell me..? Do they not wanna talk about it?’ You continued to ponder. You decided that you would ask them later. You shared their plates and placed them on the table. You then shared your plate and sat down. They all emerged out of their bedroom in their casual clothes. And by casual I mean shirtless with sweats on.

They came and sat down at the table. “Thanks princess, it looks delicious!” Midoriya praised. Bakugou grunted in approval and Todoroki nodded, indicating he thought the same. You all then started eating in silence. It felt awkward. You decided this would be the best time to talk about what may be bothering them,, so you asked. “My loves?” You started. They all looked up and you, letting you know you have their attention. “Did something happen..? I mean! The reason I was asking is that you guys seem to be deep in thought about something” you continued.

You watched as all three of the men looked at each other then looked back down at their food. You sat there confused. Where they not going to tell you? You opened your mouth to say something but Bakugou cuts you off, “Don’t worry about it Y/N.. it doesn’t concern you anyways” he grunted. This surprises you. You all had been keen on communication in this relationship and yet here they are shutting you out. “What does that mean Kastuki? Y’all know that we communicate in this relationship. I want to help you with whatever it is that is bothering y’all but how am I supposed to when you won’t even tell me?” You said, having your english slowly beginning to break because you were getting a little upset.

“Drop it Y/N. This isn’t something we wanna share ok” Todoroki said calmly. “But why? We’re supposed to be open about this stuff” You answered back. You weren’t going to drop this so easily. You wanted answers all while trying to stay rational, calm, and patient, but that was slowly dwindling. “At least explain to me why you don’t want me to know and I won’t push it! You aren’t giving me any answers here! How am I supposed to feel seeing the three people I love so much walk through that god damned door looking frustrated and shit huh?!” You say getting even more frustrated.

“STOP FUCKING ASKING! IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND OK!” Bakugou yelled. “Now I don’t know who the fuck you raising your voice at ‘cause I know it ain’t me,” you said, trying to maintain your calm state of mind. “Yes! I am talking to you” Bakugou grunted out. “No the hell you not y’all know I don’t take disrespect from nobody,” you said while leaning your hand on the table and resting your face in your palm.

They stayed silent. “And why don’t you think I’ll understand?” You continued. They didn’t answer. “Well?” You questioned. You scoffed. “Wow ok, no answer tough crowd I guess..” you said, rolling your eyes. You looked over at Midoriya who was silent the whole time. You could see he wanted to say something by the look on his face.

“You got something to say don’t you Izuku? Go ahead say it. ‘Cause right now I’m trying to understand” you told him. He froze up at the sound of his name. You didn’t really use their real names much so it was a shock to not only him but the other two men as well. “B-babe.. well I— I just—“ he started. He then sighed and started again. “It’s something you wouldn’t understand because um..” he said and then mumbled something at the end. “Ima need you to speak up please ‘cause you mumbling and I ain’t hear what you said” you said. He froze for a second then said it again. “Because your not...” he mumbled again. “Izu I still can’t hear you” you told him. “BECAUSE YOUR NOT A PRO HERO!” He blurted out. Your eyes widened and you froze. We’re they seriously not gonna tell you what’s bothering them because of their job?

“Are yall fucking serious..?” You mumbled out. “We’ve lived together for so long.. we’ve been dating for so long and y’all trying to tell me the reason y’all can’t explain what the hell is bothering you is because I don’t have the same fucking job..!” You stated getting angry. “What does that even have to do with anything?!” You said, fuming.

And they just sat there. Staring down at the table. “I don’t give a damn about your job all I want to know is what’s wrong so I can help you!” You yelled out. “You should give a damn about our jobs.. all you do is leech off u—“ Bakugou started but stopped as soon as he heard what he was saying. The other two men looked at him wide eyed. They all turned to look at you. You stood there in shock. You then laughed, but there was no humor behind it.

“Wow.. this all started because I was trying to be a good girlfriend. And then the people I call so called boyfriends wanna tell me that I’m LEECHING OFF THEM?! THAT THE REASON THEY CAN NO LONGER TALK WITH ME IS BECAUSE IM NOT A FUCKING BIG SHOT LIKE THEM?! UNLESS YOU FORGOT I GO TO WORK TOO! I DON’T LEECH OFF NOBODY FOR SHIT!” You said, seeing red. How dare they. They know the shit you go through at your workplace. Having to deal with racism and things of that nature. You stood up from the table with the food that was barely touched. “Eat your food I’m going to bed.. do whatever the fuck y’all want ion care,, I won’t ask no questions no more. Thanks for telling me the reason though” You said as you walked off to one of the guest bedrooms to sleep.

They boys sat there in silence. They knew they were wrong for what they did and no doubt they felt horrible. “Fuck” Bakugou started, leaning down to hit his head on the table. “That was the worst conversation ever..” Midoriya said, pushing his plate away. “I feel really bad.. all she wanted to do was help” Todoroki chimes in. The guilt settles with them. “She.. she didn’t deserve that..” Bakugou said feeling extremely guilty. “Why did I say those stuff.. I’m a fucking idiot!” He continued. “Don’t say that Kacchan! Granted we didn’t act the best but..” Midoriya trails off. “We should go talk to her..” Todoroki says as he gets up. The other two men get up as well and they all walk towards the room you were in.

They stopped in front of the door when they get there. Midoriya knocked softly. “B-babe..? Can we come in?” He said silently. There was no answer. He looked back at the two males behind him then spoke a little louder. “N/N can we come in please we’re sorry.” Still there was no answer. Todoroki moved in front of him to test if the door was unlocked and it was.

He looked over at Midoriya and Bakugou, then looked forward and pushed the door open. The room was dark, with only a soft glow coming from your phone. Your back faced away from the door so you couldn’t see the boys when they came inside the room. “B-babe..?” Midoriya croaked out. You didn’t answer. “Babe we’re sorry please face us..” He continued. You stayed silent, not moving a muscle. The boys looked at each other and sighed in defeat. They moved to leave since they knew that when your mind was made up about something, there’s no persuading you.

“Hey..” you called out to them before they left the room. “Yes?!” Midoriya called out first. The three men turned around quickly, facing you. “Say that to me again.. and I won’t stay here..” you said as you turned to face them. Your eyes were red and your face was tear stained. You cry when frustrated.

The three men stiffened. The my knees what they did was wrong, but they had no clue it affected you so much. “Do I make myself clear..?” You asked seriously. “Y-yes babe.. we’re sorry.. just please don’t leave.. please” Todoroki said as he leaned down next to your bed and hugged you. You put your hand on his head and reassured him. “I’m not, I’m not. I trust you guys. You have me your word. I love you. All of you.” You tell them. Bakugou and Midoriya stood there, probably too overwhelmed with the situation. “Come on you two. Get over here.” You smile at them. The all laid in your bed together and fell asleep, the dinner forgotten on the table.

You woke up the next day to a cold bed. ‘Oh they probably went to work already..’ you thought. It was Friday. “Well.. time to get up” you yawned. You got up out of your bed and stretched. You took a shower, put your clothes on and made breakfast. You realized the dishes from the dinner you cooked yesterday were washed and cleaned already. You smiled at this and continued to finish getting ready for work. You finished your preparation and went to your car. You started the car and drove off to work.

When you pulled up, you got a text from your friend since middle school.

✗ Messages

[???]

— hey y/n! how you been?

[you]

— hey … ! ive been good,, hbu?

[???]

— ive been doing alright,, but i need to ask you a favor

[you]

— a favor?? what kind of favor??

[???]

— remember what we used to do in high school >:)

[you]

— lemme think abt it ok

[???]

— alr but lmk soon ok

[you]

— np xai yk i will

Read at 8:43 a.m

You spent the whole morning considering what your long time best friend asked of you. You really wanted to, but you weren’t sure. ‘It has been a while.. and I’d like to catch up. I wonder if they still act the same,, knowing those bitches they haven’t changed” you rolled your eyes and laughed.

A few hours pass and you get off work and get home. You slip your shoes and jacket off and walk to your shared bedroom with the boys. ‘Ugh..my head is killing me..’ you thought as you sighed and plopped down on the bed. You took your phone out of your back pocket and looked at the messages again. You really weren’t sure whether or not it was a good idea. You decided to take some more time to just think it over.

You sighed as set your phone down on the bed. You payed there for a bit just to relax. After a couple minutes you decided to go take a shower. “Ugh.. time to take a shower. Damn work took it outta me today. Wonder when them niggas getting home today..” you stretched and said. You laughed to yourself as you thought of how many times you’ve called the men you live with different names. It’s funny because they don’t mind it at all, so you get to basically call them anything you want. You shook the thought from your head and headed to the bathroom to take your shower.

After you finished, you walked out with a towel on and headed back to the room. ‘Ok I needed that..’ you thought to yourself. You made sure to dry your skin properly and continue to do your night routine. ‘Finally finished for the night.. god I’m tired but I still have to cook’ you thought.

You made your way to the kitchen to prepare dinner. You chose to make some fried chicken with rice and a homemade sauce you created a while back. You got the pots on the stove and started cooking. Like clockwork, the 3 men you shared your home with came through the door at roughly the same time as the day before. Right now, it was 8:39pm. You heard the front door and the muffled voices from the kitchen. You smiled to yourself knowing that they made it home safely. Being a pro hero does not mean you living to see tomorrow is guaranteed, so you were grateful. You heard their heavy footsteps and muffled voices coming closer towards you. You turned away from the stove to greet them.

“Hey how was work?” You questioned as you were putting a knife down. “Stressful” Bakugou said running his had over his face. He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to look at what you were cooking. “Hey babe” Todoroki said sitting at the table. “Hi Sho. I’m guessing your day was just as bad as Katsuki’s huh?” You snickered. Todoroki shook his head with a soft smile on his face because of your antics. “How ‘bout you Izu how did the job go for you?” You said teasingly. He groaned and leaned up next to you on fridge. “It was stressful today that’s for sure..” he exasperated.

You couldn’t help but laugh at them. They look so out of place and annoyed. “Awe come on babe cut us some slack. Some of these people really know how to get on my nerves ok!” Bakugou groaned. The two other men nodded in agreement. You let out a final laugh before calming down. “Okok I will. I’m sorry” you said, still trying to calm down. The three men looked at you then smiled. This went unnoticed by you since you had shifted your attention back to the stove. Your mind was still lingering on the day before with the events that took place. You shook you’re heading to try and shake off the feeling since you opted to try and not think about it and got back to cooking.

“Oh by the way N/N, we have some plans we have to look over for the weekend ok? So we need to focus because apparently this new mission is a big job” Todoroki said. You nodded. You knew by the tone of his voice that he was serious, plus, you had no energy to say anything otherwise. “Dinner’s ready!” You said as you placed their food on the table. You could see that they’ve already started talking about what they had to do.

Suddenly a light bulb went off in you head. “Aye.. y’all.. I actually have something a friend wanted me to help them on this weekend. They didn’t say what it was but apparently it’s some sort of project” you tell them. You decided you were gonna help your friend since the boys are gonna be extremely busy. And that meant you were most likely gonna get ignored unintentionally, which is something you weren’t looking forward to anyways. And since they already started planning out what they were going to do about the mission, they just waved you off. You rolled your eyes and went to your shared room and grabbed your phone.

✗ Messages

— i’ll be there,, and expect me early cuz i may be leaving tonight or early tomorrow

Delivered

You put your phone down and started to pack a bag full of stuff you may need. ‘Should I leave a note when I’m going?’ You thought. ‘Naw whatever I’ll text them that I’m gone’ you decided. You continued to pack your overnight bag, making sure to put all the essentials in it. You look at the clock to see it was already past 10.

“Damn that took longer than I thought..” you said as you leaned up to stretch your back. ‘Where are those overworkers anyways? I thought they’d come in here and see me packing or sumn but I guess not’ you thought as your mind traveled to your boyfriends. You walked out of the room and into the kitchen to see they were already done eating. You rolled your eyes. “Of course those niggas are already working. Guess I’ll leave tonight. Got nothing to do anyways” you said to yourself.

You went back to your room and changed your clothes. After you were done, you made sure to grab your purse and put everything that may be needed in it. You wrote a note and stuck it the one place you knew they would all see it. The fridge. After you were done, you took all your stuff and grabbed your car keys. You walked out of the big doors and opened your car to drop all of your stuff on the passenger side of the car. You walked back around to the driver side and jumped in. You started the car and drove off, already knowing the address to the place you needed to go.

You arrived at the big house that was blaring with music. ‘A music video.. I knew it’ you thought. You and your friend, which was a well known musician. A famous one at that. And he wanted you to be in it since well, you’re a dancer and sometimes you sing too. ‘This was the project huh..?’ You thought as you shook you’re head and laughed silently.

“N/N YOU HOE YOU MADE IT!” Your friend, Xai yelled as he hugged you. You hugged him back. “Shut the fuck up bitch, yes i'm here. Now tell me what I have to do nigga” you said teasingly.

He rolls his eyes at you. “You know exactly what to do don’t act” he says walking away. You laugh. “Yeah yeah I hear ya. Now where’s my outfit. This is gonna be so fun” you said with excitement.

A few days later•••

And that is how you ended up with your situation. Apparently you went viral in that music video. You were one of the dancers and one of the background singers. You were dancing with your friend, who’s stage name was Xailli, in a scene and people found you captivating. So now your face was on some of the biggest billboards in the city. And apparently they, meaning your 3 boys, saw you and is now blowing up you’re phone.

“XAI! WHAT THE HELL! I DIDN’T KNOW THAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY PLANNING ON RELEASING IT SO QUICKLY!” You yelled at him on the phone. “I DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE RELEASING IT EITHER!” He said frustrated. “Oh my god.. and now their blowing up my phone” you said. Right now you were hurrying to drive home.

“Omg I’m gonna get a fucking earful when I get home. And I honestly thought it was supposed to be a rough draft” you sighed. You never told the boys about your secret talents and now you were pretty sure whatever conversation that’s waiting on you wasn’t gonna be a pretty one. “Wait are they planning on releasing the rest?!” You asked expectantly. Xai scratches his head. “You know I’m not even sure no more I’d have to ask but since they can pull shit like this I wouldn’t put it past them..” he answers very frustrated. “Fuck..” you sighed.

“When I see your producers again they getting they ass beat. And why did they make us sign that NDA?” You asked. “Honestly I have no idea. I feel like they tryin to hide sumn but I don’t fucking know” he answered, visibly stressed. “Ah whatever.. I just pulled up outside the house so I’ll talk to you later ok” you said to him. “Alright laterrrrrr” he answered in a singsong voice. “Byeeeeee” you answered as you hung up.

‘Ah fuck..' you thought as you got out of the car and made your way to the front door. You walk up the stairs and go to open the front door when it swung open. You froze. ‘shit! shit! shit!’ You thought. You head was tilted down so all you saw were their feet. You were pretty sure they were starting down on you so you didn’t move an inch.

“Well?” Midoriya said. You didn’t even shift. For some reason you were so nervous that you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath. “Get your ass inside. We need to talk about something that I’m pretty sure you know about” Bakugou said, turning around. The other two men turned around and walked inside the house.

‘Why the actual fuck is this happening right now’ you thought as you walked in the house, head still facing the ground. You put all your stuff by the door and took you shoes off, then just stood there awkwardly. The three men stood in front of you, towering over your body.

“So.. you gonna start explaining? Because we sure as hell would love to know what we saw on the billboards all over the fucking city" Bakugou said. “And look up at us when we’re talkin’ to you” Midoriya says.

‘This is gonna be a fuckin' pain..’ you thought. You stood up straight and look at them dead in the eye. “What do you wanna know?” You asked. They all looked down at you knowingly. “We for one, why the fuck were you on a billboard today?” Bakugou asked. You sighed. “Ok I left you a note saying that I was gonna go to my friend’s house to help them with a project, given I had a feeling it was gonna be a music video but I wasn’t 100% sure” you said honestly. The three men looked at each other, then back at you. “Ok.. so then why didn’t you text us to tell us that’s what you were going to be doing when you found out?” Todoroki questioned. “I couldn’t. For some reason I had to sign an NDA, which I don’t normally have to do” you replied.

“They made you sign an NDA?!” Todoroki asks, concerned. “And you said they usually don’t make you do that..? Does that mean you’ve helped or does these types of things before?” Midoriya asks. “First yes Sho, I’ve been in helping in the music industry and in all my years of doing that I’ve never had to sign an NDA. And secondly, Yes Izu, as I said before I have been helping in this industry for a while.” You answered honestly. The three men stood there bewildered.

“So you’ve been helping with these kinds of things and never told us?” Bakugou asked. “Well yeah I guess.. it really wasn’t a everyday sort of thing. Whenever they called me to help I’d either tell them yes or no.” You answered. “Ok.. so what about the NDA?” Todoroki asks. “Well.. we did multiple videos, meaning music videos, and the producers released the video you saw today without Xai’s permission so I’m not sure what their gonna do now” you answered.

“WAIT THERE’S MORE?!” Bakugou yelled. “Uh.. yeah??” You answered in clear confused. “And they made you sign an NDA?!” Midoriya questioned. “Uhh yeah I’m sorry I don’t get it” you answered back visibly still confused. You looked at the three men who looked at you then looked at each other.

“Yeah we’re going down there NOW!!” Bakugou said, grabbing his jacket. “Wait wait WHAT HOLD ON I DON’T GET IT!” You yelled in confusion. Just then, your phone started ringing. You looked at the caller ID to see it was Xai. You answered it quickly. “Hey what’s up? You good why you calling again?” You asked. “No time to explain but you need to get over here quick. It has to do with the NDA. Turns out the producers and some people on my teams’ been pulling some shit behind the scenes,” he replied. You’re eyes widened at this and then mumbled a quick “thank you” then you hung up.

“They tried to fuck us over.. let’s go” you said as you rushed to the car. The three men looked at each other then proceeded to follow you. “I’m driving” Todoroki said as he took the keys from you. You all jumped in the car and he drove off. After you gave the directions and he got there, there was a spectacle outside. There were news reporters and paparazzi crowded outside. It was the house you shot the music video at, not Xai’s actual house. “For fuck's same how’d they find out already?!” Bakugou yelled. You sighed.

“I’ll handle this” you said as you got out the car. You walked up to the door but before you could get there, there were flashing mics and cameras being stuck up in your face. “Can you please get that away from me?” You asked as you tried to push forward but to no avail. “Excuse me but I think our love said to move back thank you,” Midoriya said, coming out of absolutely nowhere.

And the reporters just stood there in shock. Then the questions started bombarded all of you. You all managed to push through the flood of reporters, granted with Bakugou yelling curses for them to get out of your face. You all managed to get up to the front door. “XAI LET US IN! THESE REPORTERS OUT HERE ALL UP IN OUR FACE!” You yelled over the noise the door swung open and Todoroki pulled you up and walked inside the house with Midoriya and Bakugou quickly following. “Sho why’d you pick me up?” You asked. “I wanted to” he said nonchalantly. You rolled your eyes as he set you down.

“So where’s this Xai person and where can we find his management and team?” Midoriya said seriously. “No shit, they’re not getting away with this” Bakugou said. “I’m Xai and I’m talking to them right now, you can come along if you want to you know,” Xai answered. “You stay here” Midoriya said. “I ain’t staying nowhere,, let’s go,” you said, following Xai. The boys shook their heads at you and followed your lead.

✗ Eventually they got all the information they need and filed a lawsuit. Apparently what was happening was that Xai’s management was trying to squander the resources they have for this project they were currently doing for another. Basically copyright. And therefore they’ve made all who were there sign an NDA so that if this came out to them and those workers realized what they were doing then they wouldn’t be able to say anything.

✗ They got sued of course and Xai had to find new management. And you won the case and everyone was paid the money they deserved. You, on the other hand became a well know singer and dancer after that, with the help of the boys’ support of course. You were happy and so were the boys and you could honestly say that things couldn’t have turned out any better.

©Property of Miashimaa. Please don’t rectify, repost or modify without my permission. Plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

Taglist: @develith @uniquabackyardigans @unfazedrose @kiribis-confesion-page @darylthekidd @gm4176 @blackweebtrash @erensbbg @shamwizzy @kloudyisdepressed @namjoonswifeyy @cosmiclvsh @bakuhoes-bxtch @morosis-haze @aracynthos @dukina (Open ! click here to be added!)

[ohallthecrushes]

Wherever you go I’ll find you //Joker x Reader // part 3

A/N: This is the third final part of this series, after ekhem a little long break, I finally finished this draft. I don't know how and why, but the end is different from what I expected to be. Maybe some of you won't like it, but it just feels right to me, I don't know... Sometimes a story writes itself and a writer can't control it. ^^ Feel free to let me know what you think about it. Feedback is welcome since I've had a long break from writing and I don't know if I'm still any good at it. Summary: Arthur is so ingrained in his Joker persona, he forgets that his S/O has only seen Arthur. Not knowing him anymore, she runs. When Joker realizes this, he is devastated and does everything he can to find her. After hours of searching, he finds her in a difficult situation and takes her back. She is scared, out of her mind, but it ends up being a beautiful reconciliation. Contains: abusing, ugly fight, harassment, blood, wounds. Word count: 2 232

Joker was trying to collect himself up from the floor. You'd really hit that spot between his legs that had knocked him out for a second which had helped you to break free from him. He saw you running away from the flat, but he didn't go after you. He gathered himself up and sat down before lighting a cigarette. He didn't go after you, but not because he gave up on you, no. He still wanted you and wanted you to be near him. Everything in his body screamed to run after you, get you back here, but letting you go was a better idea. Letting you go for now only. So you could take some time to think, it could help you to calm down, which was what he needed you to be. Calmed down to listen. He sat down on a couch and took a drag from his cigarette. He didn't like at all what had happened and how things had turned out. He could have thought of blocking the door in some way or lock you up in the bedroom before he'd started that conversation. Perhaps then you would listen to him instead of running away. He really didn't expect you to react like that. Why had you panicked so much? He wasn't sure. You weren't in any danger and he was ready to explain you everything. But you'd reacted like Penny when she was confronted with an uneasy or uncomfortable truth. Run and hide. That was always her reaction. And it was your reaction too. Run and hide. If that what you wanted to do, fine. He could handle that. He could handle being scratched, kicked, pushed and screamed at. For you. And for your relationship. Because you were still in a relationship with him. It wasn't a breakup, it was only a fight. He was sure of that. He looked at his hand that was marked with scratches and smirked to himself. Hide-and-seek. If that what you wanted...

So time passed by as you were wandering through Gotham, without any place in mind to go to. Your feet were hurting from walking so long and your eyes were burning from tears you'd cried. You were also cold, because temperature dropped at evening and you didn't have any sweater to cover yourself with. It reminds you of all the times you'd stolen sweaters from Arthur, telling him you forgot yours and you're cold, when really, you just liked to be covered with his scent and his...being, having something of his on yourself. You sobbed as your mind was wandering on its own through all those happy memories you'd had with Arthur. How could this happen that he had changed so much? That he had become someone you couldn't recognize anymore? Joker. Was he still your sweet loving boyfriend? Was he still someone you could trust? You wasn't sure. You stopped for a moment to look around. You were somewhere between your favourite coffee shop and Arthur's workplace. You didn't want to go to any of those places. You wanted to go somewhere where Arthur... Joker wouldn't find you. You decided to go on the left and pass a mall to get away from the busy street. You knew that people were ignorants and cold here, not paying any attention to a lonely crying girl, but even unseen, you still wanted to be away from people. Your legs walked you to the right as you passed by the mall and you got far away from Ha-ha's and the coffee shop. You hugged yourself and rubbed your cold arms with your also cold hands. It was getting dark and you found yourself beside a park's gate. You sighed as you realized there weren't many places in Gotham that didn't remind you of Arthur. You took a path to the park and sat down on the nearest bench. You took off your shoes and massaged your hurting foot for a moment. A cold wind blew onto your face, sweeping your hair away, making you shiver again. You cursed the weather and Gotham and everyone in it. You were tired, cold and upset. And the worst thing - you couldn't do anything about it. You couldn't express your emotions which you felt so many right now, cause you didn't even know how. You could only curse under your nose and cry, which wasn't very helping to be honest. You heard footsteps and you looked up to see a young, obviously drunk man approaching you. As he set his eyes on you, you knew that he was going to bother you. You leaned back at the bench and observed him, wishing you could just go away from you. But he stopped in front of you and chuckled as he looked at your naked feet. - Too much walk, eh? Tired, aren't you? - he came closer to you and you wanted to run away, but you reminded yourself not to show him you were scared. Besides, with your tired hurt feet, you doubted you would be able to run faster than he, even though he was drunk. - Go away - you said with a firm tone. - Why, eh? Don'cha want me to walk you home? - No, just go away. My boyfriend is near. - Your boyfriend? - he snorted as he moved to sit beside you. You moved away from him to the end of the bench - Where is he now? Taking the piss, eh? - Y-yes - you lied looking around, searching for help. You wished Arthur was here. - Let me take you home - he reached out his hand to touch you and you stood up right away. - I said go away! - you yelled as you walked a few steps back, ready to run even with your bare feet. - Don't be like that, princess! I'm just trying to be nice - his tone changed to anger and you were really scared at this moment. You started walking away backwards to still has him in your sight. - Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you! - he pointed at you before he leaned down to take your shoes - What about your pretty shoes, eh?! Dont'cha want them back? - he threw a shoe at you, hitting your arm. Before he threw the second one, you were already running away. Ignoring the pain in your calves, the rocky subgrade and his screaming behind you. You weren't sure if he was running after you, but you were too scared to look behind to see. You decided to run as long as you could, trying to find a way

out of the park. Unfortunately you lost your direction and you didn't know what path you were on. You didn't hear that man screaming anymore, but you didn't stop running until your foot stepped on a sharp stone, making you fall on your knees. - Fuck! - you screamed as you shifted your body to sit. Your knees were scratched and your foot was bleeding. - Look at you princess - you heard the man's voice and you saw him coming your way - hurting much, eh? Wanna help? I can help you if you come with me home, hehe. - H-how did you? - You know you just ran a circle, right? - he chuckled as he approached you. You tried to stood up and he caught your arm to actually help you stand - See? I'm a gentleman. - No, you're not - you glared at him and shook your hand from his grasp, you were angry and frustrated - You're awful, you're drunk and you're harassing me! I told you to stay away and you didn't listen! - Oh, screaming at me now, eh? - he chuckled and came closer to you - I'm harassing you? Really? - he grabbed your arm too tightly for you to shake it off - Maybe I should just show you what real harassment is. He grabbed your hair with the other hand and you yelp in pain. You were so much in pain that you couldn't bear it anymore. It came to the point where you couldn't even recognize what hurt you more or even where. It was like you weren't in pain, you were pain. And that pain somehow gave you strength. You felt helpless for a moment when he grabbed your hair, but then you felt furious and fierce. You didn't want to be helpless, weak or a victim to him. You could and you would fight. You screamed as you kicked him in his groin and your nails went for his face, scratching his skin ruthlessly. - You bitch! - he yelled as he crossed his legs in pain and covered his face with his hand. He let go of you, but you knew you couldn't run anymore. You had to fight him to the end, until you were sure you were safe. You had to knock him down. He tried to jumped on you, but missed. He only scratched your arm and you punched him in the face. You tried to push him on the ground but he grabbed you and threw you away. Luckily you landed on a grass. You saw him coming at you and you kicked his knee, making him fall to the ground. You tried to stand up, but he grabbed your foot, the one that was bleeding. You screamed in pure anger as you jumped on him aiming for his stupid, drunk face. - You fucking piece of shit! - you screamed as you grabbed his head and hit it against the ground. Your thumbs pushed onto his eyeballs and he screamed in pain, but he managed to easily throw you off of him. He was stronger than you, but he was temporarily blind now and you knew you needed something to defense yourself with. You looked around and your eyes set on a larger rock. You took it and you didn't hesitate as you took a swing and hit him in the head. He fell on the ground, not moving. You waited a few seconds, but he stayed unconscious. You finally knocked him out, you finally had him defenseless as you wanted. But you didn't feel like you finished at all. It really scared you of how much you wanted to hit him again and again. To release your anger at him. You really reconsidered it for a moment, but you stopped yourself. You didn't have to take it that far. Even though he very much deserved it. You put the rock away and just sat there, more tired than ever. - Y/N? - a familiar voice came from behind you and you looked back to see Joker running up to you. - Y/N, what... what happened here? - he crouched down and took you in his arms. As your face hid in his chest you started sobbing. He hushed you as he rubbed your back to try to calm you down. - Hey, it's alright, I'm here now, no one's gonna hurt you anymore - he kissed the top of your head - Just don't run away from me again, Y/N and I will protect you. You kept sobbing as he slowly pulled away from you to look at you. - My god, you're hurt, Y/N - he said in a very concerned tone - What this scumbag did to you, to my precious angel? You saw tears in his eyes, an apologizing look

of not being here in time when you needed him, and you sobbed even more. - A-arthur... you said with a pleading tone and he knew exactly what you needed from him. - Let's get out of this place. I'm taking you home. I'm gonna take care of your wounds, darling - he said as he knew you learned your lesson already. He didn't like that you got hurt, but at least now you knew how much you needed him to protect you and how was he the only person that would never hurt you. He helped you stand up and you took a final look at your abuser. - Fuck him, Y/N. If he ever get near you again, I will fucking kill him. You knew Joker was serious about it. You knew he meant it and he was able to do it if he had to. And you would be lying if you said you cared. You didn't. You knew what people could do and how awful some Gotham people were. But as long as you had Joker on your side, you were safe. It didn't mean you approved murdering people, but you got what it felt like to be taken to extreme, to be pushed to breaking point. You understood Joker now. He went a long way to become what he became and you could either accept that or walk away. And you knew already that walking away from him wouldn't do any good. It wasn't what you wanted anyway. Joker spitted at the man and then he looked back at you. - Let me carry you, love. I won't let you walk with your feet hurt. You looked up at him and you recognized Arthur under his greasepaint, behind Joker persona. It was weird to see both of them at the same time, there were so many things in him to figure out for you, but there were also things you could be sure of. He would never hurt you and he would do anything for you, cause Arthur still loved you. - How did you find me? - you asked as he lifted you.

- I was looking for you in all the places we've ever visited until I trusted my guts and got here - he smiled at you - you should know darling, that I will find you wherever you go.

[brattybookclub]

A BDSMer’s Perspective on THAT Open Heart Diamond Scene

*WARNING: Discussions of NSFW content and BDSM done properly and poorly*

Hi, this is Cath! A major area of interest to me is BDSM, and while I am still a newbie (sadly my journey into the BDSM community was halted due to the pandemic, but that aside, I’ve been doing research since I was a teenager), I was able to identify several problems with the Ethan scene, from a BDSM perspective. This is meant to criticize PB, as I feel that this shows arrogance on their part, and that they just saw the Chapters ad for “Hard To Master” and decided “Hey, we should do that too!” (This will be kind of long.)

Something I didn’t see much discussion on was the fact that towards the end of the scene, Ethan says, “I’ve just never met someone whose appetites could match my own.” Meaning, Ethan has ZERO hands on BDSM experience. And neither does MC. Most of my criticism comes from the fact that neither of them is actually experienced. Hell, I have more experience than they do, and I’m a college student who has to save up for my kink gear, including collars. Yes, a top can practice alone on themselves, but Ethan and MC do very little negotiation. Most of the communication is taking place during the kinky activities, which there’s nothing wrong with, that works for some people, but it seems like the safeword was just there for decoration, and the diamond scene doesn’t really live up to “dark passion”.

When I saw that the scene was in the chapter, obviously I did not buy it, but I was shocked and kind of upset because the way PB marketed the scene was that it was some dark taboo activity where Ethan lets out his inner beast. This isn’t the case. I’m going to start from the beginning here. The context is that Ethan has just demonstrated that he cannot be trusted to maintain the integrity of an important medical study that could lead to breakthroughs in the industry. He showed arrogance and disregard for ethics. This is the backdrop for him asking to dominate MC. Just based on that, MC should say no. BDSM can be an escape from a frustrating day, to regain or give up control, but if one of my partners was going to lose their job, I would not trust them to dominate me that day. If Ethan is in this bad of a headspace, he could hurt MC during their activities (and not in the fun way) and make it worse. Second, HE ASKS AT THEIR JOB, WHERE HE IS MC’S SUPERIOR. The ethics of boss/employee relationship aside, that is blind to the power dynamic built into their workplace. This is the only point PB gives you the choice to consent until later, during the activities. In my opinion, this fucks up the Consent aspect of Safe, Sane, and Consensual, while Ethan’s current headspace and his actions prevent it from being Sane.

I know so many people have said this before me, but the way Ethan says what he wants is probably the grossest way of saying that. “… I need to feel in control of myself… and of you.” Ethan, you are in control of yourself. And saying that he “needs” to feel in control of MC… No. No, no, no. Submission is a gift that you do not take lightly, and must be given voluntarily. You do not ask someone for it without discussion first. And there is no discussion of what MC’s submission style is? Is MC a service submissive, are they a brat, are they a little? What if MC is a top or likes to be dominant? Nor does Ethan discuss what style of dominance he is into. Now that I think about it, there’s not a lot of power exchange. But it’s not just a top/bottom style activity either… Does PB know that you can participate in kinky activities with no power exchange, and that you can do power exchange without pain? It feels like they’ve just lumped all of it together. This scene fails to have any sort of distinct identity. It smells of a couple trying to spice it up in the bedroom and only reading about BDSM off of Cosmopolitan and Buzzfeed, and not really knowing what they’re doing.

As soon as MC and Ethan get to his place, he decides to pour you both some scotch. NO. NO, NO, NO NO. I have been to a discussion amongst EXPERIENCED kinksters about whether dungeons or events should offer alcohol, and it’s controversial because things can go wrong in a PUBLIC kink setting. For inexperienced people, especially with how bad Ethan’s headspace is at this time, and the fact that he claimed he wanted to “feel in control” of MC and himself, he should NOT be touching any alcohol. And over the drinks, Ethan and MC can discuss the events of the day when they could be, I don’t know, talking about what they are about to do??? Because MC has no idea what Ethan’s intentions are, exactly. Later, Ethan gives MC choices for what they can do; either he ties them to the bed, spanks them, or he decides (on all the playthroughs I have seen, Ethan deciding leads to him spanking MC). But they are already in the kink scene. You know how you should never go grocery shopping hungry? Well, you shouldn’t make kinky decisions, especially as a newbie, when you’re horny. They could have used this time to discuss if either of them has experience, and I must repeat, you don’t find out that Ethan has none till after you two finish. Ethan doesn’t tell MC any risks of what they do; if they might be bruised by anything he does, or if something will hurt after they finish. This is not following RACK; Risk Aware Consensual Kink. MC is not able to give informed consent. There’s also no discussion of limits or pain tolerance and… good fucking lord, this is a setup for shit going wrong.

So anyway, after their discussion of the day’s events, and Ethan’s feelings, MC assures him that they don’t want tender (hey, PB… BDSM can be tender!!! Also affectionate, loving, and sweet!!!!) so Ethan gives them a leather body harness and tells them to meet him in the bedroom. My initial reaction was, “How did he have their size, and how did he have that on hand?” I did some research, a lot of body harnesses are adjustable. Still pretty weird that he just had a women’s body harness on hand with no experience. I mean the men’s kind of makes sense because maybe he’s a switch, and as far as the handcuffs and riding crop despite no experience go… a lot of people hoard adult toys without using them much in case they do get the chance.

After MC puts on the harness, they meet Ethan in the bedroom and he asks them to pick a safeword. The default is “Free Healthcare” which fucking sucks as a safeword. The universal safeword is usually “Red” because of the traffic light system. When telling MC not to shy away from using it, he says, “You’re in control just as much as I am.” Uhhh… Who’s gonna tell him that the submissive has all the control? They decide what they consent to. The dominant operates within that. Also the part about, “This isn’t just about giving me what I need… It’s also about giving you what you want.” Yes… but also no. The dominant does not “need” their partner’s submission. It’s them mutually wanting what the other is willing to give. Also the “need” vs “want” feels… icky. So, so, icky.

From there to the options Ethan gives MC isn’t bad. I’ve had at least one of those exchanges in real life because it doesn’t feel cringe in the moment. Since MC and Ethan didn’t negotiate before the scene, I guess Ethan giving MC two options of what he can do to them, or he will decide between the two options if they want him to, isn’t that bad. I just think it would have been much better had there been communication beforehand since MC hasn’t done anything like that before. Thankfully it’s opt-in as opposed to opt-out, because opt-in is recommended for partners who are new to each other.

“Tie me to the bed.” Option: Ethan will muse about whether he should do rope or handcuffs. Maybe he has practiced with rope alone in the past and knows what he’s doing… But MC does not know this!! Mercifully, he picks handcuffs. Thank god he uses leather cuffs. PB has used metal ones in the past and those have all sorts of safety issues if they are not double-locking. PB is super vague about the setup so I’m a little confused about how he can be going down on MC then pull the chains of the cuffs so their back is against the headboard?

“Spank me.”/ “Choose.” Options: Ethan will get a riding crop, which is not at ALL recommended for newbies. I’ve actually had a friend demo a riding crop on my back, when I was fully clothed, but newbies are usually advised to either a) start off with a plain open hand spanking or b) test out how the implement feels by having the receiving partner rate the pain from a scale of 1 to 10 so one can get a feel for their pain tolerance, and how it changes as they are spanked longer. In my experience, it’s important to start out lighter especially with newbies. AND YET. “The first smack of the crop against your bare skin almost ends the game before it’s started.” NO NO NO. STOP STOP STOP. MC can barely take the first hit??? The first one should not push you to your limit, especially when it’s your first time. You may be wondering if riding crops actually sting that much. They don’t have to. It depends how much force you use. Side note, it is important for the top to know what each toy they are using feels like. Whether that means bottoming or testing the toy out on themselves, this makes sure they maintain empathy for their bottom. Anyway, MC gets hit by the riding crop like twice before this option converges with the sex part of the diamond scene. Really PB? You couldn’t at least say that the swats “rained down” or something? Two super intense hits is no fun compared to less intense spankings that last longer. In fact, if you change toys for different sensations, you can usually last longer, since the area gets more sensitive as you go along.

Anyway the sex happens. Ethan says, “Tell me what you want.” Which creates the options:

“Safeword/Free Healthcare” (God PB that’s so cringey, I get it’s a medical drama but just use Red!!!) Option: It instantly stops, Ethan is concerned, MC assures him that they just know their limits, which, good for you MC!! It’s not easy to safeword even when you want/need to. Though, I raise an eyebrow at the fact that you can safeword during the actual sex, as opposed to being tied up or spanked. I would think those would be where a person would be more likely to need to use their safeword especially if they are new to these activities.

“Harder.” Option: Gets more intense after Ethan asks if MC is sure. Goes into Ethan trying some orgasm control. Yay. Don’t see why this whole scene couldn’t have just been rough/wild sex since I’m pretty sure PB has done that before.

“Just like that…” Option: I think we can all guess what happens here.

I’m gonna fast forward through the rest of the sexcapades because there’s nothing interesting or worth critiquing. Safewording makes sure you skip all the rest of the scene and then it’s MC and Ethan in bed, him holding MC. I don’t want to say, “PB didn’t include aftercare!!” because cuddling is a lot of people’s aftercare, but I wish they’d talked about it more. Like Ethan asking if MC needed water or get out of the body harness, or some lotion or aloe vera for their butt if they got spanked. Or him checking their wrists if they got tied up. These are important things for aftercare, and while not everyone needs aftercare for every kind of activity, it’s important to talk about ahead of time, or communicate after the activity. Aftercare helps both parties come down gently from a high that you can easily just have an unpleasant drop from. I’ve gotten emotional after impact play. Some people feel guilt for inflicting pain on someone. Aftercare is necessary for the dominant or top as much as it is for the bottom or submissive, and I wish PB was as good about including that concept as they were about the safeword.

Anyway while they’re cuddling, MC and Ethan have the conversation where it leads to Ethan saying he’s never met anyone whose appetites match his own. While this might be acceptable for someone who lives in a small town… Ethan lives in Boston, Massachusetts. When looking up BDSM dungeons in Boston, I found two dominatrixes, and like three pages that talk about possible BDSM groups. And that’s not even checking on fetlife. Ethan simply didn’t want to look for like-minded people, and that’s on him. He could have found classes to help him learn how to do everything properly and safely, and maybe some friends. More people are kinky than you think!!! People in the community love it when new people join the community and express a desire to learn.

MC spends the night, and in the morning their sprite is STILL wearing the body harness. PB THOSE CANNOT BE COMFORTABLE. Like especially if it’s as fitted as they describe, how can MC still be wearing it?? Especially with them sweating on the leather??? Not going to lie, I laughed when I saw that oversight.

And that’s the end of the scene. Alright. The scene is not good. But it’s not Fifty Shades of Grey bad. I get the jokes and the comparisons, and while PB is arrogant, much like EL James, PB isn’t THAT bad. MC is clearly into the BDSM, which Anna clearly was not in 50 Shades. PB did a little bit of research, but I find it pretty obvious that aside from dirty talk, they have almost no experience actually getting into kinky activities, nor do they participate in the community.

I really hate how they acted like, “Ethan’s in dark mood…” but didn’t commit to that. Also how they didn’t really commit to portraying BDSM accurately. It’s kinky looking if you aren’t in the kink community, but to me, it’s vanilla pretending to be edgy and kinky. PB didn’t really commit one way or the other. They seemed to just use some iconography (excluding collars, surprisingly… that’s really easy to add??) and a little bit of kink, then set it aside and called it a day. This seemed to be there for the shock value. Going into the scene, I felt like SCC was being broken, but in the midst of the scene was a very different tone from what PB was acting like was going to happen. Ethan felt very different going into the scene as opposed to during it. I feel like this is what happens when you have to market kink to a mostly vanilla audience. Anyway, if you want a really great educational youtube channel, Evie Lupine is doing the lord’s work as a BDSM educator. Thank you for reading this 2500+ word rant from a kinky nerd.

[fantasia-monogram]

As the clock strikes midnight, part 2

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / epilogue

♥️ Taeyang x reader (nonbinary, female anatomy) x Jaeyoon; mentions of other SF9 members

♥️ NSFW (~1.7k words); a lot of sex talk and kink negotiation. Mentions of BDSM and kink. No one is 100% straight. Mentions of queerphobia.

♥️ You’re a beast at work, having to be tough to climb up the corporate ladder, but what you never thought of is that your attitude might be intimidating to your long time crush. Luckily, your much more laid back friend is here to help... both of you. Please read part 1 before this!

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

Your impromptu get-together had been going for over two hours already, and you’d loved every minute of it so far. Your motivation had been mostly spending some time with Taeyang away from the workplace, but you had to admit: your other companion’s intentions towards you weren’t clear either. You enjoyed the mystery of it all, even though it was the youngest of your trio that you had your eyes on ever since the training period started.

Well, the mystery would end there, or so you thought.

“I can’t believe I put myself in a drama-like setting, but,” Jaeyoon started, clearly down out of sudden, “That guy reviewing our results… What was his name? Inseong… I might have a bit of a crush on him.”

You stopped in the middle of bringing a cup to your lips, letting your hand holding the latte hang awkwardly in the air. With the corner of your eye, you could see Taeyang doing the same.

“Come on, don’t tell me that you’re…” Jaeyoon whined, shaking his head.

“No, hear me out,” you interrupted. Before you spoke again, you cautiously looked left and right to make sure no one else was listening. Only then, you continued with a hushed voice. “You know, it drives me crazy whenever they call me a she in those international reports. I’m non-binary, I prefer neutral pronouns. I don’t really have to worry about it on a daily basis, until English rolls in and makes me cringe.”

Your friend leaned closer to you.

“Not like I didn’t notice,” he concluded. A wide grin was back on his face. “Do you like boys, though?”

You could tell he was just joking, given his usual flirty attitude, and you didn’t have to answer at all. However, since you started confessing already, you figured you could take it seriously.

“I do, actually!” You nodded, smiling lightly.

You couldn’t believe you could talk about it openly like that.

“Oh, I don’t discriminate, I fuck everybody,” Jaeyoon replied in a seemingly playful tone, although being serious as well, “But right now? My heart belongs to the Quality Department leader.” He finished with a hand on his chest.

You both laughed wholeheartedly, until you noticed Taeyang was silent this entire time. Jaeyoon turned his eyes towards him, with you following shortly.

“What about you?” Jaeyoon asked boldly.

A look of slight panic flashed through Taeyang’s face, and you’d think it’s adorable if not for the crushing possibility of him having objections towards who you were - now that he knew, it could have changed anything.

You really didn’t want to have your heart broken after mere four weeks since starting a new job.

“I… I like g…” Taeyang stuttered, his gaze briefly catching yours. He held tight onto his cup of coffee and looked away, blushing profusely. “People with vaginas.”

“No way!” Jaeyoon exclaimed. Fortunately, he remembered the topic of your conversation and immediately toned it back down. “I’m sorry, I’d have never clocked you as straight.”

“Hey, stop it!” You smacked his bicep, earning an exaggerated wince from him.

Taeyang rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

“It’s fine,” he stated, putting on a regretful expression. “I get that a lot. I tried everything, but that’s my final verdict for now.”

Jaeyoon kept making inappropriate jokes despite your earlier protest, but you would be lying if you said you were listening to him. Your eyes were glued on Taeyang, even though he was way too busy deflecting your other friend’s silly remarks to pay attention to you.

*

It wasn't the first time Jaeyoon and Taeyang have visited your place; they've been there numerous times before, together and separately. 

It was the first time, however, when they entered the apartment with all three of you feeling equally horny and not even trying to hide it. 

It couldn't have been caused by the alcohol, because you haven't had any, Taeyang only had a couple sugary drinks, and Jaeyoon got completely sober as soon as the words fun night were mentioned. Nothing had been explicitly stated, but all of you - always having been open not just about your sexual identity and orientation, but also your specific attitudes towards sex in general - have reached an unspoken agreement: everyone was getting off tonight, this way or another.

You quickly decided to take turns using the bathroom. When it was Jaeyoon's turn to shower, you were left alone with Taeyang. It was a bit awkward at first, considering his confession from earlier that you barely replied to. As soon as he sat on a sofa in the living room - smelling clean, fresh glow on his face - you took a place beside him, wearing your black satin pajamas already.

Taeyang leaned back and smiled at you blissfully. Only then, he took your hand in his; after holding it for a good minute, he intertwined your fingers.

"I'm so happy," he whispered. 

You really wished to answer in a coherent way, yet you couldn't possibly focus enough to be your usual, collected self - not when you finally had your long-time crush next to you, shirtless, lightly toned muscles and sharp outline of ribs on display.

Maybe you didn't want to shock him by showing this side of yourself so easily, but it was impossible at this point; your prettiest, prettiest boy was here, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the entire universe, making your heart swell with love and desire just by that. 

Not used to being so overwhelmed with emotions, you just stared back at him wide-eyed.

"Sheesh, don't tell me you started without me!" 

Jaeyoon appeared in the doorway, hair still wet and adorably curled without usual styling - a contrast to his impressive physique in nearly full glory since he, as opposed to the more reserved Taeyang, decided to step out of the bathroom wearing only boxer briefs. 

It's not like you hadn't seen him like this before, as you'd go to the pool together many times over the past few years (Taeyang always refused the invitation, even though he claimed to be a pro at swimming and even bragged about gold and silver medals he won in national competitions during high school). Yet somehow, this time, the sight hit differently, since you knew what was about to happen. 

"No way," you chuckled; Taeyang let go of your hand, which made your mood deflate a little. "Mind if we eat something first?" 

Everyone was starving after the boring company party, so you all moved to the kitchen. You couldn't hide your amusement over how the apartment looked like a dollhouse when trying to contain not just you, but also two grown men. You gave up on relationships ages ago, so when looking for a place to rent, you had only your own comfort in mind.

"Okay, first of all," you started when everyone was finished with their meal, "Are we all safe? While I was still in the dating game, I was always monogamous and did regular checkups. I haven't had any partners for the past four years." 

You cringed internally saying it out loud, but transparency was your number one priority. 

"I never do anything without a condom," Jaeyoon stated. 

As usual, Taeyang took a while before taking part in risky conversations.

"I do BDSM, but it hardly ever involved actual sex." 

"I can confirm that." Jaeyoon smiled smugly, propping his chin on his hand. 

Your eyes went comically wide at the implication. 

"Wait, what did I miss?! I thought you liked, in your words, people with vaginas?" You gasped, blood rushing to your cheeks. 

Taeyang's face turned equally red, except he decided to cover it with his hand. 

"Y/n, dear, he said that three and a half years ago," your friend explained. 

"Jaeyoon hyung had his part in my awakening as a submissive," Taeyang added, finally daring to look at you, "There was nothing sexual about it." 

"Except for the fact I watched you jerk off," the hyung in question clarified. 

"HEY!" The other guy got flushed again. 

You swallowed heavily, feeling your throat get dry all of sudden. Oh my God. You could barely sit still at this point. 

"We both like to watch," Jaeyoon concluded casually. 

"So… Wait a minute," you picked up, your head spinning from the information overload, "If I understand it correctly: Taeyang, you're a sub. Jaeyoon, we're both Doms."

The guys nodded in unison. 

"We're all into voyeurism."

Again, they confirmed with a single nod. 

"I can't believe. This is too good to be true," you said weakly, shaking your head with disbelief. 

"I have an idea," the older of your colleagues continued, "I don't wanna get too much inbetween you two."

Suddenly, Taeyang squeezed your hand under the table in a way that was borderline possessive. 

"But since it's supposed to be enjoyable for all of us… I could get a bit touchy with Y/n… I suppose watching us would be enough to get Taeyangie ready, am I right?" 

Taeyang looked to the side, his expression serious, but his body language unable to hide the excitement. 

"Humiliate me a little and I'll be fine," he muttered under his breath.

He squeezed your hand even harder. You smiled at the feeling. 

"I have one request for you," you turned to Jaeyoon, "No kissing on the lips, no hands in each other's underwear."

"I'm okay with that," he shrugged.

"You sure?" Taeyang asked. 

"No worries, just focus on yourself," the older guy chuckled, "I'll take care of myself while watching you two have fun." 

Was it happening for real? You felt like you were dreaming.

Taeyang brought you back to reality by bringing your linked hands to rest on his thigh. 

"Do we… go all the way?" He inquired in a shy tone. 

You took your time to inhale and exhale deeply before collecting yourself enough to answer. 

"Yeah, we do."

(to be continued)

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 5

previous | next

series masterlist

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, smut, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 5.2k

chapter rating | 18+

warnings | angst, smut (but it’s angsty smut lksjdflk help), nipple play, dry humping, alcohol consumption, someee intense jealousy

a/n | FIRST OF ALL im so sorry this is so incredibly late lskjdflkjs life has been extremely busy for me 😪 but it’s here!!!! thank you to everybuddy who’s been waiting patiently for this 🤧🤧 but i think this is one of the most angsty chapters of the series soooo 🙃

Namjoon’s an expert at avoiding uncomfortable topics, even if they’re massively serious. It’s something you absolutely hated and it was the cause of many arguments in your previous relationship, and perhaps was even the ultimate cause of your breakup.

But right now, you’re really beginning to understand the appeal.

The first time he swung by the museum for lunch after his birthday celebration - a paper bag in hand filled with bagels still warm and toasty from the store on the corner that you adore - you were caught entirely off guard.

Your mind jumps to the unread messages sitting in your texts and you regret ignoring them. Not because the guilt had hit you, but because maybe if you had been contactable, you would have received a heads-up that he was coming by.

Some might call it selfish, but you prefer to call it self-preservation.

To be fair, it’s not like you were going to leave them unanswered forever. You just needed space to collect your thoughts and make sense of your confusing emotions first, lest you begin the conversation prematurely and drag Namjoon down into the dizzying depths of your current state. As it is right now, your thoughts are like nodes floating in a decontextualized void, the web still unformed because you haven’t had the time to grapple with everything yet.

But here he is, inspecting the cross-section of each bagel Soo-eun pulls out of the bag, trying to identify which is which. Yeri’s at his side, gushing about how great the bagels from this place are. The three of them are crowded around the paper bag that sits on the wooden bench, the paint peeling from the way it’s been bleached by the sun in the museum’s outdoor area. Here he is at your workplace. With your friends. You can’t ignore him now, not without rousing your friends’ suspicion.

But what you can ignore is the issue.

It’s not the time nor the place to talk about this anyway. The atmosphere is warm and light, carrying traces of last night’s celebratory mood. The lunch treat is Namjoon’s way of appreciating the surprise you guys organized for him last night. And there’s a bagel stuffed full of salty sweet ham and sticky melty cheese waiting for you to sink your teeth into. Really not the time for serious conversations at all.

So when Namjoon’s eyes search yours, all wide and probing, as you step in to grab your share, you simply smile and thank him, before slinking away to join Soo-eun on the next bench. Not too far - barely five steps away - but far enough that it gives you space to breathe. Even if Namjoon notices your attempts at escaping, he doesn’t have time to call you out on it. Not when you slyly shoot Yeri a wink. Seamlessly, she catches the cue and sits herself down on the bench, tugging at his arm. For once, you welcome Yeri flirting with Namjoon.

“Let’s eat! I’m starving,” she says.

You don’t miss the way Namjoon’s gaze flickers between you and Yeri, but you ignore it and take a generous bite of the bagel in your hands.

“Mm, so good,” you say, and turn to Soo-eun. “Don’t you miss the days before this place got really popular?”

“No, because you and Yeri insisted on going there every day. I can only ingest so many bagels a week.”

“____ hasn’t changed one bit.” Namjoon chuckles. “This time in middle school, she ate tater tots every single day for three weeks straight. She had to be banned for a week.”

“Are you weaponizing my middle school past against me?” you ask amidst your friends’ laughter. “Too bad. I don’t regret it for a second. Tater tots are too delicious to regret.”

Lunch falls back into the easy rhythm of lighthearted jibes, the kitchen debacle receding for now.

Procrastination is a real bitch of a habit to kick. As soon as one reason to put it off expires, your brain churns out another two in its place like a modern-day Hydra.

As for Namjoon? Well, you’re not surprised when he makes no moves to initiate the difficult conversation. After all, you’re adopting his bad habit.

Eventually it gets to the point where you might as well not talk about it at all. Everything’s going fine so far without it. Or as fine as it can be with this beast looming in the backdrop.

You know you need to just get this damn conversation over with. But you can’t. Not till you figure out what exactly is going on with your emotions. Without it, there’s no way you can cauterize the wounds and invalidate your excuses for what they are -- excuses.

It’s not that you haven’t tried. But it’s presenting itself as a real Herculean effort. Mulling it over has you tossing and turning in bed, only leaving you with a headache and a steadily growing desperation. It’s desperation enough that you leave the comfortable warmth of your bed to sit at your desk, shivering as you pen the familiar words once again.

Dear Namjoon,

The words flow in their usual, unrestricted manner. Before, it had been like a dam breaking, the tight restraint that was normally kept on your emotions finally released and the wave of emotions gushing out till it reached a peaceful equilibrium. But now, your emotions are just a whirlpool and your words you pen mimic its spiralling, chasing your thoughts in endless loops.

You’re not over him. But so what? It’s not like getting together is an option. Not when he hasn’t grown out of one of the major things that caused the end of your previous relationship. And not when you haven’t even talked that out, if you ever will.

So what can you do now? Kicking him out of your life will mean having to deal with the loss that his absence will bring again. Going back to pretending the other doesn’t exist will mean dancing around each other again every time you bump into each other in this too small city. And with the way your social circles are intertwined now, that would mean a bunch of explaining to do.

But having him close yet holding him at arm’s length? Walking the narrow margin that is being friends with your ex? A misstep in either direction would be torturous but inevitable - too close and it’s alarming, but too far and it’s a painful reminder that he’s not yours.

Far from the illuminating effect you were hoping it would have, your letter to Namjoon only leaves you deeper in confusion. You throw your pen down. Giving up, you fold the paper up. Sealing the letter in an envelope doesn’t bring the same sense of relief it did before. The Hydra remains unslain.

And so the problem gets shoved away - the same treatment the letter gets as it’s roughly tossed into the desk drawer - into the same corner of the recesses of your mind that your breakup resides in.

You know that Namjoon’s confused. Heck, you are too. It’s a strange dance the two of you are involved in, caught between the compulsion to continue yet knowing the risks it bears. Neither of you are bold enough to take the lead. And so this strange stasis drags on as it has for weeks now.

It’s as if the kiss unearthed something in him. Actually no, it’s unearthed something in both of you. And the tension - the fucking tension - is unreal. The tells are so obvious that you wonder how neither Yeri nor Soo-eun have said anything about it yet. There’s certainly no subtlety in the way his eyes linger on your lips in the middle of conversations that you wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it.

And when it’s just the two of you? It’s infinitely worse.

It’s hard to blame him. Touch has always been your love language and Namjoon knows it. Physical touch wasn’t just a thing of your previous two-year relationship. It was a thing of your decades of friendship too, the little touches so casual and almost subconscious. Rekindling your friendship without them had taken intentional effort.

You’re not sure who started it. Maybe both of you just fell back into it, the casual little touches slipping their way back in. But what’s not casual at all is the way your heartbeat goes erratic at the most simple of gestures. The way he blithely sweeps the crumbs from your lunch off your lap. The slightly too long side-hug he holds you in, the warmth of his arm around you permeating through the layers you wear and has you simultaneously freezing up while also turning your insides to goo. But it isn’t overtly romantic either.

At least, that’s the excuse you give yourself when the comfort of his touch gets too tempting and you end up succumbing to it. The familiarity of it all makes you feel like you’ve finally arrived home. As if you’ve been on this long, arduous journey and you’re finally here. You get to drop the heavy backpack and rest now.

But the voice of rationality in you tells you this wrong wrong wrong. You’ve got to get out of here.

And that’s how you end up here. White-knuckled grip tight on the edges of the sink as you stare yourself dead in the eyes in the bathroom mirror. The music outside thumps away albeit muted through the door to the ladies’. But the way your heart thumps has nothing to do with that.

Even without shifting your gaze, you can tell that your cheeks are slightly reddened and warm. You can feel it tingling. No, you don’t shift your gaze. It stays fixed on the intense stare that your reflection throws back at you like a challenge, the ferocity of it enhanced by the sharp eyeliner you’re wearing tonight, an uncharacteristic look for you.

Heck, this whole night is uncharacteristic.

You could take the easy route and blame it on Yeri. God knows she can be real persuasive - it’s why she’s excellent at her job. So getting you all out to the club on a Friday night to celebrate nothing other than the simple joy that - c’mon guys, we’re all young and alive and free and tell me that’s not worth celebrating and I’ll fucking fistfight you right here and now even with my freshly manicured nails - is no feat for her.

Still, no one really expected your simple reply, tone nonchalant and eyes still glued to your work screen, “Yeah, I could use a night out.”

Soo-eun had remained silent but you could feel her stiffen slightly beside you. Yeri had been surprised too but more elated that she didn’t have to get through your usual ten solid minutes of whining and half-baked attempts at slithering your way out of it.

But back to the present. Your bodycon dress - one of the rare pieces that survived not just your college partying days but also the wardrobe purge that occurred when you had to downsize everything to fit into the tiny apartment that’s quintessential to city-living - expands with your chest as you take a deep breath. Gripping the hem where it sits mid-thigh, you yank it down slightly. It’s been a while since you’ve worn this dress. And while the younger, more risque version of you that was your college self had been enthralled by the daringness of the dress, your current self has to dig deep to muster up that same boldness.

Relenting as you realize that this is the limit to how much you can stretch the length of your dress, you let go and your fingertips unintentionally brush your thigh as it falls back to your side. It elicits a shudder, the sensation of your own fingers too close to the electrifying feeling of someone’s thumb skimming across it. It was electrifying enough that your brain finally powered up again, voice of rationality sending you skedaddling away, out of reach of his touch, and pathetically seeking refuge in the washroom.

You roll your shoulders back and shake your head, dispelling the thoughts. Standing upright, you look yourself in the eye again. You can do this. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to have a good time with your friends. You’re going to have a good time with Namjoon. With a nod of affirmation, you turn and saunter your way back to the club with a confidence that has your chin firmly tipped upwards.

You push the door open and look for your friends. The sight that greets you immediately punctures your confidence and your steady posture falls limp.

It’s hard to miss her silvery dress - the dress you knew she would wear and the dress that your very own was meant to counter. It catches the light and grabs attention. And at this moment, it grabs your attention so you can witness Yeri standing between Namjoon’s manspread thighs as he’s perched on the barstool, her hands all over him.

Whatever puffed up confidence you’d had is knocked out of you with that sucker punch of a sight. You turn away, needing to look anywhere but at them.

And that’s when your line of sight falls on a curly-haired man, oddly familiar, and apparently someone you know since he’s waving to you.

“____, hey!” he yells over the music.

“Dong-In?”

He nods and smiles at you. “It’s been a while.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “I was supposed to get back to you on brunch, wasn’t I?” Damn. You’ve been so wrapped up with Namjoon that you totally forgot about Dong-In. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been really caught up with things.”

“It’s no biggie.” He shrugs boyishly. “The exhibition, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sure, the exhibition. Let’s go with that.

“And nothing to do with…” he directs his gaze - and yours along with it - to none other than Namjoon who’s now drinking with Yeri.

Your gaze snaps back to Dong-In and his cheshire grin.

“Nah,” you feign a laugh. “He’s just a friend.”

“The hand he had on you sure didn’t look like just friends.”

“I said we’re just friends,” you snap, then gasp, taken aback by your own outburst. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I should be the one apologizing. I hit a nerve there, didn’t I. D’you wanna talk about it?” His voice is warm and mellow and oh so inviting. And you very nearly give in.

But you can’t pull him into your problems. It’s not his burden to bear.

“Not really. But thanks, Dong-In.”

“That’s cool.” He nods, and relief fills you. This is what you’ve always liked about Dong-In. He’s chill. “Well since we’re here, wanna get buzzed?”

You laugh. “I won’t say no to that.”

The bar isn’t too far from where you are, and it doesn’t take long before the burn of alcohol is sliding down your throat. Picking up the conversation again, you have to admit, you’d forgotten how easy it is to talk to Dong-In. He’s got that effortless charisma and an easy sense of humor that you can vibe with. Things are simple with him. There’s no line to be tiptoed. Flirting - now that you’re no longer obtuse and you’re finally aware that he is indeed flirting with you - isn’t accompanied by guilt or fear.

And after weeks of this complicated situation with Namjoon, simplicity is what you crave.

“Hey, do you wanna dance?” you ask suddenly. Surprise colors his features for a moment but he laughs it off.

“Is the conversation boring you? You could have just told me to shut up if you wanted me to,” he jokes.

“No!” You laugh. “There’s just a good beat going and-”

“I’m just kidding. I’d love to.” He smiles and grabs your hand.

The two of you weave your way through the mass of gyrating bodies. Lightly buzzed, the fog and the strobe lights blurring everything around you other than your dance partner, you finally find the courage you’ve been searching for this whole time. Dong-In hasn’t been very subtle about checking you out all night, and it gives you that extra boost of confidence that’s finally quelled the antsy thoughts and calmed the fidgety adjustments to your dress’s hemline.

So when his hands find your waist, you step in a little closer and run your hands through your hair, shaking it out and finally letting loose as your hips rock to the pounding beat. Dancing with Dong-In is much like conversing with him- easy and simple fun with just the slightest tinge of excitement. As your hips sway together in languid synchrony, you catch a whiff of the slightly intoxicating combination of his cologne and the undertones of his own natural scent. You give in to the giddying sensation of his hands running lightly over your body and press in closer, eyes fluttering shut, and just feeling. It’s thrilling. It’s risque. It’s-

A solid grip on your wrist yanks you forward and stumbling into a hard chest.

His voice is gruff as he bites out his words, “Get your hands off her.”

“Namjoon?” you gape.

“We’re leaving.” His eyes fix on yours, steely and piercing. A shiver runs down your spine - in all your years of knowing him, you’ve never seen him like this. He tugs on your wrist once more. “Now.”

Dazed by this brand new persona, you don’t even get to say goodbye to Dong-In, just pulled along by the force that is a quietly fuming Namjoon. Everything happens so quickly that it’s all a blur until you’re in the Uber with him, silently clutching onto your purse as an anchor in this sudden whirlwind of events. The anger emanates off of him even in the dimly lit backseat.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, but the shock diminishes the level of conviction in your voice.

He turns to you, the same hardness still in his gaze. “I should be the one asking that.”

“What?!” you snap. In your peripheral vision, you see the Uber driver jump slightly. Lowering your tone, you hiss, “What gives you the right?”

“What gives me the right?” he echoes incredulously, scoffing and turning away from you to face forward instead as he rolls his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

The car slows to a stop and you recognize your apartment building. You scramble to get away from him. But it seems your confrontation is far from over. Namjoon unbuckles his own seatbelt to follow you.

Terse silence sits between you, the aggravated stomping of your feet as you climb the stairs the only thing that fills the sound.

You turn sharply round the corner, stalking off to your apartment door. “You don’t have to escort me y’know, I’m perfectly capable of getting home by myself.”

“Really?” He folds his arms and leans on the wall next to your door. “It’s hard to trust you when you go off getting drunk and throwing yourself at a random stranger in the club.”

“Is that what the problem is?” You finally ram the key in, and the click as it unlocks is as harsh as your tone. “Sorry to break it to you, but I have a life apart from you. He’s no stranger. His name is Dong-In, he’s Yeri’s friend, and he’s a great guy.”

You shove the door open. Your heels get kicked off and left haphazardly at the entryway, shoe cabinet ignored.

“Wow, some great guy he is,” Namjoon slams the door shut and his shoes get discarded off his feet in the same fashion, “drunkenly feeling you up in a club.”

“Fuck!” You turn, wringing your hands in your hair. Your glares rival each other. “You say it as if I was strung along by him. Well I wasn’t. I initiated it.”

His glare flickers for a moment. He stays silent.

“Just admit that you’re jealous,” you whisper. You unsling your purse and dump it on top of the shoe cabinet, never breaking eye contact.

“Fine.” Namjoon’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I am.”

He skulks forward and traps you between him and the cabinet, gaze holding yours. Namjoon’s always towered over you, but at the moment it isn’t his height that makes you feel tiny.

“Watching his hands all over you like this,” Namjoon’s hands slowly skim the back of your thighs and up your sides and you bite back a whimper, “makes me jealous.”

“And watching you respond like this?” He continues as a firm hand presses the small of your back to close the gap between your torsos. “Glued to him like this? It makes me jealous.”

“You don’t own me,” you whisper but it only elicits a sardonic laugh from him.

“You say that, but you know damn well that’s not the truth. Tell me. Are you jealous?”

“What would I-”

“Yeri.” Damn. Straight through the bullshit. With an eyebrow cocked, it’s obvious he knows the answer and he’s not budging, not even an inch.

“Yes,” you admit quietly. “I’m jealous.”

“Silly girl.” He traces the hemline of your dress. “I only want you.”

A soft keening noise spills out of you. “I’m so sick of holding back.” You tug on his dress shirt, and the feel of his plush lips finally, finally meeting yours snips the final frayed cords of self-restraint you possessed.

Namjoon is quick to reciprocate, and you moan as his tongue licks at your bottom lip. Hooking your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, needing nothing else but to have him close after all this time of distance. He hoists you up, and your legs circle his waist to aid him. The world around you sets into motion as he walks you to your bed, and you anchor yourself by pressing kisses to his neck.

With how tiny your apartment is, it takes no time for him to carry you from the entryway to your bedroom. The cool sensation of your unmade sheets envelops you as he lowers you down onto the bed. He barely gets a moment to appreciate the sight of you, hair mussed and lipstick smudged, lounging on the bed and waiting for him. Desperate for his touch and running out of patience, you gesture to the zip on the side of your dress. Hurrying, he pulls the zipper down as you tug your arms out of the thin straps of the garment. You sit up and let the torso of the dress fall to bunch up at your waist, revealing your bare chest to him.

The quiet gasp that escapes him as he beholds you is infinitely flattering. It’s but a momentary pause. He dives forward into action again. An arm looped around your back to support you as your chest arches upwards, he crouches over you to take one perked-up tit into the heat of his mouth, his free hand coming up to toy with the other. His tongue laves over your nipple in a slippery flick. The other gets pinched and rolled, leaving you gasping at the delicious sensations.

“Namjoon,” you moan out breathily, and it only eggs him on. You whimper as he begins sucking on the bud and wetness pools between your thighs. Your fingernails rake down his back, muted through the layer of his dress shirt.

“M-more,” you plead. He releases your breast and moves his mouth upwards, trailing gentle pecks till he kisses along the length of your collarbone.

“Come here,” he commands, his words breathy and hot as they puff against the thin skin of your clavicle. He scoots back to lean against the headboard, and you follow hastily.

You clamber on top of him, knees bent and straddling his lap as he helps you hike the skirt of your dress up. But before you seat yourself atop the prominent bulge in the lightwash denim of his jeans, he holds you still with a firm grasp on your hip.

His thumb trails the lace detail of your panties, the patterns snaking across your hip bone, baby pink like your dress.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbles. His fingers wander to your clothed core, the material slightly sheer from the damp spot of your arousal. He strokes it tenderly with the pad of his finger, so light that it has you quivering as you hover above him.

His fingernail grazes your slit through the wet material and a gasp catches in your throat. You clench around nothing as carnal desire throbs through your core.

“Namjoon, please,” you whine.

Finally, he gives in to you and pulls you down. Your laced core meets his rough denim-clad one. The stiff material of his jeans pokes through the delicate fabric of your underwear, the friction rough as he drags you over his clothed bulge. The burn is delicious. His hands on you set a slow but steady rhythm that you follow easily, canting your hips in time. It’s enrapturing to watch the way you grind on one another, your clit rubbing up on the apex of his bulge in mutual pleasure.

A finger tips your chin up from the sight you were fixated on.

“Eyes on me.”

It’s difficult. Pleasure has your eyes drooping shut. But the intensity of his gaze compellingly holds yours and you manage, even if barely. His expression is stoic, and it’s only the twitch of his dick that betrays how affected he is. You, on the other hand, are completely abandoned to pleasure. Hands scrabbling across his upper back and up until they settle themselves as fists gripping tufts of his hair, teeth clamped on your bottom lip as moans spill out of you at increasing frequency as your pleasure climbs and climbs and climbs until-

Burrowing your face into the side of his neck, you pant as you cross the peak. Hips now stilled, your climax has you throbbing against his hardened member. You cling onto him with your arms around his neck as you free-fall in the subsiding pleasure. Bare chest brushing against the smooth material of his dress shirt, you catch your breath and yield to the moment.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit.” Louder this time. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The regret in his words yank you out of the heady fog of lust. There’s no time to bask in the afterglow. Reality comes crashing down hard and mercilessly.

Suddenly, you feel so small and so exposed. You read his regret as rejection. Your nudity and previous salacious actions make you feel stupid.

Namjoon attempts to extricate your arms from around him, but shame has you clutching to him tighter, hiding your face in his neck. You can still feel him under you, but it’s now an uncomfortable reminder of the act you just committed.

“Hey,” his voice is gentle now, pleading, “look at me? Please?”

You refuse. It’s impossible to look him in the eye right now.

“Fuck.” Even whispered, the panic laced in his tone is blatant. Gently, he maneuvers both of you to turn over. Feeling the mattress underneath you as you’re laid on your back, you release your hold on him and swiftly turn and tug your blanket up to hide away from him.

“____.” He tries. You grip the sheets even tighter as you feel him trying to pull it away from your face. “Please.”

Embarrassment. Guilt. Mortification. They overtake you and you curl in on yourself. You just want to disappear.

“____,” he tries again, hand stroking your head. But you don’t allow yourself to succumb to its comfort. “Talk to me. Please.”

Oh, now he wants to talk.

Why couldn’t you have just talked things out earlier? Why only now when things have fallen apart? Why now when you’ve just done something so stupid and so reckless?

Why now when it’s too late? What can talking possibly do to fix this now?

His pleas are met with silence.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says resignedly.

More silence. He sighs. You feel the mattress shift as he gets up. From where you’re still hiding in the stuffy darkness underneath your blanket, you hear his footsteps return and the muted thud of the glass getting placed on your bedside table.

The silence returns, but you can feel his presence. You imagine he’s staring at your blanket lump on the bed.

Finally, the heavy quietness is broken with a deep breath, and you hear him say softly, “Get a good night’s rest, okay? Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

The light clicks off and you’re plunged into lonely pitch-black darkness. In the distance, you hear the heavy opening and closing of your front door as Namjoon leaves.

Unearthing yourself to the coolness of the night, your dress an uncomfortable lump around your waist, your breasts slightly sore from his previous ministrations, you stare up at the ceiling as hot tears leak out.

It’s well into the afternoon by the time you drag yourself out of bed the next day. Sleep came intermittently and was far from restful, but waking up meant facing the nightmarish reality of what had transpired. So you hid under the covers for as long as you could. But you know you can’t stay there forever.

The buzzing notifications of your phone had woken you up on more than one occasion in the night. But you ignore it and leave your phone next to the glass of water - still untouched - in favor of washing up. It’s more pressing anyway, you surmise. You can feel your make-up, now icky and caked on your face. It’s awful. Your skin is probably revolting against you now and you don’t even want to think about the mess it probably left on your pillowcase. But last night, you were simply paralyzed by the weight of what you’d done, crying till sleep finally came for you.

You take your time going through an extensive skincare routine, even busting out the clay mask you had impulsively bought together with Yeri when it was on discount. You’re doing it because your skin needs the pampering and definitely not because you’re procrastinating getting to your phone.

But there’s only so many steps you can do with the limited skincare products in your apartment. And you know your friends are probably worried about your abrupt disappearance last night. Getting to those messages first, you quickly assure Soo-eun and Yeri that you’re safe at home. Looking at the remaining notifications, you sigh.

Missed calls Namjoon (8)

7 unread messages from 2 chats Namjoon: are you still sleeping? Namjoon: hey, you still asleep? Namjoon: text me when you’re up please? Namjoon: are you awake?

Dong-In: hey! Dong-In: not sure what exactly happened at the end there haha, but it was rly great seeing u again. Dong-In: i’m still waiting on that brunch reschedule, by the way.

Memories from last night come back to you. Dong-In runs his hands through his curls, an easy grin on his face as he leans in to listen to you over the loud music of the club. Things are simple with Dong-In. And, standing on the precipice of a mental spiral whenever you think of Namjoon, the same craving for simplicity from last night returns.

[2:06pm] ____: well it’s a little late for brunch right now

[2:06pm] ____: but you still up to grab a bite?

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Missing

You suddenly disappeared on the journey between your workplace and your home.

Alex, your current fiancé, is informed about this and wants to be involved with the search. Sullins gets him off the case almost immediately when foul play is presumed, considering Mahone one of the first suspects because of his (lately rocky) relationship with you.

Eaten by the thought of you dead, Mahone launches himself in a private investigation to try and find you.

Based off the song “Where’s My Love” by SYML

It had been Lang, that saint woman, who told Alex the news: you were gone and no-one knew where.

After leaving the administration building next to Alex’s office, you didn’t come home. People noticed only because you didn’t show up at work the next day and the interviewed doorkeeper of your apartment building confirmed never seeing you that night.

It had been also Lang, who kept him in the loop. The first days of your disappearance Alex had been shaking with adrenaline, sifting every video, every photo, every interrogation transcript Felicia gave him after Sullins took him off the case.

“I know that look,” Felicia spoke softly as her hands went to grab his ones. “You were out of State, it’s not your fault.”

Was it not?

The both of you didn’t stop fighting about anything, in the last days before her disappearing. Sullins thought it was obvious proof of Mahone’s culpability and Alex couldn’t but agree with his superior, just on a different note.

It was his fault.

He pushed you, pushed against your love and your presence because it was too good, too warm. You were too good for him and he broke you.

How many times he snapped at you? How many times has he let his work take priority over you?

Did he see the signals and didn’t care?

Or was he so blind he didn’t even notice?

Did you just… run away from him? Or were you in danger?

“How many hours, now?” Alex asked, his voice a whispery, ragged strand of what originally was.

Lang sighed, seeing his friend with his head hung forward and shoulders slouched down. He didn’t even try to hide the lack of sleep and food, at that point. “Alex…” “how many hours...days…?” his voice didn’t stop breaking from time to time, hardly keeping emotions where they had to stay.

Felicia remained silent, thinking about the last time she saw you, waving as you came out of your small little office. “Five days, more or less.” she confessed. “We searched along the road she usually takes, but nothing came up.”

Alex didn’t move, but his brain churned. “Have you checked-” “Looked at the CCTVs, in the park near her home, around the neighborhood...we even asked for security footage from civilians. I went out there myself and found nothing,” Lang exhaled, shifting on her side of the sofa, uncomfortable.

“Search dogs?”

“It had been raining since she disappeared. They can’t find a lead.”

“Interviewed coworkers? Someone that fancied her? Hated her? Or me?”

“He asked everybody, twice. Nothing came up beside office gossip. Listen, Alex, I know you know your stuff, but we know too. God’s know how much I want to find her, but you need to listen to me.”

Mahone went silent again, for a few seconds.

“Have you… looked where I told you to-” “...Alex,” Felicia's voice grew stern. “We looked. Every. Where… You need to start thinking that...maybe... she might be-” “DON’T-...Don’t say it. Please Felicia...just...let me...” and with that Lang couldn’t speak more.

Her chest tightened as she saw Alex curl up, hands gripping his own hair and tremble in what little tears he still had left.

With a small, weak “I’ll see myself out” she walked out of Alex’s living room, leaving the man to be with his sorrows with just a soft pat on his shoulder.

They didn’t search enough, Alex thought as he jumped up from the sofa, starting to pace around. He looked at your face peppering the place with various photos, smiling memories he still could feel, trapped underneath the surface of that agony.

They didn’t search well enough…! She had to be somewhere! If only Richard would listen to him!

She could die!

She could…

She is…

Anger came over him in a wave and Alex let out a pained roar, as he kicked over the coffee table, sending all its nicknacks flying.

A glass vase shattered, papers and flyers and documents flew around, the small piece of furniture rolled to the other side of the room.

You weren’t dead… you were just out of reach of anybody else.

That was it.

Fuck Sullin’s suspects, fuck everybody’s incompetence.

You were somewhere out there and if Alex found killers, rapists and even former military, he would find the love of his life.

He exited his house like a hurricane, not even grabbing his heavy coat to fight the cold of mid-autumn.

He had to check that place again. Even if his colleagues assured him the place was empty when they looked, Mahone had a feeling.

Because if you weren’t there...then you really just up and left him without a trace.

Five Day Earlier:

“What?!” you snapped, pressing your phone against your ear. You barely heard Alex through it, the sound of chatter and keyboards muffling his voice. “But we had plans...you know we had plans!” you whined, making some coworkers turn their heads.

You huffed, storming out of the office and on the emergency stairs, just so you could chew him a new one in peace.

“We found a new lead for the Ragman case-” “Like I care! You’re not the whole fucking Bureau, Alex! Let someone else handle it!” you barked, your free hand grabbing the railing.

It was that or it was crossing the street, up to his office and smacking him to kingdom come.

He sounded angry just like you, his voice cold and strained. “I can’t just step down! I’ve been following this case for weeks, you know it!” “I know that I’m planning this fucking dinner since EASTER, Alex! It’s not even the real Thanksgiving because you ALREADY HAVE that day filled, but no! No, you HAVE to be on the other side of the fucking Nation even tho you assured meー no, SWORE me you WOULD BE FREE!” you found yourself basically screaming into the phone.

It was like a dam exploded and now days and months of pushing down emotions kept pouring out.

It wasn’t only for a missed dinner, it was for the rest. The feeling of being less than his job, being unimportant. Not being enough for him.

Those thoughts gnawed at you for quite some time and now they came back in full force. “You know what?? Fine! Go be a superhero! Go hunt your next bone, good doggy! While you’re there, marry your fucking job too!”.

With that you slammed the phone shut without even listening to his voice anymore.

One after another, his promises kept missing...and you were at your wit’s ends. There was some talking to do, for sure, but before that you absolutely had to cool down or you would totally wreck what was left between you two.

So, after finishing your boring day at work you went out and, instead of going back to your shared home, you got on a bus and straight to your favourite place.

The park was nice even when the summer was just a memory, a thick fog rising from the browny waters of the lagoon.

You walked down a wooden path, feeling the wet earth beneath it shift slightly, and you breathed a long, long sigh; you didn’t need to be so mean, but you were so tired. Tired of battling for every inch of attention. Tired of tiptoeing around Mahone’s always full agenda.

You didn’t mind his line of work, being a federal was a very dangerous and busy occupation, but Alex seemed to always do more of what was expected of him. No one ordered him to travel and manually grab the killer of choice to bring back. No one ordered him to stay afterhours for days on end, leaving you to wait up until midnight with an empty plate in the kitchen.

He was the one going the extra mile for his job...but lately, you wanted him to take some, not all! But some of that mileage and invest it in his relationship with you.

Especially now that he proposed.

You chuckled a sob, remembering the day.

Was it just so you wouldn’t run away? Did he really love you?

Or did he love the cooking, the cleaning, the company?

You stopped in the middle of the wooden road and looked left, seeing a faint path in the tall grass.

That small, invisible trail led you to the best place of the park, where you played cop and thief with your friends.

It was a small, round clearing among the trees, with one L-shaped stone covered in moss you called ‘The Couch’.

You hopped on The Couch and groaned your anger away, laying down on the soft greenery.

You didn’t know what to do anymore...

Mahone stopped his car inches away from the main gate of the park, leaving the engine on as he got off.

He grabbed a torch from the glove box and ran inside, moving the light around like a blade cutting the darkness. His eyes swallowed every little detail as he walked, combing with his gaze through the trees, the grass, the waters.

Frantically he moved along the main path, flashing the wooden boards now dark and soaking wet.

The recent rain erased any single footprint that would have existed, but Mahone knew your favourite place.

You showed him once, making him find a basket full of good food, a blanket and some wine. “Twenty steps from the crooked tree… thirtyfive to the left,” he mumbled to himself, finding the faint trail almost immediately.

He walked like a pirate in search of a treasure, careful to never stray from the path.

“Y/n! Y/n honey!” he shouted.

Alex had this foolish thought, this little movie in his head that, once he overcame the underbrush and pierced the thick veil of trees, he would find you.

Maybe angry, maybe scared, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to hug you tight, to never let go.

As he walked up into the clearing, his already broken heart shattered.

Everything was as he remembered: the long, thin trunks of the ashes, the big green rock, the blades of grass.

Even the smell was the same, humid and woody.

But you weren’t there.

You weren’t sitting on that strange rock or maybe laying in the grass. Not you or your body or any kind of hint you were ever there.

Alex’s hand trembled, the light of the torch vibrating. “No...no no no…” he sobbed. “Y/N! HONEY!” he started to shout, “Y/N PLEASE! Y/N!” his eyes darted left and right as the realization started to really hit him. “Y/N I’M SORRY! PLEASE! DON’T...Don’t...p-please come back...” his voice crumbled as did his body, overexerted by the long days without respite.

The flashlight flew from his fingers in a fit of desperate rage and Mahone wept alone in the woods, almost wheezing in the constricting pain holding his heart.

Tears streamed down his face as his palms pressed against his temples, nails digging into his scalp.

It was his fault, all his fault...if he just said no to Sullins, if he sent Wheeler instead...if he listened to Felicia…

You would be home with him.

Eating a warm, good dinner together and then crashing into bed, holding each other until morning.

Now you were gone and his heart was, too.

c l a c k c l a c k c l a c k s p l a s h

Amongst the sobbing and the sounds of the night, Alex’s ears picked up on something. A sound that seemed to come almost from underneath him, faint and muffled.

Then, raising his head, Mahone noticed he was in complete darkness. His torch was nowhere to be found.

No, there was something: a few strands of grass seemed to shine, but the light was too feeble to be his flashlight...or was it?

He moved slowly, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment...and then his eyes shot open wide, for what he saw there, at the foot of the big green rock.

You lingered in that place for at least a couple of hours, watching the sky turning from grey to black as the night progressed. Your phone pinged a couple of times with messages from Alex, asking you to answer his calls, to stop being childish, to please reply. The last one was a defeated ‘we’ll talk when I’ll be back. Write when you’re home. Love you’ that made you melt a litte. You sighed, closing the phone with a little clack and laying it on your forehead, thinking. Now that you were calmer and level-headed, what had happened seemed a little excessive. Sure you’ll speak to Alex about your insecurities, about how you felt being always brushed aside, but at the same time you had to make peace with the fact that you still loved him, so very much. He had that job before you came into his life, it was one of the things that made you fall in love with him: his stubbornness, his logic, his courage. It was a new point in your life and it just needed adjusting, that’s all… “ehh...fuck me…” you whisper with a strange, sweet tone in it, as you took your phone and started to slowly type ‘Going home. Love you too’ to him. As you hit send, the phone froze for a second before giving you a small error message. “No signal? Where am I, Narnia?” you grumbled as you jumped off The Couch, lifting your cellphone at arm-high in search of signals. You stumbled around in the clearing, eyes transfixed on the little screen above your head. “C’mon, now that I wasn’t that angry anymo-” your voice yelped as your heel sank into rotten wood. Something behind you, on the ground, gave away and your entire weight dragged you down, down deep into the earth. You dropped like a stone, your fingers trying to grab the wet, rough walls as you plummeted down. Then a splash, cold water enveloping you with its sharp claws, but it didn't stop gravity enough for your bones not to break. You heard a snap and suddenly a jolt of electrifying pain shot all along your right leg. You cried in agony, scraping your nails against the rocks like running away from the hurt. After a few minutes of intense panic, your eyes started to watch around, to assess your position after the fall. You recognized it, between tears. It was a well. An old well hidden from everyone's eyes but nature, still filled with a couple of feet of freezing water. “Oh no...oh--ffffuck…!” you wailed as you tried to stand up, letting out another cry as you immediately fell down again, your own body too shocked to manage to stand up. The sandy bottom felt grimy underneath your hands, your phone dead in the water where it fell right after you. “HELP! SOMEBODY!” You passed all night screaming for help, watching the mouth of the well light up with the cloudy sky of the morning after. If you squinted enough, its form could be mistaken for a full moon in the middle of a dark sky. Unable to stand on your remaining leg for more than a few seconds, you leaned against the stone walls around you, trying to stay as far as possible from the water. It was too cold to sit in it without freezing to death and you surely didn’t want to die. You screamed and screamed until your throat felt raw and your voice cracked. Your thirst found solace with the same water threatening your life and you drank it with small sips, feeling its coolness fight your body temperature as you gulped it down. Another night came and went. The light grey sky became black again. It rained, water trickling down the walls and slowly pooling at the base of the well, around her legs. You drank your hunger away, using the rain to quench your thirst now that your small reserve of water got, alas, corrupted by your bodily function. Your voice carried less far away, tired but still trying. Third day and leaning against the wall with just one leg had been unbearable. Your knee buckled from time to time, sending you into the water now one feet higher. You convened with your body that sitting down, even if in freezing water, could be done for a couple of minutes at the time. You tried to scream for help again, but your voice croaked pitifully

and never reached the edge of the well, hidden among the grass. Surely someone noticed your disappearance. Surely there was police involved already...it had to be. You secretly hoped he noticed, too. Would he care, after what you screamed at him? You could not feel your leg anymore and looking at its bent shape made you nauseous. Or was it the hunger? "Please….! Someone…" Fourth day. You could not stand anymore. Water reached your chest now and the only moments of warmth is when your bladder empties itself. Rain stopped flowing down that night and you waved goodbye at your only source of clean water. He wasn't there. No one was. Death was. Fifth. Cold. Light. Alex…?

Mahone carefully palmed the edges of the well, double the size of a manhole.

He looked down, the light of his torch now reverberating along stone walls, impressing on them the dance of water. And his heart sank down the same moment he saw you.

You were sitting down with water lapping at your collarbones, your skin so pale you looked like a ghost.

His voice hiccuped a second, before coming out in full force. “Y/N!” he cried, but you didn’t move.

Only a slit of your beautiful, beautiful eyes was open. So were your lips, turned a dangerous shade of blue.

Quickly, Alex grabbed his phone and dialed Lang’s number, knowing full well she would still be in the office. She was leading the search, despite her pessimistic view about it.

The woman replied almost immediately, her voice tense. “Yes?” “I found her!” he hissed, panicked. “Send me the firefighter, now! And paramedics! Please she’s unresponsive I can’t reach-” “Alex, breathe! I’ll send you a backup, but you need to calm down! Where are you?”.

Mahone breathed in, tensing his jaw, before moving his head to search for something to try and pull you out. “She fell into an abandoned well,” his voice was colder, professional. “There’s no time, just track my phone. I’m going down…!” “Alex wait-!”

With that, Mahone closed the call and safely left his phone a couple of feet away from the mouth of the well.

Without a second thought, the man slid one leg into the hole, then the other, slowly lowering himself inside with his feet searching for pursuit on the smooth stones. His fingers found cracks in between the rocks and slowly started his descent. Alex slipped a couple of times, holding on just enough for his shoes to find a ledge again.

The journey you made in a few seconds five days prior, took Alex at least one solid minute of intense climbing. When only a couple of feet separated the both of you, Mahone let go of the wall and fell down into the freezing water, feeling it gnaw at his legs. “Y/n…! Oh God honey...please answer me…!” he panted as he reached you, kneeling down into the stagnant water. His hot hands cupped your frozen face, thumb caressing your cold lips and your damp cheekbones.

For a moment there was nothing. No movements, no reactions but only the sloshing of water around your bodies.

Slowly, then, you came up from the dark, fuzzy place where you were drowning, your eyelashes trembled, stuck, unable to open.

Resuscitated by his warm touch, his presence. “A...lex…” your voice was barely a raspy whisper, but that was enough for Mahone.

He exhaled a deep breath, a smile cracking his tense expression as he lowered his head to kiss your damp forehead. “I’m here love… I’m here.”

For a moment you thought about wrapping your arms around him, searching for more of that scalding sensation against the skin. As you tried, a new explosion of pure agony rebounded in your body.

You couldn't move, almost frozen solid in that curled position. Your stone-cold body started to shake visibly, like a broken machine trying to power on. “h-h-he...reー” you whined under your breath, one hand fighting against the cramping muscles to reach his shirt.

You gripped on him with all the strength you had left, eyes rolling behind the eyelids from time to time.

Mahone immediately wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in his body warmth. “Yes Y/n I’m here. I’ll take you out darling...I’m here, I’m not leaving…” he whispered hurriedly in your ear, a big lump forming in his throat.

You yelped softly when he touched your broken leg, your only functioning hand pulling at his clothes in pain and Mahone furrowed his brows, watching down in the muddy water.

He saw your injury but didn’t say anything about it, only shifting his body to be able to hold you without causing any pain.

Cuddled into his arm, you let yourself mold into him, your heavy head resting on his shoulder and face searching the hot angle of his throat. “I’ll not let you die…” he sweetly spoke onto your wet hair. “You will not...leave me like this.”

You sighed against his skin, your trembling starting to subdue. Oh you were so tired, the weight of entire oceans on you… but you could not stand losing his voice into the fog. “h--urts-…” you let out a soft noise, desperate and scared.

Your eyes finally managed to unglue, lashes thawed and gaze glassy, but you watched his face, crossed by the undulating lights the torch created from the bottom of the water. If you died there, at least you managed to see the summer skies in his eyes one last time. “I let you down so many times darling…” Alex hushed, his voice low and closed in his throat. His hand never stopped caressing your face, brushing away locks of hair and heating up your skin with his palm. “But I’ll get you out of here...this is a promise I’m going to keep...you just...you just have to keep holding on.”

You wanted to speak, to reply to his sweet, sweet words. Transform your groan into words of love and pureness, but your hand felt heavier than ever before and your aching fingers lost grip on his shirt.

It had been difficult to even remain conscient at that moment, focusing on the beating of his heart in his throat. Focusing on your body now split in two: freezing death on one side, burning pain on the other.

“Stay awake Y/n, don’t sleep…! C’mon honey you have to stay with me now. Please..!” you heard Alex as if he spoke to you from the other side of a glass, the voice you always loved now muffled.

As your mind started to drift off again, a thought came into your mind.

You never managed to reply to his message.

You never said that to him. “ ーove... you…” your tired, hoarse voice managed to claw out of your mouth before passing out again.

Red and blue lights pierced through the trees and seconds after a group of men in uniform came rustling into the clearing.

Guiding them was Felicia Lang, her phone in her hand trying to reach out for Mahone without success. “Where are you, you dumbー !” her mumbling stopped as her eyes saw light coming through the earth, then a little mmmmhz-mmmmhz of Mahone’s vibrating cell phone.

“HERE! HERE!” she shouted, waving her arm. Both police and firemen crowded around the well for a moment, assessing the situation.

There was a man on the bottom of the well, standing in water up to his knees. He was holding a woman in his arms, trying to keep her as close to him as possible. “WE’RE COMING DOWN! STAND BACK!” one of the policemen yelled, as one of the firemen wore a harness.

Alex made one step back, watching intently at the man being lowered into the well by his colleagues. “C’mon…! C’mon!” he hissed under his breath, his body trembling with adrenaline while time slowed down to a crawl.

As soon as the fireman reached them, Alex neared him. “She’s hypothermic, unresponsive...I can’t find a pulse but I see her breathing…!” he spoke quickly, agitated and the fireman nodded. “Paramedics are on the surface, sir, don’t worry.”

You didn’t even make a sound as your frozen body passed from Alex’s determined hold to the arms of the unknown man.

Slowly, you were brought up and out of the moist hell you fell five days prior, and while the fireman carried you towards the on-coming stretcher, Alex was given a rope to use as a way to climb up right behind rescue.

He didn’t even feel the pain in his arms as training and fear both pushed him to move quickly, grasping at the edge of the well with one hand and the other being grasped by Lang. “She’s there, go…!” she whispered to him as soon as he came out.

Mahone neared the stretcher the same time the paramedics put it down for you to be laid on and start first aid.

They couldn’t find a pulse for a good thirty seconds, before one of them confirmed that yes, heart beats were present but slow.

“Shallow breathing. Have you temp?”

“25 degrees. She’s gonna collapse, wrap her!”

“On three. One, two, three-up!”

“Gently!”.

Alex walked near the stretcher, watching you being wrapped up in insulation blankets and with one of the paramedics pumping air into your lungs through a mask.

He never left your side, as the little procession sped through the park, towards the exit and into the back of an ambulance.

On the ride to the hospital, Alex never left your hand.

Your fingers never left his, too.

[imagineaworlds]

Rules & Roses

“a ghost from my past”

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Non-binary!Reader x Emily Prentiss (poly triad)

Word Count: 1862

“Lauren?” I inquired, squinting just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

There were her famous bangs, barely brushing against her eyelashes, so every time she blinked, her hair moved. I used to find that attractive. I wasn’t sure why, but I really liked seeing her bangs sway back in the day. When she would be hovering over me, her fingers buried inside of me as she would grind her clit against my thigh, she used to scrunch up her face in concentration, making her bangs fall right in her face in the most… beautiful way. Now that she was standing across from me, that was all I could picture. I spent thirteen years dreaming about that. Thirteen years of not knowing where she went, so all I had were the memories of what it was like to be with her and to stare at her. Her bangs were there, but her curls and highlighted brown hair were gone— replaced by short, straight black hair. I swore I saw her that day on my run. The day I met Aaron, I thought I had seen Lauren, so I stopped. At the time, when it didn’t turn out to be her, I thought I was going crazy. But, now that things were going really well with Aaron, I was starting to figure that it was the universe’s way of having fate make me literally run into Aaron. However… with Lauren standing across from me… I knew that I wasn’t crazy. She said my name. It was really her. It wasn’t some lost sister or doppelganger as I had speculated. It was really Lauren Reynolds.

“What are you doing here?” she asked me.

I looked up at Aaron’s office to see him coming down the ramp on the balcony in order to join the crowd that had gathered within the maze of cubicles we were standing in. “I…” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what to do when Aaron reached out to take my hand.

He looked between me and Lauren. “Do you two know each other?”

“I…” I was still speechless.

After thirteen years, one would think that I would have been racing into her arms, jumping at the first chance to hold her and kiss her again. Yet, I was frozen in place. Things were complicated now. There was this parting tug in my chest, one half of my heart pulling me towards Lauren, another part pulling me to Aaron. How was I supposed to answer a question like his when we clearly knew two very different people. I knew Lauren. He knew Emily. How was I going to explain all of this to him? How was she going to explain this to everyone standing around us? My head started to spin.

I squeezed Aaron’s hand. “You ready?”

He cocked a brow at me, unsure of why I had dodged his question the way I had. Still, he nodded and said, “Yeah.”

As we started walking out of the BAU’s office together, we passed Lauren. Both of us were staring at her, and she was staring right back at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat and tug towards her again. This was fucking ridiculous. Things were finally getting good for me again. I was finally moving on. I had stopped seeing flashes of her in my dreams, memories, and in strangers’ faces because I was so busy with Aaron and putting my attention and energy into him and building a relationship with him. And, as usual, Lauren Reynolds came in like an uncontrollable storm. She came and went as she pleased, always ignoring the chaos and devastation she left in her wake. Why did her timing have to be so shit? She spotted me that day on the trail— we exchanged a glance long enough for me to really think that it was her, only to have Aaron make me doubt myself by telling me that her name was Emily and they were close friends. And by close friends, I mean they were co-workers that had broken workplace rules multiple times. I was so pissed. I always imagined seeing her again, but not like this. I imagined that it would be in a field of roses like the one she kissed me in when we were in Romania. I imagined jumping into her arms and immediately kissing her until I couldn’t breathe. I imagined the two of us falling onto the ground and letting passion and desperation take over the situation.

“Aaron,” I stopped him once we made it out of the building. He looked at me with worry as he turned to face me. “I know her.”

Was I really doing this? The better question was, how the fuck did this become my reality? This shit only happened in movies. I didn’t want to be the cliche where my dirty secret came back to bite me in the ass, ruining the life I had built for myself, and destroying the one good thing I found since moving to D.C. I didn’t want Aaron to think that just because I found Lauren again that it somehow meant I cared for him any less. That wasn’t the case. While there was of course half of me that was aching because it was trying to pull me back inside to see her again, the other part of me was begging me to stay with him, holding his hand, staring into his eyes, thinking about how good he had been for me since we met. That being said, I valued honesty. I thought I could trust Lauren to tell me the truth about herself while we were dating, but since my life had just been turned upside down, I was slowly realizing that she hadn’t been honest with me. That irked me. It pissed me off. While I certainly wasn’t going to let this go, I had to tell Aaron the truth. He knew about Lauren as an idea, and he knew just how much she meant to me. If I valued everyone else’s honesty— especially hers and his, then they deserved mine. Though I told Lauren everything about me, she hardly told me anything about herself. At the time, I thought it was just because she was shy and didn’t know how to tell me certain things. But now… I would have to face that later. For now, I needed to tell Aaron the truth.

We hadn’t even made it off the sidewalk yet. When I would tell him, and if he would decide that he never wanted to see me again, I would understand. But, if I waited until we got to the restaurant and sat down, he could potentially feel trapped. I didn’t want that to be the case. As much as it pained me, I was okay with letting him tuck tail and run now because of this. I couldn’t convince him to stay with me now that things were complicated with me knowing and loving with Lauren and me knowing and liking him— Not to mention that he told me that they had slept together in the past, too. If I was mindfucked about all of this, there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to be just as confused.

“What are you talking about?” Aaron asked me when my silence wasn’t followed by an explanation.

“Emily— That girl up there… I know her.”

“How?”

“That’s Lauren.”

He cocked a brow. “I don’t understand.”

“She recognized me, Aaron. She said my name. I looked at her, and I saw that it was really her. That’s Lauren Reynolds.”

“No. Her name’s Emily—”

“I don’t understand it either. I just know what I saw and heard.”

A ghost from my past had returned at the worst time imaginable. My worst fear of having Aaron not understand and work this out with me was slowly coming true. His hand that had been clasped around mine, released and fell to his side before he took a step back and looked away from me. I was losing him. I only just got him, and I was immediately losing him because of circumstances that I couldn’t control. I hated this. I hated Lauren…. No… No, I didn’t. But, I wanted to. I wished that I did. I couldn’t hate her, the same way I couldn’t hate Aaron for distancing himself from me now.

“Can you look at me for a moment?” I knew that I had no right to ask that of him, but I had to try. If I was going to lose him just as quickly as I gained him, then I wanted one last glance as I tried to explain. Aaron looked up slightly through his dark lashes. “I really like you.” This was fucking pathetic. “I like getting to know you, and I like hanging out with you. And, after last night, I really like the idea of going out with you.” He looked down again, making my heart drop to my stomach. “I know you think that this can’t be explained or fixed. And maybe it can’t. But I want to try. I want to know why and how this happened, and I want to figure out a way to make this work, because I want to keep hanging and going out with you. I just need you to give me an opportunity to talk to her so that I can put the pieces together. From there, I think there’s a real chance we can move on.”

Aaron pressed a palm to forehead like he was trying to stop his mind and thoughts from spinning and spiraling. “Are you sure it was really her?”

“Yeah.”

“How is that possible?”

“I’m hoping to ask her.”

“She never told me. It was nowhere in her file—”

“Aaron, I’m not seeing things this time. I’m not seeing what I want to see in order to prove a point to myself. Since meeting you, I haven’t seen flashes of her like I did when I was alone. It is her.”

He stared at me again. Moments seem to pass where we just stared at each other, both of us thinking up ways that we could proceed. On one hand, I wanted to go to lunch with him and forget that any of this ever happened; but, on the other hand, I needed to go back up there and talk to Lauren. I needed answers. In fact, I think all three of us needed answers. I needed to know why the hell she was working for the FBI and everyone seemed to think that her name was Emily. Aaron needed to know why I thought that his friend— someone he knew for years and leaned on after his wife’s death was suspected of having an entire, secret life that he didn’t know about. And, if anything, Lauren needed to know how I happened upon her at the BAU of all places in the world.

“Okay,” he gave in with a nod. “Talk to her.” He sounded like he didn’t seem too convinced about an optimistic outcome, though.

--------

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @peggy1999 @alex--awesome--22@oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322​ @rousethemouse 

[retrievablememories]

no manners | lucas

title: no manners pairing: lucas x black!reader genre: angst, implied smut request: “Aww thanks✨😊 Hope it’s not too much(I have a wild/creative imagination😌) Could you write a fic where Lucas is married to an African American who lives in America while he’s in China with WayV. One night after a call where Lucas suggests she go out with friends because she’s too lonely, she drinks too much and ends up going home with a stranger. When she wakes up she finds out what she did and a few days later she finds out she’s pregnant 💁🏿‍♀️that being said ain’t do it if it’s weird” word count: 5k warnings: workplace sexism/harassment, infidelity, alcohol use, mentions of intoxicated sex, mentions of pregnancy, emetophobia warning, mentions of blood, medical setting, angst!! just sad shit man a/n: hard to think of a good title, idk. the song’s about a sad relationship so close enough? ion fuck with drake anymore but passionfruit was the soundtrack for this one lol

You wake up in the middle of the night again—you’ve been doing it a lot lately. Your head aches a bit and your throat feels dry. You reach for the bottle of water on your nightstand and drink from it, though it doesn’t make you feel any better.

Pulling the covers back over yourself, you turn towards the empty side of the bed and feel that familiar pain settle in your body again. There are painkillers for physical discomforts, but what do you do for this kind of ache that comes from deep within the heart? You sigh and simply close your eyes, trying to block out the feeling. 

It’s been over 3 months since you’ve seen Lucas in person, which might as well be the equivalent of several lifetimes for you. You knew this was going to be inevitable once you got married, and even while you were still in the dating stage you experienced it. But you’re not sure if you could’ve accounted for just how intense it would feel now. It’s different now. You’ve made a home together—are going to have a family someday—and yet you barely get to spend any time together.

Burrowing deeper under the covers, you curl yourself up as small as possible, as if you can squeeze out the pain by leaving no more room for it.

Even work is bland now. You work at a firm for a fairly popular magazine in your city, and although your duties keep you busy most days, even those things are starting to lose their appeal. Your peers certainly don’t help.

“You look like you’ve been going through it,” Your coworker Daniel says over lunch. Your other coworker, Patrice, elbows them in the side for his indiscretion.

Your jaw clenches. You have to make an effort to relax your body and gather your thoughts before responding. The last thing you need right now is to lose your job, although you already know Lucas could support the both of you if necessary. “I’m fine. Just a little sleep deficit, but I’ll live.”

“Don’t mind him,” Sharia says, rolling her eyes. “We all get a little worn out sometimes. I hope things get better for you soon.”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” Daniel interjects, holding his hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Sharia’s right, though; we all know how you’re feeling.” No, you don’t, you think, resisting the desire to scoff in his face. “Work’s been pretty hectic the past few weeks.”

“Yep, real busy,” you say curtly, not wanting to draw this conversation out further. It’s clear that he thinks he’s making some kind of connection with you, despite him knowing jackshit about anything that’s going on in your life. His presumptuousness has always rubbed you wrong.

“Absolutely. Hopefully the big boss will ease up on us soon here.” You think Daniel is done, but then he speaks again, and Patrice puts her head in her hands. “Anyway, how’s everyone’s home life faring from all this? You and the husband doing all alright?” You know that last statement is specifically for you, and it makes you even more weary.

Sharia shifts uncomfortably as if she can feel the tension you’re experiencing. She’s the only one on your job who knows who you’re married to, as you didn’t want to let your other nosy colleagues in on your life. She’s the only one you can trust to keep your business on your front porch where it belongs. 

“We’re doing fine,” you say, keeping your voice light. “How are you and your girlfriend?”

“Actually—are you sure you and dear husband aren’t having any problems? You know...of the bedroom variety? Maybe that’s part of why you’ve been so stressed lately.”

“Jesus, Daniel!” Patrice exclaims in disbelief.

“You’re way out of line.” Sharia gives Daniel a warning look. “We’re at work, this isn’t gossip hour. I don’t think you need another HR report under your belt.”

You continue to sit with your hands clasped together, digging your nails into the back of your hand and watching the wall clock count down the minutes until the lunch break ends. Still 10 minutes left. If this were any other setting, any other person, you would’ve cursed Daniel out and likely given him a good backhanding, but he knows you can’t do anything here. And that’s precisely why he does it.

“What goes on in our lives is none of your business,” you say slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “I don’t know where you pull this crap from. You should listen to Sharia.”

“I hope that’s not a threat, because we all know the boss doesn’t care,” Daniel scoffs. “I’m not going anywhere, so you girls might as well get used to it.” Thankfully, he decides to take his leave at this point, collecting the rest of his lunch and stalking back to his office.

Patrice and Sharia exchange looks, and you merely sit and continue staring at the clock, watching the hands count to the next hour. It’s all you can do.

You’re relieved when you step through the front door of your house that night. Or maybe relief isn’t the word for it—but there is definitely a sort of deflation that happens once you pass through the threshold. You feel sapped and tired, and you can only think of scraping together whatever leftovers you can find because you’re too tired to cook a new meal.

As you walk into the bedroom, you remember that you and Lucas are supposed to video chat tonight, and that makes you feel a little better, but not as good as it could. You glance at the empty side of the bed and sigh heavily.

The rest of the evening passes by simultaneously too slow and too fast. It’s almost like the weight of your depression is dragging down the rest of the world and making time flow in a strange, nonsensical fashion. You eat your leftovers, watch bad reality TV, and even try to check a few work emails before your mind drifts off again. You keep replaying the events at lunch and getting upset again, though you don’t want to.

By the time the hour for your video call comes along, you’re curled up on the bed holding your phone tightly, waiting for it to ring and your husband’s name to flash across the screen. You answer almost instantly when it finally does.

“Yukhei,” you breathe out once his face appears on screen. The sight of him is enough to make your eyes sting immediately, and your throat is choked off with tears.

“Y/N!” Even through the phone speakers, his voice is loud enough to fill your room, and your sudden laughter at his excitement is enough to make the tears building in your eyes finally fall down. Lucas leans closer to the screen, his features drawing into a concerned expression. “Oh, shit—Y/N, what’s wrong?!”

You’ve stopped laughing now but the tears keep flowing, and you wipe your eyes futilely. For a while, all you can do is shake your head and keep crying as Lucas coos to you on the other end of the phone, growing increasingly concerned about your emotional state.

You put the phone down to wipe your face, and only then are you able to calm down enough to speak. “I just hate everything.”

Lucas frowns. “What do you hate, baby?”

“This fucking job, I hate Daniel, I hate being talked to like I’m an idiot, I hate…I hate you not being here.” You pick up the phone again. Your head hurts from crying, and you put your forehead in your hand as you look at Lucas on the other line.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I wish I could be there with you. You know I’d kick his ass for you...and anyone else who makes my baby cry.” He sighs and chuckles, though there’s no real humor to it. “Maybe I should kick my own ass too, then. I’m always away from you, and I know that doesn’t help. There are moments everyday when I wish I was there beside you, but…”

“It’s not like you can help it,” you say, and you feel powerless to do anything about it. “You shouldn’t...feel bad about it.” If only you could take your own advice.

“It’s impossible not to.” Lucas’s fingers drift to his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger like he does whenever he’s distressed. It’s become a subconscious thing for him at this point, but you always notice, and it comforts you to know your relationship can be a solace for him. “I have the other guys here, and it helps, but...who do you talk to when you’re feeling alone, besides me?”

“Ugh…” You lean back against the headboard. “No one, really...I don’t want to bother Sharia with my issues. Or my other friends. I feel like everyone already has their own stuff to deal with…”

Lucas leans forward again, as if he’s talking to you face-to-face. “My dear wife, I won’t pretend to be your therapist, but I think I have a prescription for you.”

You laugh and shake your head. “And what would that be?”

“You should go out. Take a few days off from work, leave the house, do whatever. But I really think you need to be around other people.”

“Go out?”

“Yes, with your friends! You’re cool with some people from work—Sharia, at least. Or your college friends, if not your coworkers. Anyone. I don’t want you to be spending all your time alone.” A melancholy note enters his voice. “And since I can’t be with you now, I want you to at least get out without me.”

“I don’t know...”

“What’s wrong?”

“The problem is that I miss you. Going someplace where you aren’t isn’t gonna help.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Lucas says, but his voice is warm with affection. “Just do it for me, please? You don’t think it hurts me to see my lovely wife so upset? I only want you to be happy.”

Your heart warms at that, and you look up at the ceiling, not wanting to start another wave of tears. “Well, okay...you’re right. I’ll try it this weekend. But I’m still gonna be thinking of you the whole time.”

Lucas smiles. He brings his ring finger close to the camera and kisses the band of metal. “For life, right?”

You mirror his actions. “Always.”

The next day, you catch up with Sharia at the copy machine. 

“Hey girl, how are you doing?” she asks, feeding more paper into the machine. “Not too bad after what that fool said yesterday, I hope.”

The mention of that leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you shake your head and pretend to brush it off. “I’m fine, no one’s thinking about that sleaze. I was wondering if you were up for hanging out this Friday? It’s kinda short notice, but me and some friends are planning to go to a club…”

Her eyes light up at that. “Oh? Which club are y’all going to?”

“The one on the same street as that new five-star restaurant that just opened up. Apparently it’s a bit exclusive, but one of my friends claims to have direct connections, so we’re gonna try it out.”

“Oh, to be rich and glamorous.” Sharia laughs. “Sure, I’ll go. I’m always up for some fun. Anything that’s not this damn job.”

“Great! You know where I live, just swing by around 8?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Sharia looks like she wants to say something else, but Daniel strolls into the room and she rolls her eyes, quickly turning back to the copy machine.

“Hey ladies, what’s going on?” Daniel leans against the wall as if he plans to pull a long conversation out of you, but you shake your head and walk out.

“Bye, Daniel.”

Sharia follows suit, grabbing her documents out of the machine and not even checking if they’re correct before following you out. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”

The Friday night that you head to the club is unexpectedly hot. It rained hard earlier that day and the air is still thick with humidity, which makes you grateful you’re gonna be spending most of your time indoors. Your friend’s connections come in to save the day, just as she promised, and your group of five is soon standing in the club without having to wait in a hot line all night.

Your friend leads everyone over to the VIP section and you all sit down, marveling at the club’s sleek interior. Everything is all glitter and glass and steel, giving the building an almost futuristic look.

“We need some drinks, there’s no way I’m spending all night in a club like this sober,” one of the girls suggests. The others agree and spend a few minutes playfully arguing over which drinks would be best to get before standing up.

Your friend notices you’re still sitting down. “Are you two coming with, or do you want us to order for you?”

“Just order something for me, doesn’t matter what it is,” you say, waving your hand. Sharia agrees. She waits until the others leave, then turns to you with a serious look.

“You should quit.” You stare at her, wondering if maybe you’ve misheard over the loud music.

“Quit? My job? Do you hate having me around that much?” you joke, though you feel confused and a little hurt.

“Now you know—what I’m saying is, we both know who your man is. I think you would be fine if you just quit and started looking for another job or even stopped working for a while. There’s no reason why you should have to stay there and keep putting up with Daniel’s shit.”

You don’t hate the idea. It’s one you’ve thought of numerous times before, but you’re not confident about taking the first step towards it. “I don’t think it’s that simple...having a job keeps me busy. I’d probably die of boredom if I didn’t have work. And anyway, I’m not really ready to be a housewife...especially considering that my husband isn’t even there half the time.” Your mood drops a little when you think of this. Sharia notices and tries to pull you back before you lose steam before the night even starts.

“Hey hey, it’s just a suggestion! You don’t have to do anything except whichever choice will be easiest for you. I’m just trying to look out for you girl, God knows no one wants to be harassed on the job everyday.”

“I hear you. But I don’t want to think about this anymore,” you groan. 

When the other girls come back, you take your drink and immediately down half of it in one go. You need something to distract you from the bad mood attempting to creep up on you.

“Well damn, okay! Someone’s eager!” you friend shouts, and everyone else laughs.

The rest of the night goes similarly, quickly spiraling out of your hands before you can really realize it. The alcohol makes you unable to think about any one thing for too long, which is what you want—maybe even need. You lose track of how many drinks you have and how many songs you dance to. All you can feel is the burning in your throat and the blissful emptiness of not having to think, worry, or stress. For once.

At some point, someone’s hands are on your body and you think maybe it’s one of your friends, but none of them would touch you like this—or kiss you like this. It’s not Lucas either, it can’t be because he’s still in China isn’t he? but you want it to be Lucas, it should be Lucas, so you return the kiss anyway, and there’s more touching and feeling—

until you end up in someone’s car, a taxi maybe, it’s not the car you came in but that doesn’t matter either, just the hands and the sensation of it all, of being touched by a person other than yourself when you haven’t felt it in a long time—

and maybe if you close your eyes for long enough it will be him.

The first thing you notice is the splitting sensation in your head. You don’t remember how you got into your bed or how much you had last night, but you haven’t experienced a hangover like this since your college years, so it must’ve been a lot. You groan and bring your hands to your head, also noticing that your bonnet is nowhere to be found. You must’ve been really wasted last night.

You reach for the water on your nightstand, but it’s not there. In fact, nothing’s there. Your hand meets air, and you suddenly feel slightly alarmed—where’s your nightstand? You finally crack one eye open only to see a room entirely different from the one in your home. 

You jolt up, which only makes your head throb harder, but you can’t be bothered with that right now when you’re in a strange place. Pure panic explodes in your chest as you look to the side and see a strange man sleeping next to you in bed—his bed. You can only see his top half, but you can assume he’s naked underneath, as you are equally nude.

“Fuck, no,” you blurt out. You throw the covers back and move as fast as you can to collect your strewn clothes, not really caring if you wake the man up at this point. You just know you’ve got to get the hell out.

You pull your clothes on and dial for an Uber on your phone, sprinting out of the bedroom just as the man starts rustling in the bedsheets. You realize his place is some sort of luxury apartment, which means he’s probably one of the many famous or semi-famous men who frequents that club. That idea makes you panic more as you unlock the door and run out of it; you don’t have the patience to wait on the elevator, so you take the stairs two at a time.

You’re full-on shaking by the time you get to the bottom and end up outside on the sidewalk. Some people passing by give you sideways glances at your presumed Walk of Shame, with you still wearing your club outfit, but there’s no room to think about their judgment. You’re too busy being eaten alive by your conscience.

The ride home is mostly silent. Your driver tries to strike up a conversation at first, but they realize you’re in no state to talk and leave you to your thoughts. With your hangover, the sun’s brightness feels like nails stabbing into your skull, but the pain gripping your heart still manages to be worse.

Your wedding ring feels especially heavy on your finger, like solid lead weighing you down. You badly want to take it off, but you also don’t want to remove one of the few things tying you to Lucas right now. The conflict tears you apart. You almost feel like your ring has become a sentient thing, burning your skin and pinching your finger with the threat of cutting it clean off.

You scrub yourself for what seems like an hour after you get home. When you finally get out of the shower, you end up in the armchair in your room, sitting in your towel and simply staring at the bed. Lucas’s side of the bed. The side of the bed where a picture of you two sits framed on the nightstand, one you took on the day of your wedding shoot. It seems to mock you now, saying, Look at what a good thing you had. Look at what you’ve destroyed.

The ring burns again.

Monday feels surreal in a sickly way.

You don’t call or text anyone over the weekend—not even your friends who are worried and demanding answers for what happened at the club. You feel like maybe you shouldn’t be, but you’re angry at their demands; why didn’t anyone stop you if they were so concerned? Weren’t they all there, too? Either way, it’s too late to think about “what ifs.” What’s done is done. You don’t want to talk or think about it anymore. But that’s impossible.

Stepping into work doesn’t feel real. No one knows anything except Sharia. All your colleagues still greet you like you’re the same person, the same hardworking employee and loving wife they all know. It’s better that they don’t know, but in some irrational way, this also makes you angry. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t treat me like I’m the same person. My life is ruined; nothing can ever be the same.

Nevertheless, you interact with them all like it’s any other Monday and play along with their tired banter even when you want to scream to the world that none of this matters. You do a decent job of avoiding Sharia during the first half of the day, occupying your time with assignments and then creating busywork when you finish those. 

Until lunch. Then there’s nowhere left to run.

You go to your car with the excuse of picking up your food today—even though you don’t intend to do anything but sit in the parking lot—and no one questions it but her. She follows you outside. You don’t even have the energy to tell her no. You’re at least glad that she doesn’t speak until both of you are safely in the car and away from other ears.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know if that matters,” you say blankly.

“Well, it does. You might have made a terrible mistake, but you’re still human.”

“There’s no way to be okay after this. Sharia, what the fuck am I gonna tell him?”

“There’s nothing you can tell him but the truth. He deserves to know that much, at least.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Y/N, it’s better to get this over with sooner than later. It’s only going to hurt worse if you wait. What would you do anyway, just ignore his calls?”

You grip the steering wheel. “...Maybe. If I have to. I don’t know.”

Sharia sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do with your life. But he will need to know at some point.”

“He’ll hate me,” you blurt out, a tear already rolling down your cheek. You try to stop them from coming, but this is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to cry since it happened. You’ve surprised even yourself with how long you avoided this part. The dam has no choice but to break, sending you into a cascade of tears as you rest your head on the steering wheel. 

Sharia’s arms are warm around you, but her embrace does nothing to make you feel better. You feel as if you don’t deserve this kind of reprieve from her. And certainly not from Lucas.

A couple weeks later, you sit in your OBGYN’s waiting room, your body stiff with fear and anxiety.

You haven’t talked to Lucas in the entire time since you went to the club that Friday night. You know there is no way he’d go that long without talking to you, though—which is why you blocked him on every avenue you could think of. To be safe, you also blocked all of this group members, making sure there would be no way for him to get into contact with you. 

You feel like you’ve lost your mind with the lengths you’ve gone to—what if he thinks you’re kidnapped or dead?—but you’re more afraid of facing him. The thought of looking in his eyes while your transgression swims in the back of your mind makes your stomach pitch to the floor.

And you would like to think that’s the only thing making you sick these days. But you can’t ignore the odd pains and nausea and sudden spotting even if you wanted to. It’s what has landed you in this doctor’s office today, with your hands tucked between your knees and your head spinning as you try to ignore the bitter taste of bile rising in your throat. 

Eventually, you can no longer push it back, and you go to the bathroom to empty your stomach—even though there’s not much there to begin with.

When you leave the restroom, a nurse is standing outside in the lobby, her expectant eyes landing on you.

“Mrs. Wong?”

“That’s me,” you say weakly.

“Hi! Come on back so we can get your vitals. I hope you’re doing okay today…” You follow her into the back rooms to get poked and prodded, your blood pressure and temperature taken and your height and weight jotted down on a chart. You don’t pay much attention to what she’s saying. Every word sounds like it’s being filtered through a foggy telephone. 

You return to reality when she hands you the transparent cup and the pregnancy test to take, and things become even more painfully clear when another nurse comes in to take your blood. You know the blood test results will take longer to come back, but you requested it anyway. You have to be sure.

Despite the nurses’ cheerful demeanor, you feel cold and isolated when you use the test in the small restroom. The feeling only worsens when the doctor confirms the reading and happily shakes your hand, unaware of or unwilling to acknowledge your dread.

It’s positive.

That weekend, you finally unblock Lucas. Your mind is in a tangle while you do it, but you can’t avoid him any longer.

You don’t know if he’ll even answer your call. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Maybe he’s busy with practice or even asleep. But what makes you feel worse is that you know he’d never ignore you if he wasn’t otherwise occupied.

His name only stays on your phone for a few seconds before he’s immediately picking up the video call, his face suddenly appearing in full color before you. He seems panicked, almost dropping the phone in his haste to answer it. When he rights the screen again and sets it on a steady surface, his expression is difficult to decipher. Then it turns into pure discontent.

“Do you have an explanation for this?” You’ve never seen Lucas this irritated before, and it makes you tremble. It can only get worse from here. “I called and texted and nothing got through. I look on your social media and I’m blocked on every platform. What is this, Y/N?”

You can only shake your head. The words are stuck in your throat. You chew the inside of your cheek, unsure how to respond.

“This isn’t a joke, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Your grip on the phone tightens as your stomach ties itself into a knot. You feel sick again, but you can’t throw up now. “Yukhei, I went t-to the doctor, I-I’m pregnant.”

Lucas pauses, and various emotions flit across his face in the span of a few seconds. His eyebrows draw together in something akin to confusion and hurt. “You’re...pregnant? Why the hell did you need to block me for that? Please don’t tell me this about my career again. Baby, listen to me—”

“Yukhei, I’m only 4 weeks.”

Lucas’s words drop off completely. His body stills, and for a moment you wonder if the video has paused. Your palms sweat and your skin prickles. He sits back in his chair and looks off to the side as if he’s trying to gather words. Finally, he says,

“What are you telling me? Because this isn’t what I’m hearing, is it? This is some kind of prank, right?” His voice gets louder and more frantic towards the end, though he struggles to keep from outright yelling at you. “If you want to play games, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say—there’s no excuse for it, but I was drunk, I-I was lonely, I just don’t know—” You form a fist with your left hand, digging your nails into your palm, and the warm metal of your ring against your skin threatens to burn you again.

Lucas lowers his head and pushes his hands through his hair. He keeps his head down like this for a while as you stumble and try to explain yourself, your words devolving into barely decipherable sobs.

“Shut up. Just shut up!” His words are muffled from him covering his face. He’s never talked to you like that before, which makes you want to cry more, but you don’t say another word. “I just don’t want to hear it. I’ve sat here everyday and thought of you, counting down days until I could come back to the U.S. to see you, and this is what you give me.”

You merely sit and listen with your heart trying to burst in your chest. His words feel like knives being thrown at you; the pain is practically physical.

When he finally takes his hands away from his face and looks up, his eyes are wet and red with tears. “This is impossible. I need time to think about this.”

“I-impossible? Wait, Yukhei—”

He hangs up the call before you can finish speaking, though you aren’t sure what more you could’ve said to him anyway.

With nothing but your screen staring back at you, a sense of unease seeps into your body and makes your limbs stiff. You want to reach out for him, want to make him see that you never intended to hurt him this way. You don’t want to lose everything you’ve built this soon. And yet, you can already see it all slipping through your hands.

You are more alone than ever.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

The Words upon the Window Pane | Chanyeol

Genre: Smut, Angst (only a wee bit), PwP

Pairing: Auhor!Chanyeol x Reader

Warnings: Top!/Dom!Chanyeol, fingering, unprotected wall sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses!), subtle dom/sub themes, swearing/cussing, dirty talk, love bites  

Summary: The relation between Logic and Passion is often difficult for artists and certainly so when the involved parties dabble in words. Because language has the power to conceal the truth, to say what otherwise might not be said.

The words upon the window pane.

However, one night, a mouth is brave enough to at last utter them.

And to bring about unexpected consequences.

Author’s Note: The title is derived from the play of the same name by W.B. Yeats, who is, as you may or may not know, one of my favourite poets and greatest inspirations as of late. Furthermore, this is the first EXO smut piece to be written by this wee birdy, which hopefully shall not disappoint more experienced EXO-Ls.

All in all, I hope you enjoy the work of a feather.

Making a living as an author is not easy, especially when starting out and having only a single book to one’s name. However, Voice is not merely a literary tool to use in order to be heard, since it can also realistically become audible when speaking. All in all, it remains a fluent phenomenon and so it is of great benefit to storytellers to have mastery over it. To provide experiences that ignite vivid imagery thanks to simply creating an ambience with sound when not craftily doing the same on the page. Such is the talent of the author rapidly grown popular online due to a deep voice and funny personality, thousands of women drooling over the tailored experiences provided to them on multiple platforms.

But none of them has ever gotten the real deal, their sensual emotions remaining one-sided whereas those of a newbie novelist are answered.

Sometimes.

The relationship started after the romance department of the same publishing house contracting the famous erotic writer took a bold chance by offering a contract to an unknown name having just completed a manuscript about an innocent coffee shop romance. During the meeting with the assigned editor, icy pale locks wandered into the modern cafeteria and toward the table where a conversation about the next steps towards actual publishing took place, sitting down wordlessly and merely observing. Withal, basalt irises blatantly ignored rapidly flushing rosy cheeks on the adjacent seat, focused intently on the ones across the table that tried to maintain a steady composure.

Yet it crumbled bit by bit as genuine interest was shown during a spontaneous proposal to drink coffee together sometime after the editor held a brief round of introductions at the end of the important chat, which had gained an unintentional third participant. Piece by stiff piece got chipped away over warm beverages thereafter, talking about upcoming manuscripts and the professional giving a newbie a couple of tips to not stumble and, perhaps, fall without hopes of getting up.

And were entirely smoothed out among the sheets after the daring kiss when goodbye came on the first proper dinner date, Chanyeol leaning in without hesitance to rapidly turn a chaste caress of the cheek into sin once having been escorted safely to the front door of one’s own roof.

To make a heart fall for one which is unbound, according to the rumours spoken by the female tongues which all supposedly possess a sensual experience of sorts concerning the novelist. Notwithstanding, one can talk but not say anything, let alone the truth. Withal, the gossip has expanded while being in a strange type of relationship, always being the first to propose something to do and bleached smooth strands simply agreeing if the busy schedule allows it, of course. Spontaneous proposals for a movie night or trying out a new café are one-sided, the first time drinking coffee together being the sole occasion on which it came from the distant beloved. However, during the opportunities to be together, it never fails to feel genuine.

Sincere in spite of the mouths believing it is merely about sex, warning to get out now before it is too late.

The logical ship has left the safe haven. 

It is too late.

Regardless of bravely sailing in an individual sea, the doubt can never be kept at bay since it lurks as a kraken in the darker waters coming up on the journey every now and again. After all, the fans of the deep voice catering supposedly “exclusive” experiences for them would loathe the fact their imaginary lover actually has a girlfriend. Moreover, the serpents roaming the office keep telling tales that steadily grow arms and legs, each limb stemming from the period in which minds were apart.

Those spans of time increase in frequency.

Lunch grows lonelier.

Days are spent in isolation.

Reassuring words do not hold significance on the floor of the publishing house nor on those of one of our apartments on a lucky night.

No acknowledgement.

All there is, is vagueness.

Just something. 

Something.

Undefinable.

Certainly not pretty or comforting.

Empty. Yes, that is the best way to describe it.

Hollow, lonely, one-sided.

Unrequited.

And it takes away the hunger at the dinner table beneath the luxurious roof, the expensive wine and home-cooked meal using high-quality ingredients holding as much inherent value as a shilling in the gutter. So the fork is put down, the bite laboriously swallowed and focus averted from the porcelain plate presenting little yet seeming too stacked.

‘Baby, are you alright?’ Head cocked to the side in wonder, Chanyeol stops mid-bite, sensing something is off.

Something.

Always something is off. 

Right now, it finds a voice in a lowly muttered remark as disappointed fingers shove the still full plate and cutlery away as far as possible. The stomach can live with the stone in it, like the heart slowly freezing itself thanks to the vicious tales of betrayal can continue to exist in ice. After all, even this week’s audio consisting of ‘’sexy’’ unboxing ramblings and testing out toys sent by mistresses somewhere else is but a mere drop in the overflowing bucket. ‘I’m not hungry.’

The limit has been reached.

End of the line.

Of this.

Us.

If there even ever has been a happy chronicling couple.

‘You’ve barely eaten.’ The unsuspecting fork picks up a perfectly grilled asparagus, endeavouring the feed a soul starved of happiness. A perfectly useless attempt at making things right for the culprit knows very well what goes on behind the scenes that are enacted every time at the workplace, the little faked though credible moments of two youngsters being solely friends but perhaps a bit more. No one knows for sure, but they do assume. Gossip has a way of being heard, even when feigning to ignore it in favour of personal fantasies. ‘At least have a few more vegetables.’

‘Did it...’ A wry smile carves itself on a face which is on the edge of tears, remembering every word said at the collective coffee machine in the cafeteria alongside the lovesick comments on every digital upload and equally sensual reaction to a novel novel. How can the detailed storyteller not notice the burning water droplets searing their way to the lash line? 

Begging. 

Begging to fall.

To be noticed.

Because they have had to hide so bloody long in loneliness.

Denied.

A significant detail.

‘Did it mean anything?’ God forbid that the words spilt between the sheets, on dates and in secrecy in the coffee corner did not hold any meaning. Withal, knowing how writers are for the craft is part of one’s own personality, there are no better tricksters. Words can be made pretty, cunningly serving to conceal the ugly truth. 

‘What? Did what mean anything? Babe, what are you on about?’ The uncomprehending gravely worried furrowed brows relax, raven irises softening as they discover the tale of the Ice Queen’s heart and damnably igniting the thawing process. Looks can kill, as is the word on the street, and the big pale wolf knows it judging by the gentle smile only reserved for his foolish mistress. ‘You’ve been listening to gossip again. Look, I’ll say it again and I still mean it. I love you, Y/N. Only you. You ought to know that by now.’

The supposedly well-meaning palm resting between the abandoned dishes is not lovingly covered, digits remaining apart instead of entwining in blissful union. Instead, the chair is pushed back as the napkin that formerly rested on the lap is viciously thrown onto the table surface. Voice is barely controlled, dangerously close to cracking yet forced to maintain steady fury. ‘Don’t fucking lie to me! I know this means nothing.’

‘Means nothing? This means nothing?’ The actions are fiercely mimicked, the pleading tone in speech overruling the fabricated calm demeanour. ‘It does, babe. It really does.’

‘Yeah, right. As if you haven’t said that to one of those horny dolls who gladly listen to their fantasy boyfriend or read about all the wonderful things you’d do to them. What did you call them again? Your honeys?’ There is no stopping the jeering guided by the incomparable ache rendering every nerve paralyzed, an alternative ego who feels betrayed rising with every second of the outburst. 

In the end, she, too, is one of many.

I am nothing. 

‘Babe, please-’ Agonizingly following footsteps attempt to reason, begging to stay for a proper vis-á-vis to resolve this “problem” while making their way to the hallway. 

Evidently without success. ‘Oh, piss off. I’m sure you had others in the time I was gone.’ The searing tears on lashes in the wee hall finally stream down the cheeks, lost in bittersweet memories of a time ruled by naivety. When every touch was so certain of love, felt protective and was believed to be sincere. 

Notwithstanding, that was then. 

This is now. 

‘It really meant something to me, you know? I fucking gave myself to you because I stupidly trusted you, Chan! You were my first.’ A shake of the head brings about enough steadiness to remain coherent in speech, to at least keep a total breakdown at bay a little longer. The battle is almost won, a little bit more perseverance needs to be put in before all might become actually well. ‘But I could’ve, no, should’ve known better. So fuck off and leave me alone.’

Just as a hand reaches towards the knob of the front door, a firm palm wraps painfully around the left wrist. Once that power was loved, but now it is just that: hurt. 

And it wants… needs to be left behind.

To make it pay for the solitude.

The agony needs to face the consequences.

‘No.’

The pain in the shape of the man who was believed to make up the world.

Stupid.

We both only have our stories to speak honestly in because they are the sole place where it is possible to be true. 

Funny how a broken heart ignites a sense of creativity to exploit and there is a sudden haste to make use of it. Or so the mind wants this to be the reason behind the futile struggle for freedom for the real reason is the simple need to get away before breaking the character of the hard-headed sneering Ice Queen and leave oneself in fragments on the battlefield. ‘Let. Me. Go.’

A vicious tug makes feet stumble away from the entryway and slam into the wall opposite the stairs, Chanyeol’s face mere inches away and obsidian irises burning with sorrowful rage that has grown from incomprehension. All acting halts at once, alarmed breath coming out ragged as the powerful gentleman is sought frantically on a quietly raging beautiful expression. ‘I won’t. Not until you finally listen to me and know who you belong to, young lady.’ 

Slender digits clad in a chic ink-black jacket roughly push aside underwear, unapologetically disappearing beneath the skirt to exert sexual dominance as lips powerfully nullify all chances at protest. ‘This is mine. Only mine. All I can think about these days, so much so I can’t even write without giving you a role in my novel.’

The possessive growling fuels the heat below, slowly reducing the hurtful stretch, as all vocabulary is lost in the marks left behind on the throat by stark white teeth. Miraculously, the ability to resist the temptation remains although it falters and starts to stutter in the strong secure warmth of a familiar palm at the end of the spine. ‘I- I don’t be- believe you.’

‘Who do you think is more credible?’ A rough mind-boggling thrust goes paired with the branding being interrupted to snarl against a slightly open mouth, dominant despite oddly affectionately resting foreheads against one another and chuckling as haphazard fluttery palms rest on broad shoulders. ‘The man who loves you or some women you don’t even know?’

In spite of being barely able to respond, a piece of hateful Logic remains and is capable of jeering and mocking the question that should have served to set things right. ‘But y- you could’ve fucked.’

‘I didn’t. Listen to me, young lady.’ The hand that formerly rested on the small of the lower back rises to envelop the throat, forcing a lock of gazes while enchantingly cutting off access to air. ‘Ever since we met, I’ve been yours. I’d never give anyone else a role in my novels because nobody inspires me like you do.’

‘D- Don’t stop.’ There is too much deliria to persist in protesting, each movement beneath fabric erasing the thought of resisting the platinum wolf as soon as it arises. Instead, it gives rise to memories of beautiful naive nights that make up the horror and delight of an insane mistress of letters, both inside the pages and outside.

Throwing the heart back into bittersweet love. 

‘Ah, there she is. There’s the helpless little slut I know.’ With an ashamedly wet noise, slim fingers undo the bodily connection that had been greedily gone along with, leading to an inevitable displeased whine that evokes a lovely dark chuckle.

A nudge of the nose asks to follow the focus of the seemingly only sane mind, see what the writer wants to be noticed without resorting to loathsome spoon-feeding. It is all in the details, that is where the heart of the tale lies. ‘See that?’ 

Lashes flutter innocently as gaze wanders lower and lower to restricting dusk-shaded denim, wordlessly remarking on the considerable outlined shape that the idiotic heart and persona meant to have walked out the door greatly want to exploit. ‘Only you do that to me, Y/N.’ An almost sweet peck on the forehead turns attention upward briefly before receiving another on the lips, after which a command makes hands act in too enthusiastic desirable greed. ‘Undo the zipper.’

It takes little time nor effort to force down sturdy and elastic fabric to bare burning desire to the chill air in the hallway. And it takes even less than that very same moment to be pinned against the wall once again, thighs supported by iron hands promising to never let go, and directly connect in body and soul. 

Willingly.

Beautifully.

‘Fuck, every time is like the first. I remember our, grm, hrm, first night. How you begged me to go harder-’ the speed accelerates, snarls growing more and more savage with every advance as behaviour, too, becomes wonderfully harsher, ‘rough you up. All the while acting like an innocent doe, turning me on. Mewling, pinned to the bed, forced to take me. God, I love it when you’re like that. Helpless. Powerless. Submissive.’ 

Every word is accentuated by an animalistic thrust, a sweet kiss on the side of the neck contrasting with the teeth leaving behind plum marks of possession at equal intervals. A low rumble of delight at platinum locks being pulled on vibrates in the buff chest lovingly keeping the spine against the wall, rejoicing in the flowing waterfall of mere meek noises. 

Exactly as we were during the first night.

Loving now as we had before. 

Honestly. 

Snarling sweet nothings against skin while erasing every thought in the chase for the satisfaction of primal desire. When tears of analyzed sadness turned into those of unadulterated pleasure. ‘Crying as you take my cock deep inside that dripping little pussy.’

‘Cha- Chanyeol-’ There are no words to break through the haze of bittersweet nostalgia, leaving the sentence unfinished. It does not matter for all focus is turned towards reaching temporary enlightenment as fast as possible in the most savage manner. 

‘Cum on that cock, baby. Cream that fucking cock.’

Any sense of resistance that somehow managed to linger, loathing Logic deeming the act wrong in every aspect and begging for liberation, is erased in an instant as the command is pressed onto firm lips. 

It is wonderful. 

Incredibly gorgeous.

Having Chanyeol wrap his storytelling palm around the throat once more as the other presses bodies together until there cannot possibly be any distance left. Wolfish grunts fall from cushiony lips, chanting maddening “mine, mine, mine”s, while sprinting during the final bit of the primitive race, soon reaching the white light found between shivering thighs. 

Who are crying silently in a paradoxical mixture that cannot be kept alive consisting of sensual delight, heartbroken self-hatred and rage directed towards loved pale locks. 

Tears to, fortunately, be noticed once reason returns enough to no longer be under the influence of the desirable beast beneath the skin. Henceforth, it is the incredible author who affectionately wipes away the droplets running over the cheeks as onyx irises soften in comprehension of pain. ‘Hey, don’t cry, Y/N. Remember what I promised you?’ 

A head shake shows ignorance because there have been a great number of promises until now, which is acknowledged by the low chuckle that never fails to allow the usual guard to be let down and now disrupts the quiet panting betraying a sliver of glad exhaustion. The simple sound never fails to make the chest puff a little in pride and veins to bask in a loving warmth, even after being frozen in place without hopes of crumbling thanks to the vivid rumours floating around the office. ‘I know I have promised you a lot, but one thing is that I’d never make you cry because I’d never dare to break your heart. I genuinely love you, seriously am head over heels for you. Can you believe me when I say that?’

It is hard to respond negatively when bodies are still one and foolishly trusted palms envelop the cheeks, resulting in wavering speech on the verge of cracking. Withal, a little bit of strength is gathered from the tight grip on defined biceps engraved with ink. ‘I wa- want to, but... the gossip...’

‘Listen.’ A long tender kiss muffles the sobs aching to be released alongside the gasp at the sudden hollow feeling when the physical spell is lifted. Another one asks for focus on talking things over instead of paying attention on the faint sound of liquid dripping onto the hallway tiles. ‘You crying makes me want to cry because it hurts me to see you like this. It really does, babe. And people will always talk, but, perhaps, it might help if we go public? I have an interview soon.’

‘People will think I’m only dating you for your money.’ No matter if a statement will be made, the way of thought lies outside the influence of words. Authors know this first and foremost for each sentence that is penned down fails to fully convey what might be going on in vivid imagination and thus fails to be entirely understood. 

A bittersweet smile tugs on the corners of the mouth as messy snow white locks fall obscure the sight of lips drawn into a stern line speaking melancholically, mocking oneself. ‘I wouldn’t mind if you’d do.’

With more fierceness than expected, an answer to the rhetorical assumption bursts from a panicked mouth uncensored, clutching the soft fabric of clothes as if not doing so will induce an unbridgeable abyss. ‘But I don’t!’

‘I know that, Y/N. I know.’ Thumbs start to caress the sides of the face, somberly smoothing the anxious sorrow in self-reflection. ‘You know I hate losing, be it games or bets, but-  but I- I-‘ Breaths grow short as tears start to brim in the corner of beautiful almond-shaped eyes. Hands fall away from the cheeks to wrap around the middle, the waist caught in a sturdy grip. Foreheads rest against each other and the arms of a claimed mistress wrap around the neck, fingertips playing with the pale strands at the back. ‘I would scorn myself if I’d lose you.’

‘You’ll lose readers if we go public.’ After all, not everyone enjoys a real life romance and certainly not those imagining one individual as their partner while he is, in truth, already faithfully bonded to another woman. 

‘Doesn’t matter, I don’t care. If they’re true fans, they’ll be happy for us.’ Chanyeol’s voice has renovated its ocean deep steadiness, tiny lights appearing out of nowhere to illuminate a sudden bright cheery idea in a nightly gaze creating a bit of distance. ‘You know what? I’ll buy you a ring and a matching one for myself so everyone can see you’re mine.’ A palm shows itself from behind the small of the back to grab the left wrist and trace over the second-to-last digit. ‘To wear on this finger.’

‘You’d do that?’

‘Yes.’ The breathless chuckle is strangely melancholic yet delighted, the curious combination taking over demeanour entirely. ‘Yes, of course. Anything to keep you with me.’ The mere embrace suddenly turns into an inescapable hug, broad shoulders blocking out the world that wants to be temporarily forgotten. ‘I want you with me, only you. Please, stay with me. Here.’ The nose often kissed in the morning or cheekily out of sight of the publishing house staff nuzzles the side of the neck, whispering against the warm skin. ‘I want you to move in.’

‘Is that a wish or a command? I’m my own person, you know?’ The weak attempt at humour is seemingly appreciated, Chan tangibly chuckling before sighing in relief when being kissed on the top of the head. 

‘There she is, there’s my good clever girl.’ Foreheads come to rest against each other once more in the air scented by whatever remains of dinner, perspiration and our perfumes combined, creating a weird musky howbeit fruity undertone. The chin is lifted by a curled finger after calmly being put to rest against the wall instead of being fully at the mercy of the writer’s engraved arms. ‘But you know very well what I mean, young lady.’

‘I do,’ fingertips bashfully run over the side of the storyteller’s neck, leaving behind a growling trail of anticipating goosebumps before rising to comb through pale strands, ‘sir.’

‘Don’t.’ 

A peck. 

‘Tease.’ 

A kiss. 

‘Me like that.’ 

Lip caught between teeth. 

And freed once having clearly asserted dominance. ‘I’m yours.’ Although the inquiring peck on the cheek does not partake in the sensual teasing but is severe in character. ‘And you’re mine?’

Catching on to the need for credibility, the erotic novelist acknowledges it while sweetly yet sincerely murmuring. ‘Entirely yours. Not just in stories or audios, in real life as well. As long as possible, until we no longer breathe. This I promise.’

And thus this part of our tale ends, the fragment of the middle part leading to the end.

Of that which ink cannot fully capture on paper, in sounds or on skin.

Withal, it is not necessary because we have each other for inspiration and retellings.

Musing.

In love.

In medias res. 

[highfivecalum]

Dark In Your Heart {CEO!CH} 10

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine 

◈◈◈

Maddie sighed tiredly and happily as the water warmed her cold body up. She was warm all night, with Calum’s arm draped across her waist and his body weight and heat keeping her warm, but once she rolled out of bed to pee and brush her teeth with the toothbrush the hotel offered, her naked body was covered in goosebumps and nothing sounded better than a hot shower.

She left Calum in the hotel bed, sound asleep and looking so peaceful, and turned the water on. He was a hard sleeper, she remembered from the first night they spent together in his house, so she didn’t think the shower would wake or disturb him. Though, his voice echoing throughout the huge bathroom told her otherwise. “Showerin’ without me?” She spun around, licking her lips at the sight of him; still bare, bed head, and neck covered in marks from her mouth.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” Her eyes never left his as he opened the glass shower door and shut it behind him, the water instantly warming him up due to the waterfall shower head. 

“Wouldn’t have minded bein’ woken up to this.”

Maddie turned around to wash the rest of the shampoo out of her hair and her breath hitched in her throat when she felt Calum behind her; semi-hard cock pressed against her ass and his hands on her body. She tilted her head back, resting it on Calum’s chest, and let his hands roam her body like they were trying to memorize every inch of it. Which, unbeknownst to Maddie, they were.

Calum’s lips attached to Maddie’s neck, sucking yet another mark onto it, and she moaned when his fingers found her clit. He spun her around, backing her up until her back was pressed against the glass door of the shower and admired her with her eyes closed and head tilted back.“So pretty.” Calum mumbled against her skin, his fingers moving at an agonizingly slow pace. “So pretty like this. So pretty always.”

Maddie still couldn’t believe it had happened. Couldn’t believe that she was tangled in sheets with Calum, again, and couldn’t believe that she was being fingered in the shower with Calum. With her boss. She wasn’t sure what it would lead to; if it was just sex or more, but as he slipped his length inside of her and moaned out her name, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

◈◈◈

“So,” Calum cleared this throat, finally saying something after driving in complete silence for an hour. The only thing being heard since they got into the car was the radio. Maddie looked away from the window, seeing that Calum wasn’t looking in her direction, and her stomach filled with nervous butterflies.

After they had sex in the shower, they finished getting ready, packed their stuff, and checked out of the hotel rooms. It was all done in silence and even though it seemed Calum wanted her as much as Maddie wanted him, she wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. 

She didn’t know if it was just sex or if he genuinely liked her, felt something for her, and saw something with her, like Maddie did with him. And she was too scared to ask. Too scared of rejection. 

“We should probably talk, yeah?”

“That would be good.” Maddie mumbled, nervously picking at her black nail polish that was freshly painted just a few days before. They were now only ten minutes away from her apartment building and with it being a Sunday, she knew this conversation would have to happen before she got out of the car. Neither of them wanted to have it in the office.

“I don’t- I don’t really know where to start, honestly.” Calum admitted with a sheepish laugh. He slowed the car down, stopping at a red light, and looked at Maddie. She looked adorable in his hoodie and a pair of leggings on, her body practically swimming in his green Empathy hoodie that looked much better on her. “I’m not too good at this kind of stuff.”

“Well,” Maddie cleared her throat and sat up, no longer hunched down in the passenger seat. She was on high alert now, her nervous and anxiety eating away at her. “I mean, what do you- do you want this?” Maddie gestured to her and Calum. “Like, us?”

Calum licked his lips and pressed on the gas once the light turned green again and turned left down Maddie’s street. He thought silently. Did he want her? Want that with her? He knew on the physical spectrum he wanted her more than anything else, but something serious? Calum couldn’t get his thoughts in order.

Taking Calum’s silence as hesitance and indifference, Maddie nervously spoke up again. They had already slept with each other, a handful of times now after last night, what else did she have to lose? Her job, maybe. But she could always find a new one of those. “Becau-Because I like you, Calum. And if you don’t feel the same way-”

“I never said that,” Calum effectively cut her off, Maddie’s words dying on her tongue as she swallowed nervously. Calum sighed, pulling up outside of Maddie’s apartment building, throwing the car into park. He ran a ring clad hand through his hair and sighed. Looking at Maddie, he couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, it was way more than just physical attraction. “I like you, Maddie, I do.” She could sense a but coming.

“But?” 

Calum thought, but what? There weren’t any ifs, ands, or butts in his head. There usually was, but with Maddie, it was different. She knew him, in and outside of the workplace. Knew what made him tick, what he liked, how he operated. There weren’t any buts. “But nothing,” Calum finally exhaled. “I want you. All of you. And- and okay, well, maybe there is a but,” Calum smiled sheepishly the dreaded word came and Maddie rolled her lips into her mouth, gnawing on her bottom one as Calum furrowed his brows together. “But, I don’t wanna rush anything. I don’t wanna announce it or put a label on it just yet. I want to know that this is real and that it’s going to work out, you know? I don’t- I don’t want the office to find out before we really know this is happening.”

At that, Maddie was relieved. The only thing she was worried about was the office; everybody finding out and their reactions. She knew they would jump to conclusions once they heard about her and Calum, they would all say how she fucked her boss to get her job, and although she did fuck her boss, it wasn’t to get her job. She was completely capable of getting that good of a job on her own. 

“I’m so glad you said that,” Maddie laughed happily and smiled.

“Yeah?” Calum’s smiled mirrored Maddie’s and he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, and kissed the back of her hand. He didn’t want to drop her off, he didn’t want her to go home, he wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted- no, needed- to know her better. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he barely even knew the girl he was so infatuated with. “Don’t go inside. Come over? I’ll cook us dinner.”

“You cook?” Maddie cocked an eyebrow at him.

With a wink, Calum put the car into drive, and spoke, “I do a lot of things, love. You’ll learn.” 

◈◈◈

“Tell me, Madeline,” Her mother licked her lips clean of the wine she had just sipped and laced her fingers together, resting her chin on her hands, as she looked at her daughter whom she hadn’t seen in weeks. “How is everything? We’ve barely had time to talk about it.”

“That’s because you never call me back.” Maddie pointed out, biting the piece of lettuce off of her fork, not even flinching at the way her mother's smile fell. It wasn’t a secret that Maddie and her mother had a rocky relationship. It happened when Maddie’s mother and father got a divorce, and not even two months later, her mother was remarrying. And then another marriage. And another. “How’s husband number five? What’s his name? Clark?”

“Clark is fine, Madeline, but we’re not here to talk about him. We’re here to talk about you.” Maddie fell back in the chair she was in and gulped down her wine. Maddie’s mother, Heather, was hard headed and bossy, and as Maddie would call her: a bitch. “Are you seeing anybody? I know it’s only been a few weeks since you and your last boyfriend split, so,-”

“It’s been over a month, almost two, and his name is Eric, mother.”

“Right, of course.” Heather smiled although it was fake and Maddie knew it. Being the youngest child out of three boys, Maddie being the only girl, she got tired of her mother trying to force a relationship that she knew neither of them wanted. “That doesn’t answer my question. Are you seeing-”

“Yes,” Maddie cut Heather off. “I’m seeing somebody. It’s- it’s new.”

“Oh?” Heather’s eyes lit up. “What’s his name?”

“Calum.” Maddie found herself smiling at the thought of him and how just thirty-six hours ago they were completely forgetting about the spaghetti Calum was eating and going at it on every flat surface they could find, the kitchen island they ate on included.

“Calum what, dear?”

“Hood. Calum Hood.”

Something clicked in Heather’s mind and she was slowly bringing her wine glass away from her mouth, staring at Maddie who was too busy moving the lettuce around on her plate, thinking about him and how deep she was in already. 

“Sweetheart.” Heather placed her hand over Maddie’s stopping her hand and fork and pulled her eyebrows together in confusion. 

“What?”

“Isn’t Calum Hood your boss?”

Shit, Maddie thought. She remembered the brief conversation she had with her mother, telling her about her new job and name dropped Calum a few times, telling her that he was a hard ass, but she enjoyed working for it. She couldn’t believe her mother had actually remembered that.

“Oh, good lord.” Heather pinched the bridge of her nose and Maddie bit the corner of her mouth as she awaited her mother's response. It wouldn’t be good, that much Maddie knew. In all honesty, Maddie couldn’t believe that she had forgotten she told her mother about her job and her boss and her mother, out of all people, remembered and not her. “Have you slept with him yet?”

“Mom!” Maddie exclaimed. Her sex life was none of her mother’s business, but she knew that her mother had a way with things and one way or another, the truth of Maddie and Calum’s sexual history would come out. “Yes. We have.”

“Don’t tell me you’re just with him for his money, Madeline. Nobody likes a gold digger.”

The fork in Maddie’s hand dropped, clinking against the glass plate her salad was in, and she nearly scream-laughed in her mother’s face. Talk about irony. “You’re joking, right? You’re the biggest hypocrite in the world, mother. You are literally the definition of a gold digger.”

“Madeline-”

“Rick? A plastic surgeon. Robert? A lawyer. Andrew? An orthodontist. I could go on.”

“This isn’t about me, Madeline Hazel. You really think a man as successful as Calum Hood is interested in his assistant?” Heather scoffed. “Please, Madeline. He’s probably gone through dozens of assistants, sleeping with them and kicking them to the curb. Don’t think you’re any different.” 

“Wow.” At that point, Maddie had had enough. She could wish and wish for her mother’s approval and support that she had secretly always wanted, but she knew she would never get it. She wasn’t her brothers. So, standing up, Maddie threw her coat on and grabbed her purse. “This has been really nice, but I’m leaving now.”

“Madeline!” Heather called after her but Maddie didn’t turn around once, she kept going, determined to leave the restaurant without turning back and causing a scene that would get both of them kicked out.

Maddie was paying no attention to where she was going as she burst out of the doors of the restaurant and pulled out her phone. She clumsily bumped into someone and looked up to apologize, only to see Ashton standing there with a surprised smile on his face. 

“Maddie?”

“Ashton, hey.” Maddie had cooled down a bit, the anger from her mother not radiating off of her like it was when she left the restaurant, but she still looked a bit flustered. She was still in her work outfit that consisted of a high wasted black skirt and a white button up tucked into it with a pair of black heels. 

“You look like you just got off of work.”

“I did, kinda. I met my mom for dinner right when I got off.”

“Where are you headed now? I’m meeting Cal and some friends at the bar down the street if you want to come?”

Maddie thought it over. If it were under different circumstances, and if she and Calum hadn’t slept together and hadn’t established an offical-un-offical relationship, she would have instantly declined the offer of just showing up at a bar that her boss was at, but now it didn’t seem like such a crazy, nerve wracking idea. And she could definitely use a drink or three.

“That sounds great.”

◈◈◈

The bar wasn’t too packed, just a few dozen groups of people, and Ashton and Maddie made their way through the small crowd to the end of the bar where Calum, Luke, Michael, and some of their other friends were. “I found a friend on the way here!” Ashton announced as he slung an arm over Maddie’s shoulder. Michael and Luke were thrilled to see her, but Calum? Not as much as Maddie would have liked him to be and she wasn’t sure why.

Until she saw it.

A gorgeous, model-like woman, all over Calum and watching him enjoy every minute of it as if she wasn’t even there. Sure, they hadn’t made things offical, they weren’t ‘going steady’, but it still hurt her to see him with another woman just days after they slept together, again, and he confessed his feelings to her.

Maybe her mother was right, after all.

◈◈◈

Taglist: @novacanecalum @roselukes @kinglyhood @cantbehandled-ever @hereforlukescruff @astroashtonio @monsteramongmikey @gosh-im-short @emma070900 @youmaycallmemrshemmings @cosmocalum @cakesunflower @asht0ns-world @singt0mecalum @lockthisheartinchains @cheyenne-in-wonderland @babyurart @blahehblah @inlovehoodx @softboycal @hopelessxcynic @ashtoniwir @calumsmermaid @lukewarmwoda @meganmisc @neonweeknds @kenopsia-falcon @blue-sunset-oreo-lover @foolishcal @ayee-style @itsmeempar @outofmylimitcal @mariellelovescupcakes-blog @post-traumatic-mess @damselindistressanu @tapolesarebabyturtles @noswagswag @scarapoison @sugarcoatedcalum @notsooperfect @trustmeimawhalebiologist @klb967 @littlebear1353 @cal-king @manicpanicbaby @colormekaykay @geeksareunique @nostalgia-luke @badguycal @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @cuddlemcalx @mpadge33 @bitchinbabylon @wilsondanvers @it-was-a-lie @panicforashton

[mxrvel-imxgines-blog]

Car Ride Conversations (smut)

Scott Lang x reader

warnings: SMUT (unprotected sex) [pls use some form of protection babies can be scary]

Request by Anon: #183: “car sex looks so much easier in the movies”, #186: “No strings attached, #190: “But we can’t do that here!”

As a secretary of X-Con’s, there was little you didn’t know about the personal life of your coworkers. After working extensively with the guys, you became like family to them, spending late evenings together at bars after a particularly tough assignment, talking about the latest superhero exploits, or picking up their kids from school when they were busy with a client.

However, there was one who you had begun to see in a different light lately.

There wasn’t ever a moment it seemed like where Scott Lang hadn’t been on your mind. Something about his goofy personality and optimistic demeanor had drawn you in like a moth to a flame - or rather - an ant to a sugar cube. His kind eyes and charming smile had only made you fallen harder in the past coming weeks, and it was getting rather difficult to hide your growing attraction and desire around the workplace.

You figured these feelings were only a mild infatuation and would pass with time; besides, you had seen Hope around a lot lately and figured that she had some type of relationship with Scott.

One late night after leaving the office, you and Scott decided to go and grab some drinks at a nearby bar to relax after a hectic day. Scott was looking into moving into a different building so you were busy looking into the financial aspects of things while Scott spoke to the landlord. All in all, both of you were exhausted.

After a few hours of chatting and a beer or two, you began to walk your separate ways, until Scott paused. You frowned, adjusting your purse, looking him up and down, “What’s up?”

“Can I give you a ride home? I can’t leave a pretty lady like yourself alone on the street.” Scott offered a teasing grin, thumbing towards the X-Con’s building down the road, where the “company van” sat in front. 

Heart thumping in your chest at the fact that he called you pretty, you managed to smile and nod nonchalantly instead. You walked towards the van side by side, and your stomach jolted when you felt your hand bump into his.

Scott’s heart fluttered as he caught your glance, purposefully swinging his hand into yours to see if maybe you’d catch his hint. 

You merely smiled bashfully at the ground. It was only an accident, he hadn’t meant to, did he?

Climbing into the front seat, you and Scott jumped as the radio began blaring on of Luis’s mix tapes, which were all terrible cover bands that played Spanish hit songs, laughing afterwards.

It was a refreshing ride home, just joking and laughing for once instead of having to worry about staying under the streetlights and away from wandering men. At one point you got onto the topic of movies and how they make everything look so easy.

“Sex is the biggest one - it’s so much more work in real life, especially when they do it in cars and in bathrooms and unorthodox places.” You rambled on carelessly, not noticing Scott’s grip tightening on the steering wheel, “It’s like propaganda for teenagers, like I don’t think many of them realize that car sex looks so much easier in the movies than it actually is in real life.”

Scott scoffed playfully, his cheeks burning as his thoughts ran wild, fantasizing, “I don’t think it could be that hard.”

“Have you ever had sex in a car?” You asked, eyeing his flustered state over. You had, once in high school with a previous boyfriend, however it hadn’t been so great.

“Well, no. But I’m sure if I were to, it’d be the best sex you’d ever have in a car.” Scott realized his mistake as soon as he said it. His dirty thoughts of you were still lingering in his mind and it just happened to slip out. He wasn't expecting your next words.

“Then prove it.” 

The temptation of your challenge swirled in Scott’s mind for only a lingering moment; the possibility of ruining whatever was going on between you two was nerve wracking, but the way you were leaning over towards him to where he could smell your perfume and the growing hard on in his jeans was unbearable.

Scott swerved onto a side road and into a nearby vacant lot behind an old rundown strip mall. “I could prove it to you right now.”

“b-but-,” You stuttered pathetically, a red flush crawling up your neck. When you said ‘prove it’, you only meant it jokingly, you hadn’t expected him to heed your words so quickly.

“No strings attached.” His hand found yours, just your fingertips, shyly interlacing them. He met your gaze, eyes wide with a sense of seriousness you hadn’t seen in a very long time, “This can be whatever you want, if you want anything at all.”

“Yes.” You tightened your grip on his hand, suddenly desperately aware of the heat between your thighs. “I do - I have wanted... this.” You murmured shyly. “But we can’t do that here!”

“You’re the one who wanted me to prove it.” Scott chuckled as his other hand moved up towards your face, caressing your neck. His fingers were warm and smooth against your skin and it sent a shudder through your system to imagine what they’d be doing. “Let me show you how easy it can be.”

Leaning forward, you pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek, slowly trailing down along his jaw. He let out an airy sigh of relief, his fingers twisting further up into your hair.

Your hand that wasn’t still intertwined with his grasped at bicep, nails pressing indents in when he gently tugged your head up to look up at him, lips nearly touching.

“I can kiss you right? This is okay?” He mumbled, his eyes nearly closed but full blown with lust and affection. 

“Yes.”

His lips met yours softly, almost hesitantly, until a rhythm was established. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you let out a soft whimper. 

Scott reached for the hem on your shirt, looping his fingers underneath when you paused. “Wait, lets go to the back.”

You crawled into the back of the van. Scott followed suit, quickly resuming where he had left off. 

He quickly tugged your shirt off and tossed it aside, hands roaming your body as his lips met yours again. You hummed into his mouth as he hands wrapped themselves around your ass, squeezing the excess flesh. Craving more contact, you pulled away, pealing the rest of your clothes away. Scott stripped his shirt and jeans, immediately pulling your naked figure back onto his lap. You could feel Scott’s erection twitching between your legs and you parted them further, craving even more friction. 

Scott thrusted up into your hips, his face buried into your neck nipping and sucking on your hot skin. Soft moans escaped your parted lips and you gripped his biceps tightly, relishing the sensation of his hands tracing down your back, along your sides, down your thighs.

Cupping your exposed breasts, Scott’s lips met yours once more, a low groan emitting from his throat as you rubbed against him, urging for him to continue. He pulled away from your mouth, moving to your chest, marking every inch of skin with his tongue and teeth. 

You ran your hands through his hair, whimpers leaving your mouth as he sucked hard on your nipple, leaving a dark hickey that would last for a few days. His eyes peered up at yours as he continued to run his tongue down your body, and you let out another whine, feeling warm slick accumulate between your thighs. You wanted him bad and he knew it.

Scott pulled away from your flushed skin with a smug grin, his hands gripping your legs apart to expose your soaking core to him. He let of a low hum of pleasure seeing how glistening your upper thighs were. “Wow, babe, you’re absolutely soaked.” Placing his thumb barely against your clit, he leaned closer to your ear, “Now tell me how you want it, and I’ll show you how good I can make you feel.”

Your breath was caught in your throat, Scott’s eyes peering right into your soul. Cheeks burning, you arched your back, lifting your hips to him. “I want you i-inside me.”

Scott let out a soft groan, and you could feel his erection twitch excitedly in his boxers. His thumb pressed firmly against your clit now, rubbing slow tantalizing circles, “Ugh, [Name], you don’t know how much I’ve wanted this.”

“Tell me...” You panted out, a heated knot slowly building in the pit of your stomach from the way he touched you.

“Oh you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?” Scott bit his bottom lip, slipping a finger into your wet folds, making you moan out in relief. “Does hearing about how I want to fuck you turn you on? How I want to make love to you and show you how beautiful you are?”

“Oh... Scott,” You paused, pushing yourself up. He halted his motions, brows furrowing in concern. “...You want to make love to me?”

“I- uh, yeah, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of-” Scott rambled, until you pushed him down, crawling on top of him. Yours hands flowing up and down his chiseled body, tugging at his boxers.

“Then do it.” 

Scott sat up, pulling your body close against his own, lining himself to your entrance. He pressed his forehead against yours, “Are you sure? This is okay?”

“Yes please,” You moaned out as you sunk onto him. He squeezed your waist tightly as you adjusted, his chest heaving as you throbbed around him.

Shifting his hips below you, you sighed out in pleasure, resting your hands on the back of his neck. A low growl emitted from Scott’s throat as he thrusted up into you, grasping at your skin like you were going to disappear from his arms.

The hot coil in your stomach grew as he continued to thrust upwards, and you made sure to match his pace evenly, slamming yourself down onto him. He then reached down between your bodies, rubbing your clit again teasingly. His deep thrusts and soft touches were enough to get you close to the edge, but not over. You whined, pressing your lips against his, desperate to be closer, wanting more. He hummed into the kiss, and when he pulled away, he grunted, “G-god, I love you so fucking much.”

And you came. You shuddered and cried out as your orgasm overtook you, Scott’s quiet groans and grunts of pleasure sending your head spinning. Scott continued to give everything he had to offer, soon spilling his seed into you, the milky liquid running out from between your legs.

He grinned at you, planting sloppy kisses against your neck and face, leaving you breathless and giggling. He pulled out of you, and suddenly you felt helplessly empty, and suddenly you longed for more. Leaning into the front, he clicked open the glove compartment and turned around, holding some napkins out to you, “Here’s a little something to clean up with. I know it’s not much.”

You put a finger up to your lips in playful thought, a devious plan forming in your mind. “Well, I’m sure if I get home you can make it up to me and clean me up proper.”

A dark look settled in Scott’s eyes once more. “I can prove how easy it is in the shower if you want.”

It didn’t take long for the both of you to throw on your clothes and get back to your house for another round or two.

[ghostyprince]

prompt thing: 7. routine kisses (bc cuTE af)

this definitely got a bit longer than i thought it would be, but yeah. i hope you’ll like it!! thanks for the prompt request 💖

(ao3 link)

Ryan thought it would be more difficult, getting used to the fact that he’s dating Shane now. Sure, everything felt new and even a bit weird at the beginning, but it was still Shane. The guy he could talk about popcorn for an hour straight, who gets fake-pissy at Ryan for stealing food off his plate and who wouldn’t recognize any real proof of ghosts if it’d hit him right in his big ol’ head.

From then on, it was easy to fell into a routine and treat their relationship as an extension of what they already had. Because it was simply that. They never stopped being best friends, or the ghoulboys. They just got a new neat little label like boyfriends or partners. But it all meant the same thing in the end. What they already had, with benefits like slumping against Shane whenever Ryan pleases, so Shane can wrap one of his unreasonably long arms around him and they fit perfectly together. Or Ryan grabbing onto Shane’s hand when he gets startled, even if he’s embarrassed about it later. What’s a little embarrassment for the comfort of Shane’s too big for their own good hand in his.

The movie nights they had become date nights, the previously established space disappeared between them as they ended up tangled together on Shane’s big, soft couch, or Ryan’s bed every single time. Kissing Shane whenever he damn wants to is just a big perk, not to mention the sex. Ryan honestly can’t decide which one is his favorite.

He never thought much about the other little pleasant things that made their relationship amazing until now, staring at the sea of unedited footage, unable to concentrate without Shane’s presence next to him. It’s becoming a problem, honestly. Well, maybe Ryan just misses him more than usual, barely being able to spend time outside of work with Shane lately, Unsolved completely taking over his days. He loves doing it more than anything, but man, he’s been stressed in the past week.

Ryan misses the sleepovers, curling up next to him after Shane fucks him into the mattress, or rides him, or just laying around arguing over a ghost hunting show, or watching some dumb reality TV together. And Ryan misses their trips to Disneyland, or anywhere they wound up sometimes, really. That’s what Ryan loved about them most, how well they work, it’s like they’re always on an adventure together. Even after several months of dating, they never fail to surprise the other.

Altogether, Ryan was just feeling way too sappy, wanting nothing more than to kiss his boyfriend’s stupid face but Shane was fucking late. He looked at his reflection in the darkened screen in front of him, chin propped up in his hand.

He’s having more and more bad hair days lately, schedule too cramped to go and get a haircut even. His hand twitches towards his hat, but then he lets it fall back on the table, remembering that Shane still hadn’t arrived yet and Ryan didn’t get his mandatory forehead kiss in the morning, which would be made difficult with the hat.

It sort of hits him like a ton of bricks, because it wasn’t a conscious thought, coming deep from his brain after getting used to the gentle press of Shane’s lips near his hairline almost every day for seven months now.

Ryan did gape at him like a fish the first time Shane did it, about a week and a half into their very much new but pretty fucking exciting relationship, right after they stopped hiding it so it was for everyone to see. They were never big on PDA, that was one of the many things they both agreed on when putting down the ground rules. Of course, there were some touches here and there, Ryan stroking a hand down Shane’s arm just because, or Shane putting a hand on Ryan’s thigh under the table in the Ghoul HQ, curious to see how much he can distract him while they’re recording.

There were quick kisses, only sometimes though, because in the first few weeks of their relationship most people in the office started cooing around them every single time, almost in perfect unison. Ryan thought it was at least a bit fucking creepy. They weren’t safe at locations either, TJ and Devon doing the same, mostly to drive them up the wall, Ryan saw right through them.

Before he could marvel more at the rest of their domestic little habits he sees Shane walking towards him. He has the softest little smile on his face, complete with the lovely crinkle of the corners of his eyes Ryan loves so much and wow, does he look at Ryan every time like this?

It’s a heady thought, not helped by the fact that his entire being fills with warmth as his boyfriend gets closer. He lights up like a fucking Christmas tree and he doesn’t even care that Shane knows, that everyone knows who takes one look at his big toothy smile. Let them know, Ryan thinks, it’s usually written all over his face anyway.

“What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Shane asks, smugly as he finally stops next to Ryan. He’s standing right next to his chair, so Ryan has to crane his neck more than usual if he wants to look at him properly.

Before Ryan could even think of an answer Shane is leaning in, planting a just as gentle kiss on his forehead as Ryan expected and he basks in the feeling of it against his skin, almost melts, as the weak weak man he is.

And then Shane is pulling away like that kiss did not just shut down Ryan’s entire operating system. He doesn’t get far though, hands cupping his cheeks to pull him back into a sweet kiss. Ryan feels the soft hum against his lips and relishes in Shane’s stubble brushing against his chin. He dares to drag his tongue along Shane’s, workplace rules be damned, feeling Shane lean more of his weight on the arms of his chair as he breathes a quiet moan into Ryan’s mouth.

“Wow, will I get such a greeting every day if I bring you coffee?” Shane says after they separated, both of them struggling a bit to catch their breaths. Ryan thinks he’s fucking beautiful like this, flushed, eyes shining, he even loves the stupid Cheshire grin on his kiss bitten lips.

“I didn’t even know you brought me coffee,” Ryan admits, mirroring Shane’s grin. “but don’t get used to it, this was a special occasion.”

“Too late, baby. Already got used to it.” Shane answers with a wink, moving away to sit in his chair and push a still steaming coffee cup in front of Ryan. Well, that explains why he was late.

Ryan thinks it’s pretty wild, how after even months and months of being basically attached by the hip (even more so now that they started dating) Ryan could still get excited over just spotting Shane’s stupidly tall form in a crowd. Or about him getting Ryan his favorite coffee, or lunch. Because it says ‘I know you’ve been stressed lately and I care about you’ and nothing warms Ryan’s stupid heart more, so soft for this idiot next to him.

Ryan doesn’t say anything besides a “thanks, big guy” however, as he puts his hat on.

He doesn’t need to, that kiss said a lot already. Besides, Shane knows how fucking gone Ryan is over him and he never fails to take advantage of that, the little shit he is.

Even now, it’s shown in the content happy expression he wears as he sips his coffee, or how he gives Shane’s arm an affectionate squeeze as he can finally focus on working properly and in comfortable silence, chairs pushed up close together, just how they like it.

Shane loves everything about their relationship, the Good Luck kiss they share (as Shane lovingly named it) before they enter any location for Unsolved has to be one of his favorites, however. As the name suggests, it’s to give them good luck. To catch something on camera (“all of the good luck kisses on the world wouldn’t be enough, Ryan”) to not die because Shane provoked some demon, or that the episode will do well, it’s a little bit of all of those, and most importantly, an excuse.

Just like how it started, when Shane couldn’t control himself on the porch of some allegedly haunted home. They were fairly newly dating, it’s been only a couple of weeks since they got their shit together and finally impulse made out in the library as soon as they were left alone after the shooting of a Post Mortem.

Later they made a deal that they’d keep things professional at work, especially because no one knew about them yet. And Shane agreed, but there was only one, tiny problem. Ryan looked gorgeous. Like all the damn time. Even in the shitty light of the porch, and with a BuzzFeed beanie stuck over his messy hair and eyes tired from all the traveling they did. He was fucking stunning and kissable and Shane couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that he’s allowed to kiss him, anytime.

No more pining, no more wondering what it’s like, how he tastes if Ryan would look at him with a soft, lovestruck expression afterward every time, because Ryan is his boyfriend, and Shane would never admit it to anyone how it made his heart flutter still.

He was allowed to, so he did. Brain turned off, cupping Ryan’s cheek in one hand to press a soft kiss to his lips, while Ryan was talking none the less. Right in front of the whole crew. When Ryan (and everyone else, honestly) stared at him bewildered, Shane just grinned and shrugged.

“It’s a good luck kiss,” He said, before casually stepping into the house, heart racing, most definitely not from the thought of what kind of ghosts and demons are waiting for them inside.

That’s how Shane single-handedly outed them. Ryan being pissy about it later was all for show though, it’s not like they were hiding their relationship too well anyway. They just didn’t exactly know how to go about it, and it made things a lot easier later in the end.

Shane did it again, next shoot, and on every single one ever since, until it became tradition. To the point that Ryan would just tilt his head up for a kiss, in a middle of a sentence even, if that’s when they arrived at whatever ghoul infested location they were visiting and Shane adored him for it, happy to comply and peck him on the lips every single time.

[whatwouldnarutodo]

Sentaku - Chapter Two

Pairing: Tobirama Senju x Sarutobi!OC

Rating: Mature (smut in later chapters, description of violence)

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.“ - Oscar Wilde

After you had hurried up to follow your new boss to his office, Tobirama suddenly turned around, making you almost run into him. You stood inappropriately close to each other, but neither of you had the intention to back away.

“Let‘s make one thing clear“, he said growling, his eyes narrowed. “You are neither wanted nor needed here. I don‘t care about who your father is or how qualified you think you are for this job. As long as you are here, I want you to be one thing: quiet. And whatever you do, do not interfere with my work, or else you will regret it.“

The air became heavier with every word he said, like a suspenseful calmness before a storm breaks loose. Staring up at him with clenched teeth and fists, you desperately tried to restrain yourself from doing something you would regret later.

It was bewildering. Sure, dealing with your family, male friends and clan members had made you used to some rough language, but this level of conceitedness was definitely something new. You quickly weighed the pros and cons of punching him in the face right then and there, but came to the conclusion that he wasn‘t worth the trouble.

Does he want to intimidate me? Or is he hoping for a fight so he can run to his big brother to get me fired?  Whatever it was, one thing was certain: He wanted some kind of reaction, one which you decided you wouldn‘t give him.

Trying to appear as indifferent as possible, you finally took a step back and just shrugged your shoulders.

“Sure.“

Tobirama furrowed his brow in surprise, irritated by your response, and took a step back himself. You had to suppress a smirk at his reaction. That‘s right, I won‘t let you get to me. Complacent about your recent level of self-control, you watched him how he quickly caught himself and entered his office with you right behind him.

The “office“ could barely be recognized as one. It had more resemblance to a neglected study room in the furthest corner of a library; only the opened scrolls next to the mountains of closed ones and the still steaming cup of coffee on his desk gave away that the room had been used of late.

I doubt he holds meetings in here. How can he work in this mess? And with closed curtains? I get why Hashirama is so concerned now.

He gestured to a smaller desk next to the door with only a pen on it, your new workplace for who knows how long.

Well this is going to be fun, you sighed internally.

And so it began.

Dealing with a grumpy Senju was one thing, but the indescribable boredom made your “work“ almost unbearable. You spent most of the day sitting on your desk and staring at the wall. Every time the tedium made you play with the pen, you were immediately rebuked.  

“Stop it, woman.“

Sometimes these three words were the only ones you heard all day. No greeting in the morning, no “thank you“ when you decided to be the better person and bring him something to drink or eat. Like that wasn‘t enough, he didn‘t even touch the meals you brought him, instead he walked to the trashcan to blatantly throw everything away. After a few days you stopped trying, it was just a waste of food anyways.

By this point it was more than clear that he didn‘t trust you in the slightest, and he made sure to let you know that every single day. You were right about the meetings, he would either hold them in the Hokage‘s office together with his brother or in one of the conference rooms in the building. In a normal situation the assistant would either stay in the office to work or attend the meeting to take notes or something.

Your situation however was everything but normal. Every time Tobirama had to go to a meeting, he would lock you out of the office, because again, he didn‘t trust you. You used those times to get out for a walk, which you felt was the only thing that kept you from going insane slowly but surely.

Finally some fresh air,  you thought as you stepped outside the Hokage Tower and looked up at the grey sky a week later. Tobirama had a meeting with his brother and Madara Uchiha, which meant that his mood would be especially good afterwards. Great. One of the worst things about this job was knowing that you could use your time so much better, either training or doing literally anything else.

Maybe I could go train right now, but I would lose track of time and get in trouble for sure. Okay, so what if I ask Hashirama if I could do some of his paperwork to feel at least a little more useful? But snitching on the douche bag would probably make our relationship even worse. But how much worse can it even get?

When you felt the first raindrops falling onto your skin, you turned around to make your way back to the big red building with a small sigh. If there was one thing you hated, it was feeling as helpless as you did now, without a real chance of escaping that situation. Who knows how long you‘d have to endure this? Weeks? Months? ….Years?

Your pace quickened after the light rain got heavier, soon turning into a heavy autumn storm.

The Senju already sat back at his desk when you entered the office completely drenched.

“How was the meeting, Tobirama-sama?“

“None of your concern“, he snapped back. So it went that well. huh?

~~~~~~~~~~

“I just don‘t know what his fucking problem is.“ You threw two kunais at once, both hitting the target. Sachiko shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I mean it was still nice of him to let you go home earlier today, wasn‘t it?“ You snorted and filled up two shots of sake and gave her both.

“Yeah right, maybe it _would _have been a nice gesture if he didn‘t convey it with ‘Go home, I don‘t want to hear your pesky sneezes, missy.‘“

Sachiko sighed and downed both of the shots.

“Remember me to never never ever agree to play a drinking game with you agian, nee-san.“ She said before she hiccuped, which made you chuckle. “Oh come on, don‘t be such a little crybaby. I think it‘s fun, isn‘t it?“

“Reeeeeally fun“, she said rolling her eyes playfully. “Kami, I‘m starting to see more than one target.“

“Well good for you Sachi, now you have more to choose from“, you replied laughing.

“Oh I see, someone swallowed a clown today.“ She took a stance and closed one eye, trying to focus.

“That‘s all the alcohol, baby.“

Sachiko threw her two kunai, of which one missed the target by a few inches.

After drinking one shot, you walked up to her and put an arm around her shoulder. “Hmm not bad, but maybe you lack the right motivation. Just imagine the target as a person you don‘t like. It does wonders, believe me.“

“I think I lack the right soberness“, she mumbled before turning her face towards you, smirking mischievously. “So who are you thinking of, father or Tobirama-sama?“ Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “At the moment it‘s the spiky douche bag, thanks for asking.“

“But now seriously, it has only been like a week since you started working for him, and from what you‘ve told me, I think maybe you‘re not that different from him. I mean you both have this love for improving your skills and developing new jutsus, right? And full offense nee-san, but you can be grumpy and a pain in the ass too.“

“Well okay then, full offense taken, I‘m absolutely nothing like that guy. But funny that you mention it, I was just thinking about how you are like Hashirama in a way. At least when you‘re your sober polite self instead of the sarcastic little shit I‘m talking to right now.“ Sachiko‘s eyes widened and she started to smile from ear to ear, completely ignoring your last sentence. “You think that I‘m like the Hokage? Really?“

“Absolutely. Oh and now that I think of it, he‘s single too. Maybe I should tell him to ask you out or something.“ You teased her with an evil grin, well knowing how much she hated that. Her cheeks turned into a deep shade of crimson as she looked down.

“I don‘t think that will be necessary“, she mumbled, trying to avoid your gaze.

“Hmm interesting, and why is that? Don‘t tell me you already have a boyfriend, Sachi!“ Normally she would just deny it or immediately tell you to shut up, but instead her face took on a new, even darker shade of red.

“Wait wait wait, do you actually?“ She started to play with a strand of her long brown hair nervously, still looking down.

“Well...I...y-yes, but it‘s still really fresh. I‘m sorry I didn‘t tell you immediately, but you were so busy...also nobody knows yet, so please don‘t tell father, okay? I want to do it myself when I‘m ready to talk about it.“ She said quietly, indicating that she wouldn‘t answer any questions now.

You just smiled and pulled her into a bone crushing hug. “I‘m so happy for you, you know? And I‘m sure the old man will be too, even if it takes some convincing, but that‘s what I‘m here for.“ She pulled away with a big smile on her face. “Thanks.“ Then her smile suddenly faded.

“Oh by the way, does father know that you actually work for Tobirama-sama, or does he still think you work for the Hokage?“ You frowned, thinking about how he will react to your position.

“Hmm, good question. I would have definitely heard something from him if he knew, so I guess he doesn‘t know yet. Can‘t wait to tell him though.“

~~~~~~~~~

After you somehow made it to bed in your tipsy state, you stared up at the ceiling, waiting that the room stopped spinning.

“Maybe you‘re not that different from him“

Your little sister‘s words reverberated in your head.

Okay maybe I am grumpy and a pain in the ass sometimes, so what? I‘m never arrogant or pretentious and I would never try to provoke somebody who I know is helpless. No, I‘m better than that, and that‘s why I won‘t let his teasing get to me.

I won‘t let you get to me.

I won‘t let you get to me.

I won‘t let you get to me, you bumptious asshole.

Oh look at me, I paint red stripes on my face to look sooo dangerous. But the only ones I‘m scaring are the family members of the ferret I killed for my fierce neck fur. My brother is the all-mighty Hokage, so I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. I‘m so important, and if something doesn‘t go my way I have to sit at my desk and pout all day, because I‘m oh so mature. Everybody bow down to me, because I invented a few jutsus, which obviously makes me a genius and therefore better than everybody else, especially Uchihas and -kami forbid!- female specimen. That‘s why I‘ll probably die as a lonely virgin.

You turned to the side with a smug grin. It felt good to get this off your chest, even if it was just a silly monologue.

Yeah that‘s right, he doesn‘t get to me at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You are late, Sarutobi.“ Another week later, the situation still hadn‘t improved. Quite the contrary, actually.

Civilized people would say good morning, but guess he‘s hopeless. You hung your coat over your chair and took a seat at your desk.

“What do you mean, Tobirama-sama? It‘s 5:25. The time you told me to arrive at.“ You tried to sound as little irritated as possible, but you weren‘t fooling anyone. It was early, it was cold, and you really weren‘t in the mood for this right now.  

He crossed his arms and snorted, knowing that he was slowly winding you up with his behavior more and more.

“No. I told you to be here at least five minutes prior to me, so that you wouldn‘t interrupt my work with your noisy arrival. Was that too difficult for you to understand, woman?“

By now, you knew this procedure all too well. For your clan‘s and your own reputation‘s sake, you swore to yourself that you wouldn‘t give in to his teasing, but right now you weren‘t so sure of how long you could bear this anymore. As much as you wanted to be unaffected by his words, he always got to you, but why? Was it the blatant sexism and depreciation that made you affronted? No not just that; it was the fact that he underestimated you and your abilities so greatly, and you didn‘t even get one chance to prove him wrong. It was the fact that you were so naive to believe you‘d be finally freed from the cage that was the Sarutobi compound, only to find yourself trapped in another.

You considered yourself as a person with a lot of patience, but even the most patient person has its limits.

And yours was almost reached.

[jaggedheartstrings]

Spread Your Wings (and leave me behind) || Chapter 8

Read On AO3: HERE (chapter 1)

Word count: 2k

Summary:

Natasha Antonia Stark was a thriving scientist in the 1940's. Alongside her brother, Howard, they build a whole world of technology and science for themselves.

Up until a fatal night in 1947.

She was announced dead in 1949.

* * *

Toni wasn’t going anywhere with him as long as she had anything to do about it.

“I was hoping to do this the easier way, but the best ones do put up the best fight at first, don’t they?”

It was the last thing she remembered before darkness overtook her.

-

Chapter 8: Part 1.5 - Reprogram My Will

June 18th, 2003, Formosa, Argentina

The therapist at the local trauma center had told it was good to write down stuff. For coping with everything or to help remember. The center was kind of a homeless shelter too. She wasn’t exactly homeless, but she wouldn’t have been able to afford a therapist. The trauma center therapist was a lovely Japanese lady. Her dark hair was always pinned up in extravagant styles, not one the same as the last one. She always had her square glasses on and ready to go.

While she was a therapist who never got payed, her attitude was never indifferent or mean. Ms. Saito was always warm, inviting and that played a huge part in why she visited her over and over again. One of the few friends she had made had suggested to visit the center, once they noticed how difficult it was for her to interact with people or remember anything about herself.

Antonia sold little inventions and fixed people’s electronics. What she asked barely allowed her to survive, let alone build more. But the people on the outskirts of Formosa weren’t that wealthy. She didn’t need extra money. If she couldn’t pay rent or her next meal, the people always graciously offered to help her. It was a close-knit community that helped everyone.

“An!” Turning at the voice of her friend, Alicia, Antonia gave her a big and real smile. She’d learned that smiling at people when you were in a good mood, would put them in a good mood and they might like you more if you don’t glare them to their early grave. Or so Alicia had said.

“Hey,” she greeted the panting blue haired woman. The pastel blue color of Alicia’s hair complimented her darkened skin much better than it should’ve. “How are you?”

“How am I? I am fucking wonderful, thanks for asking. You will not believe what I just saw.” Antoine’s smile was much more real at her friend’s enthusiastic voice.

“Yeah?” she hummed as she returned to the journal she kept close by, in case she’d need to write stuff down. The page was filled with things under her own name, and a few other names on the page next to it.

“Okay, so. The guy at the hot dog stand, remember him?” Antonia glanced up from the page toward her awaiting friend. The girl was literally vibrating with excitement. The headache building in her head was enough to make her irritated by Alicia’s antics. She loved the woman to death, but sometimes she drove her up five stories.

“Yeah, the red head, right? The one you’ve been crushing on for, oh I don’t know, six months, but have never actually talked to?” Antonia snickered when the blue haired girl whacked her on the shoulder. “Oh, come on, Ms. I-pine-on-people-I-don’t-dare-to-talk-to.”

“I will shove you out of the window, don’t test me,” Antonia couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable threat. She was like a kitten trying to fight a lion. They both knew that the brunette would have the shorter girl on her face in seconds. “Anyway! He saw me stalking him and naturally I knew this was my moment. SOOO, I went up to him and was like, ‘hey man, wanna catch a cup of coffee sometimes’. I heard that’s an adult thing to do, so I was like okay let’s try it.”

“You’ve never even drank coffee, you heathen.” Antonia shoved Alicia away as she tried to catch a look of her notebook. The brunette slammed the notebook closed, storing it in her locked cabinet.

“C’mon, you never let me see what you write!” Alicia whined and she threw a look towards the woman who was acting like a three-year-old despite her 28 years of age. It wasn’t new.

“There’s a reason for that. If I told you what was in there, you wouldn’t know what to do with the information. My past is not all rainbows and sunshine.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me like nine million times already.” Alicia scratched behind her ear, “I know you don’t remember anything ‘cuz you had something horrible happen to you- this is why I need you to tell me, so you don’t make that pissed off face when I talk about it insensitively!” She waved at Antonia’s face with her hand. Sure enough, the brunette was scowling at her friend.

“I don’t tell you, because I don’t want to lose you,” she pointed out.

“But some horrid tale of your past won’t make me run away,” Alicia argued against her.

With a deep sigh the brunette informed her, “I’m not worried you’ll run away.” That made the blue haired girl snap her mouth shut and get an understanding look in her eyes. Her father had worked for the CIA and it’d costed her mother’s life. He did get out of the business after that, but it was a bit late to fix anything. “So, what did the cute hot dog guy say?”

Alicia’s eyes brightened as she explained the rest of the first encounter they had had.

Later that evening Antonia returned to her apartment. The whole building was falling apart, and she was quite sure they’d be tearing it apart soon. Which would leave her homeless. Maybe she could room with Alicia. She wouldn’t mind the company and rent would be easier for the both of them.

She stepped inside the lobby and greeted Harold. He was a cleaner/host who held the place up. A long time ago the man had invested money into this building and pursued his dream. But then the people had basically abandoned this part of the town and he was left to the bares. The apartment complex had 16 apartments, but only nine were occupied- Harold included. Antonia was quite sure half of them were druggies. Wouldn’t have been surprising around these corners.

Harold’s frail and weak smile almost broke her heart. He was already in his late sixties, he shouldn’t have been doing so much around the complex. His hands were shaking, mostly due to his never treated addictions. Now he had thankfully enough smarts in his head to not go inject himself. Plus, his grandchildren were quite often around the complex helping their grandfather. Harold’s wife had died a long time ago due to cancer.

Antonia’s apartment was onto second floor, right above the lobby. It was quiet, well until the druggies would start a party. Her keychain held three keys, the keys to her apartment, her workplace and her bike’s lock. Not that a lock would do much around here. A single fluffy ball was hanging from the keys. She’d taken a liking to soft and fluffy things, which was no surprise considering what she had gone through.

The apartment was a lost cause on pretty much everything, though she had tried her best in patching it up. The hallway that opened up right after the door was quite empty, if you excluded the small rug and shoe holder. She couldn’t afford much, most of the stuff in her apartment was used or passed down from friends. She didn’t mind it at all. She enjoyed fixing things and finding out how they worked.

The light that flooded the entry way was dimmed and yellowish. She’d have to fix the circuits again. It was the third time this month alone. The frustrated sigh she let out made her rip her shoes off and hang her purse quite aggressively. As she was about to step into the kitchen, the light almost unnoticeable breathing caused her to halt. Someone was here.

She immediately reached in her pocket for the knife she always had on standby. Her left hand reached for the light switch and as soon as she made out a form, the knife was flying through the air. The figure- a man most likely- leaned out of the way at the very last second. The knife attached itself to the wooden wall behind him.

The man lifted his head at her, eyes glinting curiously. “Hello child,” The Russian accent made her skin crawl and the snarl that left her mouth was downright menacing.

“Who the fuck are you?” She spat out, her hands clenching and unclenching in fists. The man smirked, his expressionless and cold grey eyes watching her every move. “Who are you?” she demanded even louder this time.

“I guess you could call me an old friend,” the words sending a shiver down her spine. “But you’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you? Making decisions and relationships all on your own accord.” He moved and she moved towards the kitchen isle where a block of knives was situated at. The tsk noise made her flinch. “I wouldn’t do that. I’d hate to use more painful methods, wouldn’t you?”

The questioning tone was enough to send her through a loop. “I ain’t coming with you anywhere. You might’ve missed it, but I’m done.”

“It’s like you truly believe you have a choice.” At the widened eyes and menacing tone, she was sent back to a time where everything was much worse. To the first time this happened. When the first word hit her, she gasped at the pain, “предложение.” (tender)

“Ah, stop.” She rasped out.

“журнал.” (journal) An image of steel blue eyes flashed, and she fell to her knees.

“шесть.” (six)

Everything left like it was slipping away. Like someone else was taking control and pushing her to the back of her head, unable to affect anything.

Ash. Evening. Nineteen. Reign. Order. Fire.

He continued until only one word was left. After a second of silence he whispered the last breaking word, “криво.” (awry)

The breathing of the figure on its knees evened slowly out, and it lifted its head eyes emotionless and focused on the wall. “Товарищ?” The question solidifying its presence.

“я готов ответить.” (Ready to comply/I am ready to answer.)

 * * *

 The Winter Flower sat at the Chair. Held together by the straps, the scientists and doctors around it were preparing to do something. It didn’t know, it wouldn’t ask. Weapons didn’t have questions.

Its new handler was rubbing his chin while watching it. He was contemplating on something. His empty eyes were almost unfocused due to the intensity of his stare. He wasn’t actually looking at her, but instead was lost inside his head.

“We are ready,” one of the scientists announced and just like that his attention was back in the present. He walked down from the raised platform towards it. Stopping in front of it, he ran his fingers across its jaw.

“God, after this you’ll be perfect. Absolutely and utterly perfect.” His eyes flashed and the grin he gave it was filled with sharp teeth, “I’m sure you’ll remember that little thing you were working on back in 1995. It’s finally completely finished. That Hansen chick got it finally to stabilize after fifteen tries. You were great help, my dear.” His tone would’ve almost been loving, if it wasn’t filled with disgust.

He walked back up, turning towards the doctor. He’d watched the interaction curiously. “Inject her. Three days is far too long, we need her to be ready and we needed it yesterday,” the man hissed at him. He scrambled away, barking orders in Russian. The Winter Flower wasn’t listening. The hazed daze it was in was going to cause problems if its handler would find out. He’d already made it shoot itself in the leg twice. If it weren’t bandaged soon, it’d bleed out. It wouldn’t dare to inform this to the handler. He knew what’d happen upon shooting yourself in the leg, but he didn’t seem to care.

The sudden burning pain that entered its body caused it to scream out in agony. It felt like it was burned alive. The tears that slipped from its eyes despite its best efforts seemed to please the handler.

Its body was rebuilding itself.

Burning a deep fire through all her limbs, focusing on the bullet wounds as they closed after liquid metal flowed out. “Incredible,” the man whispered out. “Truly remarkable.”

The doctors and scientists seemed to abscond from the room, until only one doctor and the man remained.

And it burned for what seemed like years.

[botanistlester]

Sweet Pea (32/34)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath. Warnings: Abusive relationship, violence A/N: Hey guys! Back at it again with another edition to SP 8) I've thankfully finished my midterms without dying, which is great news! Now I'm going to my parents' house, which is ironic considering the theme of today's chapter! Thank you for reading this fic and leaving such amazing comments. I love you all so much! The lyrics at the beginning are from the song I Found by Amber Run!

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST

READ IT ON AO3 READ IT ON WATTPAD

-

Chapter Thirty-Two

I found love where it wasn't supposed to be: right in front of me.

-

When Phil thought about meeting Dan’s parents, this hadn’t exactly been what he had in mind. He’d assumed that maybe they would have prior arrangements where Dan would lead Phil into a restaurant or something and introduce Phil as his parents sat smiling at the table. Maybe Dan’s parents would have to stand up to shake Phil’s hand and Phil would smile gleefully at them as he introduced himself. After that, they would have a nice dinner and Dan would cast little proud glances over at Phil as Phil chatted up Dan’s parents, effectively wooing them.

It did not go like that. Not at all.

No, instead, Phil had been in the shower when Dan’s parents randomly showed up at their flat. When Dan had knocked on the bathroom door before slowly cracking it open. The steam from the shower immediately began to leak out from the opening and Phil shivered as a breeze of cool air hit his skin.

“Close the door and join me!” Phil whined, poking his head out from the shower curtain. He pouted at Dan, his hair dripping into his eyes, and the sight made Dan laugh. He watched with bright eyes as Dan quietly shut the door behind him, which was strange because normally he would have just left it open or allowed it to slam shut. But he did neither, seeming to brace the door shutting with his fingertips.

With a small smile, Dan reached out and brushed his fingers through Phil’s wet hair, pushing it back. He gazed at Phil with such a tender look that it made Phil’s chest constrict, and then he was leaning forward and pressing a light kiss to Phil’s lips. “As much as I would love to join,” Dan murmured against his wet lips, “I don’t think that’s really possible right now.”

Phil hummed and frowned a little, peppering light kisses to Dan’s cheeks and making grabby hands at him, attempting to drag him into the shower fully clothed. Sadly, it didn’t work as Dan caught himself on the towel rack and swatted Phil away playfully. “Well why the heck are you in here then, if not to join your amazing boyfriend in a steamy shower?”

“Well you see,” Dan started, poking Phil’s cheek. His expression turned serious and he let out an awkward laugh. Phil immediately sobered up, cocking his eyebrow.

“Oh god, what did you do?” Phil asked in horror.

Dan glared at him, but there was no heat behind his look. He couldn’t look intimidating if he tried. “If you would just let me finish, then you would know that I didn’t do anything!” Dan exclaimed dramatically. He paused then, and Phil just gave him a long, hard look, which made Dan sigh in relief, throwing up his hands in defeat. “My parents showed up out of nowhere and they’re chilling in the lounge waiting for you to get out of the shower.”

All at once, Phil’s heart seemed to stop and speed up at the exact same time. The water, which was so hot that it was turning his skin red, was suddenly cold against his back, and he could feel his eyes glaze over with panic. “Your parents!” Phil hissed, submerging his head under the shower head to scrub away the conditioner from his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier!”

He couldn’t see Dan now, but he could imagine his pout as he said, “you were so cute, I couldn’t just leave you hanging.”

“Oh God, your parents are going to think we’re having a quickie!”

“No they won’t! They know you’re in the shower and have to get presentable.”

“So what? Your shirt is all wet from where I grabbed it. We totally could have had a quickie by now.” Phil shut the water off and wrung his hair out, grabbing the towel from the rack and stepping out of the shower and onto the plush rug. He nearly bumped into Dan, who gingerly placed his hands on Phil’s bare hips and held him in place.

Phil paused as Dan tilted his head and looked him in the eyes, gaze intense but filled with fondness. The look froze Phil in place and made him feel warm all the way down to his toes. It didn’t matter that Dan was fully clothed and Phil was completely naked. Dan was simply looking at him, not judging him for his lack of dress. “Phil,” Dan murmured softly, nuzzling his nose against Phil’s in the way that he liked. Phil hummed and pursed his lips, waiting for Dan to kiss him. “I’m offended at the insinuation that I only last two minutes in bed.”

Laughing, Phil shoved Dan away, feeling some of the tension in his chest diminish. If Dan was so carefree and joking around with him despite Phil’s state of undress, then maybe his parents weren’t too terribly scary. “You realise that five minutes isn’t that much of a difference from two, right?”

“Hey, at least it’s something!”

Raising his eyebrows, Phil finished drying himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist. “Not enough to satisfy somebody,” Phil teased, pecking Dan on the cheek as he brushed past him and swung open the door. He trudged to his room, hearing Dan muttering under his breath, albeit with no toxicity at all.

He honestly loved all of the teasing between he and Dan. It was just so relaxed, so familiar. He loved how he could just be completely naked and still feel confident in front of a fully dressed Dan. It hadn’t been like that at first, that’s for sure. When Dan had first seen Phil naked, Phil hid his face behind his hands, in the sheets, in every possible shield that he could. It had made him so self conscious, like Dan was judging him even despite their similar stages of undress.

The embarrassment of being naked in front of someone was definitely new for Phil. He had never had an issue with getting nude in front of strangers. But maybe it was just different because this was Dan, and Phil wanted him to like what he saw. Dan’s opinion mattered because Phil cared about him so fucking much that he didn’t know what to do with himself half of the time.

The first time they were naked together, Phil hid his face and peaked between his fingers at Dan’s own nakedness. They stared at each other, not moving, until Dan’s lips turned up in a soothing smile and he whispered a tiny, “can I please kiss you?”

Phil’s answering nod was all that Dan had needed before he breached the space between them and lightly took Phil’s cheeks in his hands, kissing him so softly, almost as though Phil would break.

While the memory of it was a bit mortifying, just because Phil had felt like he was in high school again, he also wouldn’t change it for the world. That experience was undoubtedly one of the most tender moments he’d ever experienced. They were just two giant, nervous nerds that wanted so badly to share their bodies with each other without really knowing how. Dan had been so gentle and understanding, pressing soft kisses to Phil’s stomach, and Phil kissed Dan’s eyelashes and thighs in return. He had practically worshipped Dan’s body, had run his hands over Dan’s curves and the smooth skin of his waist. He especially liked Dan’s hip bones, liked how they jutted out when he laid on his back. He liked to grab them and pull Dan closer, until they were pressed together so tightly that Phil could hardly breathe.

Phil had been uncertain in his movements, mainly because he wasn’t used to not being submissive, hadn’t been an equal in bed in over a year, so he was freaking out half of the time. Dan didn’t care. He let Phil do the leading, let him choose the pace. When Dan had grabbed Phil’s wrist to hold him in place and Phil had started panicking, going back to a much darker time, Dan calmly suggested that they either stop or swap positions.

It was different, it was embarrassing, it was vulnerable. But it was real, and it made him feel so many things at once that he could hardly grasp for enough air. In a good way, though, like he was inhaling Dan, breathing him in until he was suffocating, surrounded by him and his love.

God, Phil was cheesy as hell.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and focused at the task on hand. Now was not the time to be thinking about his sex life with Dan while Dan’s parents were in the same building. Instead, he distracted himself by throwing on his best looking clothes and placing his glasses on his face. He didn’t have enough time to dry his hair and make himself look amazing, so he ended up angrily towel-drying his hair as best as he could and then touseling it so it wasn’t plastered to his head.

Once he deemed himself presentable, he took a couple of gulping breaths, trying to steel himself and mentally prepare himself to finally meet the Howells. When his meditation was finished, he finally swung open his door and headed to the lounge.

He could hear light chatter coming from the room, and he stopped right before entering, hearing Dan explaining to his parents about how Phil was studying English Literature and how he’d taken some time off of school for personal reasons. Phil cringed when he heard who he assumed was Dan’s mum asking if Phil treated him okay, and he listened intently as Dan let out a light chuckle. He was probably nodding profusely as he said, “treats me better than all of my partners combined in the past.”

“But doesn’t he have some… you know, mental issues after everything that happened?” Dan’s father asked in a hushed tone. Phil grimaced, but he couldn’t be mad because he understood their worry for their son. Hell, he was worried too. “Surely that’s not healthy for you to surround yourself with? Especially considering your own depression.”

“His past doesn’t define the type of person he is,” Dan replied confidently, and Phil fucking loved him. “Like, we have our issues just as any other couple does, but he doesn’t bring me down. We communicate with each other, and we’re both seeing separate therapists, so we have a really strong relationship.” Dan laughed awkwardly and Phil almost felt bad for leaving him to deal with his parents alone. Almost, except Phil was kind of having fun eavesdropping. “Sometimes I can’t believe he even likes me, you know? It’s like he’s a mystical gay Earth faerie and I’m just a boring human who’s cast under his spell.”

The serious tone to Dan’s voice made Phil laugh and shake his head, finally deciding to step out from his hiding spot from behind the wall. He cocked his eyebrow, putting a hand on his waist, giving Dan an amused look. “A mystical gay Earth faerie? Seriously?” The answering grin on Dan’s face made Phil shake his head in disbelief. “How long have you known I was eavesdropping?”

Dan stood and made his way over to Phil, putting his arm around his waist and squeezing him to his side. “Your footsteps aren’t exactly quiet, you clumsy oaf,” Dan teased. He kissed Phil on the cheek, and it was then that they both sobered up a bit, finally realising the situation and how Phil needed to meet Dan’s parents.

All of a sudden, the reality of what was happening was hitting Phil, and he was panicking again. He tried to steel himself, tell himself that it was just Dan’s parents, that it didn’t matter if they didn’t like him because the only thing that mattered was that Dan liked him and Dan was happy with him. But on the other hand, these were Dan’s parents, who made Dan. Dan literally came out of his mum’s vagina. Shouldn’t Phil try to impress them in that case?

Dan’s mum was a lady with a warm face. She somewhat reminded Phil of his own mum, with laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. Her eyes were the same colour as Dan’s, a warm chocolate, and even her hair was similar to her son’s with beautiful brown ringlets. There was a smatter of red lipstick on her lips, and a dusting of blush on her cheeks. Dan’s father was also a kind looking man, with salt and pepper hair and blue eyes and a long nose.

They both stood as Dan gestured to Phil, bowing and presenting him as though he were royalty. “At long last, meet Philip Lester,” Dan said in a voice much deeper than usual. “My astounding best friend and wonderful boyfriend.”

Phil snorted and lightly kicked him, forcing Dan to stand up with a grin. “Enough of that,” Phil muttered, and then crossed the lounge to shake both of Dan’s parents hands. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dan’s father laughed, his eyes sparkling, and Phil knew that they would get along just fine. “Trust me, I think we’re the ones who have heard the most about you.” The comment made Phil duck his head and blush, but only because he knew that Dan talked about him a lot. After all, he constantly heard him talking on the phone with his mum about Phil and his whereabouts. Dan was slightly obsessed, and Phil didn’t mind in the least bit.

Dan and Phil took a seat across from his parents. They weren’t in each other’s laps, having respect for Dan’s family, but they were definitely sitting close enough that their thighs were touching. Dan put his hand on Phil’s knee, grounding Phil, showing him that he was here and that everything was okay.

Phil leaned into him a little bit more.

They made small conversation, Dan’s parents asking Phil questions that he knew that they already knew the answers to. They asked him what he was studying, how old he was, what he wanted to do with his degree. Why he was taking a year off of school. Basically everything that Dan had already told them. And when Dan’s father asked Phil why he wanted to date Dan, Phil didn’t even blink.

What a dad thing to ask.

Instead, he went on a long tangent, talking about how Phil had first met Dan at his work and how he had always made Phil enjoy his time as a server. He mentioned how he had gone through a rough time and Dan had been by his side through it all, even in his darkest moments. He talked about how Dan loved him when he didn’t love himself, and how he’d always urge Phil to be the best person that he could possibly be. Finally, he talked about their trust in each other, and how they communicated when something was wrong, and how Phil had never really had someone respect him like that before.

When he was finished, he could tell that Dan’s father and mother were pleased. Dan patted Phil on the knee, nosing his shoulder and pressing a kiss there, and Phil saw the blush on his face when he turned to smile at his boyfriend.

“Well, it certainly seems like you two love each other,” Dan’s mum, Karen, murmured, and if Phil were anyone else, he would have cringed. But instead, he made the most disgusting sappy face and gave Dan a fond smile.

“We do,” Dan and Phil replied at the same time, like those creepy couples who finished each others sentences. Honestly, they were definitely still in their honeymoon phase, still excited about the aspect of a relationship with each other and wanting to get in all of the affection that they could after not being able to do so for over a year. Phil didn’t think there was any shame in that, even if he did find the entire thing a tad cringey.

They decided to show Karen and Dean around their place, taking them into each room and pointing out the things that they were passionate about. Dan had gone on a long tangent about the painting hung on their wall above the television of some dogs playing poker, and why he liked it so much, and Phil talked about just why he had so many stuffed animals sitting on the window sill.

By then, Phil had relaxed enough that he had gotten over the initial shock of Dan’s parents showing up, and he was starting to just have fun with them. He liked it when he teased Dan by gloating about him in front of his parents, liked how Dan’s face turned red and how he swatted at Phil to shut up. He liked how Karen and Dean just smiled and urged on his teasing, telling him all about how Dan had been terribly afraid of dark windows as a child, and sometimes they still caught him running past the windows in the house at night because he apparently felt like he was being watched.

It was endearing, and it was fun, and Phil didn’t know why he had been so worried in the first place.

They didn’t stay too terribly long, saying that they had just stopped by while they were on their way to Dan’s aunt’s house. Before they left, Karen pulled Phil into the kitchen, and it took all of Phil’s willpower not to freak out, memories flooding him of another mother telling him to be careful of his own boyfriend.

But Karen didn’t say anything of the sort.

Instead, she pulled Phil into a tight hug, which was a bit awkward because he was so tall. But Karen was definitely used to it, if Dan’s height was anything to go by. “Don’t hurt my son, you hear?” Karen said in a warning, yet light tone of voice.

Phil chuckled and hugged her back, resting his chin on her head. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied sincerely.

He must have sounded truthful enough because Karen nodded and pulled away, giving him a soft smile. “Dan’s lucky to have you,” she said. “Especially after he wouldn’t shut up about you for years. It’s about time you got your head out of your ass and reciprocated his feelings!”

Laughing, Phil shook his head and agreed. “I know. I was pretty stupid back then, wasn’t I?”

“Unbelievably so.”

When they made their way back to the lounge, they caught Dan hugging his dad, face slightly flushed and his eyes a bit wet. Phil kept that in mind for when his parents left, but otherwise let Dan say goodbye to his parents. Phil shook Dean’s hand and hugged Karen once more, telling them that they could come over whenever they wanted, and then they were gone, leaving Phil with a slightly sniffly Dan.

He turned to Dan and nudged his shoulder, giving him a supportive smile. “What’s wrong, you?”

Dan shook his head and groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. When he was finished whining and groaning, he opened his arms, pouting at Phil, and Phil took him into his arms, hugging him tightly. He kissed Dan’s collarbone and waited for Dan to speak. It took him a moment, but eventually he got the words out. “My dad told me he was proud of me. Said that you seemed like a nice lad and he’s not seen me so happy in a long time.” Phil tightened his arms around Dan’s waist, not really knowing what to say, but showing that Dan could continue to talk if he needed to. “For a while they were upset with my decision to come to uni for a degree in directing, you know? Said that I wouldn’t be able to do anything with it. I was also pretty depressed for a while and I don’t think my parents really understood why. I think they’re trying to be supportive of me though, and it just… it feels really good, you know?”

Phil nodded and smiled into Dan’s shoulder, inhaling deeply. “I know exactly what that’s like. I’m really glad your parents are being more understanding of your life now. Life definitely isn’t easy, but you’ve accomplished so much, and that’s something to be proud of. Especially when your parents didn’t understand why you were doing what you wanted to do.”

Dan sniffled and nodded his head, murmuring a small, “yeah.”

It was clear to Phil that Dan didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so Phil took it upon himself to change the subject, squeezing Dan’s sides. “Plus, why wouldn’t they be proud when you snagged a hunk like me?”

Pulling away, Dan smacked Phil’s chest and laughed loudly. Phil tried to kiss the smile from his face, but it just ended up with him kissing Dan’s teeth, which made him cringe at the feeling. He didn’t really like that, apparently.

“Hey,” Dan started suddenly, looking at Phil with a small smile on his face.

“Mhm?”

“You wanna go take a nap?”

Phil chuckled and pecked Dan on the lips. “Man after my own heart. Is that even a question?”

Chapter Thirty-Three

[nottswitch]

Shattered

Part 2: Wild Ride

The second part of this series is here! I'm very excited about it and you guys seem to like it as well, which makes me more than willing to share more. For some reason, I'm having great pleasure writing this Billy, hope you're enjoying it as well!

Word count: 2,688

Series masterlist

Three times with an interval of an hour you woke up, screaming from the same nightmare, crawling into your dreams over and over again. The scene from that evening kept on repeating and after every yell of horror that sounded through the thin walls of the apartment, you thanked heavens you didn’t have a weapon next to you, or there was a high possibility that you would either stab or shoot yourself in sleepy delirium.

After the third time you were almost killed by a zombie again, you weren’t able to lie on that bed anymore. Trying not to make the mattress under you creak, you put your bare feet on a rough surface of the carpet and stood up, wincing at the unpleasant sound the rotten boards made. You cautiously looked at Billy, who fell asleep in a chair at the table, wondering if he wasn’t woken up. But despite his head lying dangerously close to freshly sharpened knives, he seemed rather peaceful, and if it wasn’t for the circumstances, you would have smiled, perhaps.

You were still relieved that Billy had finally got some rest. Considering the amount of efforts he had to make on daily basis to keep both of you alive, he must have been deadly tired, you thought, carefully getting round the table and heading to what you assumed was the kitchen. You were right — there were preserves laid out on the table, along with some fresh vegetables Billy happened to get somewhere. As you happily noticed, there were signs of a gas stove as well, but all your sudden joy faded away as soon as you tried to turn it on, which wasn’t a smart move in the first place. It didn’t work and your immediate thought was that in the morning you would have to fuss around that half-broken portable cooker you were carrying with you.

Examining things on the table, you came to a conclusion that there was nothing for you to do here, you had no desire to eat, but neither you wanted to go back to the room and suffer from nightmare after nightmare. You grabbed a wrinkled apple to keep your hands occupied and sat down on a chair, aimlessly rolling the fruit from palm to palm.

Now that your head was somewhat clear from the recent events, resulting in terrible dreams of yours, you couldn’t help but get to the thoughts about your future in that messed up world you were doomed to live in from now on. You had no idea, how much time you would be able to hold on until you would be eaten alive, or die from famine — because you had no doubts that eventually there would be no food and water left. You didn’t know about the situation in the outside world as well, as there was no electricity left, and barely any TV channel was still airing, to begin with. You remained oblivious to such things as potential evacuation program, camps or simply safe spaces for survivors, existence of people like you in general. From the very start you were put before the fact that there was only you, Billy Russo, who you had met purely by accident, and thousands of walking dead, wandering around New York and ready to destroy you if the case emerged.

It wasn’t the life you had imagined for yourself even a week ago, eating an ice cream in a sunny park with your niece and laughing at two pigeons fighting for a stale piece of bread; now you didn’t know where the girl was, along with the whole family of your sister. You planned a trip to Bahamas as soon as you would be able to find time from your work. Your relationship with that cute guy from Tinder was evolving pretty quickly and you planned to go on a real date this weekend. You had an exciting life ahead, but in an instant it was erased from the book of faith, as well as at least a half of the Earth’s population — from the map of the world.

“Night owl?”

You flinched at the voice behind your back but quickly recognized Billy’s and innerly scolded yourself for being such a nervous wreck. Who else could it be?

You merely shook your head in response, blankly looking at the apple in your hands.

“Nightmares,” you answered, dropping the fruit at the table and crossing your arms on your chest, leaning back on the chair and closing your eyes. Billy’s presence didn’t let you think anymore, so instead you tried to throw all your thoughts away and perhaps, get in the zone and go to sleep for a couple of hours before morning.

“I noticed.”

At your questioning look Billy heaved a loud sigh, rubbing his temples.

“You screamed like a wounded dog,” he explained, already near the table, rummaging in the bag. “My head’s breaking,” he added later, with a block of pills being taken out of the front pocket.

You lowered your head, feeling guilty for the lack of sleep Billy got even when he decided to finally rest — it was your fault, and he was, without a doubt, blaming you, otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned your screams. Looking up at him, you noticed how tired his face looked, another crease on his forehead, and felt even more upset.

“I’ll… go,” you muttered, standing up and quickly making your way out of the kitchen, having made a decision to leave Billy alone. Secretly, or not so much, you tried not to stay near him for more than five minutes in a row. It always resulted in dumb quarrels and it was the last thing you wanted right now.

Billy answered nothing, settling down on the chair you were previously sitting on. Soon you lay back on the bed and fell into a dream once again, this time without any nightmares or anything else, interrupting your sleep.

You figured out one thing today: you were at the very outskirts of the city and that’s why, firstly, the surroundings looked so strange — high buildings, usual for New York, were mixed with partly destroyed wooden houses, and secondly, you hadn’t recognized this part of the city — you lived in the centre and had never been anywhere further than your workplace. Billy, on the other hand, knew every secret passage and every path, leading through heaps of garbage in the city dump. Although you were clearly interested, why did he happen to have such an unusual knowledge, you didn’t ask any questions, afraid to wake Billy’s mean side — this morning he was surprisingly calm and even said “Thank you” for the breakfast, made by you. Not that he was genuinely grateful, it sounded more like two drily thrown words to make you fuck off, but it was at least something.

You set off rather easy, leaving all your unnecessary belongings in the flat — the portable cooker broke down completely, some food deteriorated and Billy decided since that moment you would be travelling light. Now you had only guns, Billy’s precious knives, water and loaves of bread, along with some preserves. You felt sad for leaving fresh vegetables behind and tried your hardest to make a nutritious breakfast to at least get most of them to use.

Now you were walking through the parking lot of a supermarket, which, according to Billy, was near the border of New York. You were relieved that soon you would be able to ride out of the city, but at the same time you didn’t really know what was the point. Sure, open spaces were way more preferable and safer, but where were you going? Were you to do something to stay alive by yourselves, or were you to find help? Where would you get food? These questions had been twirling in your head constantly, but your mouth refused to open whenever Billy gave you a warning look, which had a power to shut you up at any minute.

Sounds of glass crashing distracted you, as well as they did it to Billy, who instantly raised up the gun, his face tensing. You ran to hide behind him, instinctively covering your head with your hands. The sound faded away as quick as it started, and you cautiously looked over Billy’s shoulder.

“Russo?” you called in a whisper, afraid that someone besides him could hear you. ”What was that?”

He merely shrugged, keeping his eyes on the glass door of the entrance to the mall.

You slowly walked further, trying not to make extra noise by scuffing the grainy ground. At first glance, atmosphere was calm around the supermarket and, as far as you could see, inside. But something must have made the glass crush, and it wasn’t anything good by default.

“Should we get over there?” you asked again, looking at Billy, who was still keeping silent.

“If you wanna die, sure, depart now,” he replied in that same tone he was usually talking to you with, but his attention was on the doors. “I suggest we leave the fuck outta here.”

To your mind, there was nothing better than agree, so you eagerly nodded. The two of you proceeded walking with caution, Billy’s gun alert.

“See a car there?” he asked after several minutes, when the supermarket was left out of your sight, hidden behind a sparse forest, and there was nothing around except for the car Billy was pointing at.

“Yes,” you replied, examining it.

A black Jeep Cherokee, the newest model, as far as you could tell from your narrow car knowledge; smart, but seemingly touched by violent actions — its left door had a giant dent. But overall, it looked like a pretty decent car, considering you didn’t have any other options.

“That’s our destination,” Billy continued. “Now listen.”

He fully turned to you, blocking the bright sun that was blinding you until that moment.

“That’s it,” he stated, spreading out his arms and looking over the neighborhood. “That’s the end. We’ll never go back to New York, ever.”

You frowned, nodding, although not understanding where he was leading his speech.

“I hate myself for picking you up, but I’m not just dropping you wherever, unless you want it yourself,” Billy went on, stepping closer. “You sure are a heck of a burden, but I’m not refusing to carry it.”

“Alright, king of allegories,” you muttered under your breath. “So?” you urged him to continue louder.

“You don’t wanna stay here?”

“What?” you asked, surprised. “Of course I don’t!”

Billy deeply breathed in and out with his eyes closed.

“Alright,” he said, opening them and turning away. “Just wanted to be clear on that,” he threw over his shoulder, making his way to the car.

“You’d be happy if I wanted though, wouldn’t you?”

Billy stopped, causing you to almost crash into his back.

“Hell I would,” he finally replied, making you wince.

You should have admitted that every rude word that came out of his mouth, hurt you. Maybe you didn’t show it that often, especially in his presence, but they were painful to listen to. You already knew you were useless at nearly everything, was there a need for confirmations?

Billy, though, didn’t seem to care about hurting your feelings in the slightest. Judging by the cold expression on his face, these words meant nothing for him. As much as you were scared to talk to him about it, you decided to yourself that someday you would rise this subject. Perhaps… just not now.

With such thoughts you reached the car, and you were ready to open the door and fall on the backseat when Billy grabbed your hand so tight that you couldn’t help but scream, hissing and rubbing it when he let you go.

“What’s wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with you?!” he asked, highlighting the last word. “I swear, with your common sense you’d be dead in seconds.”

“I’m tired!” you protested, but Billy didn’t listen, cautiously walking around the car and peeking into the window, letting you open the door only after these actions of his.

“Imagine walking into a zombie, hiding in a car, would you?” he offered, lumping the bag he was carrying on the seat. “No time to run and inevitable death.”

You rolled your eyes, getting into the car and stretching out on quite a large backseat, letting out a groan of satisfaction when you felt your muscles relaxing. You didn’t have any wish to start an argument, so you just sighed, putting your hands under your head and closing your eyes.

“We’re staying here for long?” you wondered, hoping the answer would be positive and you would be able to rest for a little bit more.

“‘Til I’m done with checking everything,” Billy simply answered. You lifted on your elbows and looked at him through the glass of the front window. He was absorbed in sorting out guns, laid in front of him on plain black surface.

“Alright,” you mumbled, leaning back and shutting your eyes close once again.

About an hour had passed before the dead silence was disturbed. It was that same sound of glass crushing, but now it was accompanied by screams of a person, and not only one. You immediately jumped up, feeling how your heartbeat accelerated in seconds.

“Russo!” you exclaimed, stepping on the ground, but there was no need to do it — he was already alert, with a gun in his hand.

You stood next to each other, witnessing the most horrifying scene you could ever imagine and never thought you would see. Two people, a young couple of a boy and a girl, were running from an immensely huge swarm of zombies, both of them crying. It was obvious that they were out of breath, making unbearable efforts to keep running for their life.

Your body and brain froze at this sight, unable to proceed any reaction. But when the couple noticed you and Billy and the boy started waving, screaming something incomprehensible, you flinched and tried to grab the first thing you saw — a small gun that Billy forgot to lift from the ground.

“Russo!” you yelled after he caught your hand in the air, making you stop. “Don’t you see, they need help!!!”

“We can’t help them,” he negated, slowly shaking his head.

“No, we can!” you kept screaming, attempting to break out of his tight hold. “We have a car, for god’s sake! Let’s ride into the zombies! We can help them!”

“Do you think these dead won’t kill us in an instant?” Billy coldly wondered, piercingly staring at you. “Do you think they can’t destroy a car?”

“We can help them!” you cried hysterically, but gave up on trying to escape. “We can help them...” you muttered, going more and more quiet with every word you spoke.

With widened eyes, full of tears and terror, you watched the girl tripping and falling down on the ground. You watched the boy stopping to help her and falling down next to her, his trembling legs refusing to keep him up. You watched terrifying creatures pouncing on them and fighting for their flesh. It was happening not too far away and you could hear the last cries the people made before being silenced forever.

“Russo...” you whispered, your breath shaking. “They were in the mall. We didn’t help them when we could… We killed them, Russo...”

“Stop,” Billy ordered and you obeyed, running out of strength to continue speaking. “Get in the car. Right now. We need to leave before they notice.”

All of your further movements were automatic: you crawled inside the front part of the car while Billy quickly collected his guns and put them in a trunk, you shut the door on your side. Your stare was completely blank and all the sounds were shushed, as if they were coming through cotton wool.

“We killed them, Russo,” you whispered again.

At that exact words of yours your car crossed the city border and left New York.

Tag List: @padfootagain @giggleberts @starless-skyox @furmicl @random-quartz @movokepwc @ilkaeliseb @sophiabulbu69