#{ specials: rocker!au }

[ctrlhope]

The Pitfalls of Silk (m)

synopsis: The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same. -> apart of the rest, relax, reserve series

p.jimin x f.reader

⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k

⋆𐙚┊: genre: hybrid au, soft yandere, soulmate au, romance, fluff, smut, v light angst

⋆𐙚┊: content: spider hybrid!jimin (cobalt blue tarantula), human!reader, soft yandere jimin, dom!jimin, power imbalances, blood, blood kink, injury, mates / mating, stupid misunderstandings, reader is rlly bad at feelings, heat/rut cycles, jealousy, biting/marking, jimin has fangs, brat taming, light subspace, bondage, fingering, breeding / breeding kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of venom, honestly rlly soft- jimin is just a little off his rocker, so many mentions of the word silk, jimin is soft for reader but also a little perverted freak <\3

⋆𐙚┊: notes: AHHH it’s finally here!!! I’ve had such a bad crush on spider jimin for such a long time. Creating his character over the years in my head— how exactly this type of hybrid would function was so fun for me. This fic (& the others that follow) has been spurred on by my special interest in arthropods so I hope you end up loving this jimin as much as I do <33 mwah I kiss u guys

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The weather has grown cold, too harsh for anyone to live outside— survive. Burly temperatures tumbling through the air in icicles, the entire world painted in white.

While the city was still busy, your quaint neighbourhood had gone completely quiet. Everyone huddled inside, trying to keep warm while they sipped on cocoa. The worst blizzard in generations deciding to tumble through on the exact weekend you were meant to go out of town. Meant to be enjoying a tropical beach with the best of your friends!

But nooo, all of the planes had to stay grounded and you had to be stuck in your house with nothing but chilly embers decorating your fireplace.

You were pissed about it all, to say the least. Annoyed that your vacation had to be cancelled, annoyed at the fact you couldn’t stay warm in the slightest, annoyed that you had to be shovelling snow out of your driveway right now.

Well, attempting to shovel snow would be a better way to put it. In theory it seemed like the right thing to do– try and get your car out just in case, start to clear a path for when you’d finally be able to greet the outside world, triumph over whatever winter gods are trying to keep you locked in your home.

In reality, you could hardly move– three layers of pants, two coats keeping all of your joints locked down. God, and the snow. It was coming down way too hard, piling up faster than you could brush it away. Hurting your cheeks with the freezing temperatures, making your bones throb with want to go back inside.

It is safe to say that you did not succeed. That was an easy enough conclusion to come to with the two halves of your snow shovel in your hands. Eyes staring blankly at the object with utter… you don’t even know the word.

Cheeks flushed red with cold, head lifting to the sky as you blink. What the fuck! How shitty can your shovel be! What the fuck is wrong with the snow!

Okay, maybe you did buy it at the dollar store. But that isn’t the point! Where has quality gone in our nation! Caring about the consumer! Yeah, that was never there to begin with! But still! You like to think that there's a point in that somewhere!

The snow falling on your skin feels like the sky is laughing at you, mocking you. It probably is. Cancelling your trip, forcing you to stay at home into the lonely confines of your small neighbourhood.

Yeah, the world is out to get you, you’ve decided it.

A grumble leaves your throat in annoyance, quiet cusses leaving your lips as your legs try to waddle themselves inside. Layers of clothing restricting every movement you make, joints feeling stiff and bones feeling cold. You are no more than a penguin, are you?

“Stupid fuckin’ shovel, stupid fuckin’ snow…” You huff, slamming the thick oak door behind you. Hoping, in a way, that you could pretend none of the frost was there in the first place.

It’s not that you hate snow– of course not. You don’t like to hate much of anything. But when it’s this deep, this thick, you can’t help the sour mood you fall into. Can’t help the sickly feeling in your gut that it has somehow wronged you simply for existing.

Whatever, not that it matters much. You aren’t mother nature. You can’t change it or your now cancelled– most likely non-refundable plans.

What you can change? A nice warm pizza in your tummy.

You hum to yourself, tapping off your boots before ridding yourself of them entirely. Soon follows your jackets, puddles of water quickly forming on the floor where it falls. Snow melting much too fast now that it is in the warmth of your home.

You stare at it in spite, another way mother nature has wronged you today.

You know what? No, not your problem right now. That is a problem for you later today! The wood would be fine. And if it isn’t?

…

You groan, throwing your head back as you move to the bathroom. The battle of opposing forces inside of your head has won again– being responsible, doing the right thing.

Your hand snatches a towel, “Stupid shovel… stupid snow…” You huff, kneeling on the ground to wipe away the liquid that pooled.

You hang the towel back in the bathroom for it to dry before finally making your way to the kitchen. To finally make the frozen pizza you want– no deserve! Yeah, you’ve had a hard day today, being an adult is too hard sometimes. You deserve a little treat don't you?

Feet scuffling against the floor, fluffy socks dragging along the surface allowing you to quickly slip against the tiled floor. Your hips sway, a quiet hum leaving your lips as your hands move diligently, efficiently. Placing the pizza in the oven, setting the timer, flipping the switch on on the kettle.

Everything happens with practised ease. With movements that leave no room for error. Careful, efficient, the way your parents always taught you. The right way.

If you do everything correctly, things will never go wrong. You’ll never have to worry. When everything is in your control, everything is perfect and content.

It’s too bad the right way never accounts for things out of your control. When the world causes you to tense and get annoyed– when it doesn’t behave the way it's supposed to, like you want it to. Just like stupid shovels and a winter storm no one predicted.

But hey, at least you still have power. Your backup generator is there if you need it. Can still watch your dramas and eat warm food. Keep yourself sane while the insane persits just outside of your door.

Lonely, lonely, lonely winter storm~ whatever shall you do~

Your head begins to sing to itself while you wait. Maybe you already were going insa–

Bang.

What the fuck was that?

Your eyes instantly dart to the basement door wide with fear– the source of the sound.

A crash, a quiet cry, a scurry all sound in quick succession. Too loud to miss. Too loud to ignore. Too distinct to place on anything else.

You know winter noises. The crash of shutters against the window, the influx of snow on glass. The beating of hail against the roof or the creaking of pipes chilled from the cold. The noises you just heard? None of the above. They couldn’t possibly be. They weren’t. They were too… too…

Human.

Shit, shit. Is someone in your basement?! Oh god, oh fuck.

The room, it freezes over.

Your pulse starts to race– hairs raise, stand on end. Breath filtering through your nose as you start to panic. Fingers grip the countertop as you try to ground yourself. Try to figure out a way to escape this.

If horror movies have taught you anything– it’s how to run. Grab everything you can, high tail it out before you become victim to the unknown lurking just below the surface of your floorboards. Before you can be possessed or worse, chased down by some mass murdering clown.

That would be the smart thing to do– the wise thing. To get out of your house as quickly as possible, call the police to investigate it for you before you have to become the ‘final girl’ of a movie franchise of your own.

But the storm, the storm would never allow for the right thing.

The police would never make it in time, the roads far too hazardous to truly reach you. If they did, you would already have frostbite from the cold outside by the time they made it. You might be worse off than before–

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The reasoning formulated in your head as you grab a broom from the closet, slowly make your way to the basement door. Completely ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut, the one that tells you that you actually want to travel down the stairs. A string tugging you along a path predetermined, forcing you to forego anything you had thought before.

No, your line of reasoning had to be the object pulling you down those stairs, creaking with every slow, nagging step that you take. It could never be curiosity, a want to understand the unknown guide leading you astray from the dirt road you’ve taken time and time again.

The right road that would lead to the right solution is all but forgotten in this moment. Only adrenaline spurring you on, fingers clenching and unclenching around the broom handle in your grip. Fingers tied so tight around the metal that your knuckles may as well be white.

You're terrified– scared out of your mind. The only noise passing through the drums of your ears is your own pulse, the accelerated beat of your heart as you try to clear the fog that dances over your brain. Fear must be clouding your judgement, making you follow it blindly into the light; well, dark.

Your breath leaps from your chest in short pants, eyes haphazardly harding around your form as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Something is keeping your legs moving when all your brain wants to do is turn back and run. Call the authorities like you should be doing instead of risking everything to satiate the incessant need pulling at the back of your skull. Acting on instincts alone, allowing the string of fate to tug you around the corner. The urge to investigate is stronger than anything you had ever felt before. Anything you’ve ever wanted to feel before.

He sees you before you see him.

“P-please..” The quiet, almost non-existent voice sends a chill down your spine. One you were not expecting in the slightest.

Terrified, panicked. Shaking like a leaf, eyes welled with tears. It’s almost like he knew you were coming down all along, just… didn’t know what to do about it. Too scared to move, too scared to hide. Too scared to do anything but sit there and wait.

Just as petrified as you.

Nothing about the scene before you is making much sense at all. Not to you, at least. Why is he so scared? Why is he in your home? Why isn’t he doing anything but sitting there with pleading, helpless eyes? You try to take everything in, try to fit the pieces of the picture together.

Basement window opened slightly, just enough to allow the man— was he a man? To climb inside. Pretty blonde hair completely dishevelled on his head, grime coating what you know would be such pretty locks. Eyes with double pupils brimmed with tears threatening to spill at any second. Pink plush lips quivering with worry, fangs biting into them so hard you fear they may bleed. No, they are bleeding.

He is definitely not a man. Nor is he a beast. An intoxicating swirl of the two combined into a species of hybrid you’ve never seen before.

The first thought in your head is one it shouldn’t be. One that makes your heart stop for entirely different reasons than before. Makes you drop the broom in your hands, allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Defences dropped completely in the face of the stranger before you.

He only flinches at the noise, blood covered hands reaching in panic to cover his all too sensitive ears.

Any worries have left you– something seeded deep within your soul tells you he isn’t a threat in the slightest. Not to you, at least. Never to you. Maybe it is the same string as before pulling you along. Pulling you to what destiny has provided.

He is absolutely gorgeous. Even with the grime and his pale complexion from the cold you can tell that easily. He might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you find lost in yourself what to do about it.

What is anyone meant to do when a drop dead gorgeous hybrid enters their home in the middle of a blizzard? Just as scared as you were moments before? Looking like he might freeze to death if you don’t–

Holy shit he must be frozen solid.

It’s only then that you come to your senses, your eyes racking over him once more as you take in all of him for more than just the beauty he brings.

His clothes are thin– far too thin for this weather at least. Tattered on the edges, few stains spotting the fabric, though its clear effort was spent trying to get them out. Your mind wants to wonder why he would worry about that, worry about making himself appear presentable, but raking your vision down you know there is no time for it. Not with the blood on his palms or the red of his flesh.

Your body moves quicker than your brain can think, crouching down in front of him. Noticing the way he flinches once more, the fear in his eyes more palpable, hurting worse than a gunshot wound.

The constriction of your chest is dumb, or at least it should be. Feels almost benign, unfounded. You just met him, you're scaring him, but for an unexplainable reason you wish you could take all of his worry away just for that moment. Make him feel a little better, a little warm. A little safe.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Your voice mumbles, trying to soothe him or yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

“I-I’m sorry… pl-please don’t.. It’s just so cold… Please…” He begs, though neither of you are sure what for. Not to hurt him, not to send him back outside. All you know is the tears that now flow from his eyes, cresting along his cheeks, dripping to the floor.

“Not going anywhere…” You hope your voice sounds stronger than you feel, hope he can’t hear the way the strings of your heart break, hope he hears how much you care in your tone all along, “Trust me a little okay…?”

You know your words mean nothing, that it might have been an impossible task for him to do so. But you had to try. Had to hope.

It should be hard for you to trust him too, it should be hard to rectify your fear in the face of the one who had caused it. It isn’t the right thing– none of this is the right thing, but it all just comes too easily. Compassion, caring takes over the anxiety too easily. Too brilliantly to do anything else other than care for this hybrid that has wound up at your door.

He was just a scared hybrid doing whatever he needed to to survive. Terrified out of his mind that he would freeze or starve out there– probably had no burrow or… you’re not sure, honestly, what his home might be like. But no home nevertheless. You could never just send another person out there to die.

He stiffens as you reach out for him, gently take his hands in your own. They feel like ice, frozen solid. You don't want to acknowledge what could have happened to them if he was out there any longer.

Without thinking you raise them to your lips, blowing on them as best you can. Trying to do anything to get the blood flowing again before you take him upstairs. Warm him up properly. Make him feel like more than a snowman once again.

You don’t notice the way his form completely loses all stress as you touch him for the first time, speak to him the first time. He feels transfixed on your voice– it had to be too sweet to be real. But you were too focused on your mission. Too focused on making sure the man who has broken into your home is okay to notice the way his lips part slightly at your tone.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches, the way all of his hair stands on edge as a current runs through his body, breathing life into every pore he possesses. Nor the way his eyes widen, losing their will to cry as he stares at you.

Don’t notice the recognition on his face.

You don’t notice a lot of things he does that day. Too focused on getting him into a warm shower– one he was very confused by, you might add. Too focused on getting a warm meal in his belly. Too focused on getting him in nice, clean clothes. A set that will properly keep him warm.

You could worry about other things later. But this felt right. This felt like something you were always meant to do. Or maybe that was just the size of your heart talking– you could never be too sure. But you liked to think it was the former. Liked to hope that Jimin, who you later learned was a spider hybrid, was always meant to come tumbling through your window, into your life for good.

The days that follow are easy– falling into a rhythm with him, taking care of him is just too simple. As basic as breathing, maybe.

Though, it hasn’t exactly been hard with how much he sleeps. How deep he’s nestled in your bed, blankets piled on top of him to drown out any chills that may attempt to slip into his bones. It’s almost like hibernation– if you could describe it. Re-building his energy, making himself feel strong again before he faces the world.

You can’t blame him, honestly. Not after everything he’s been through. Only god knows how long he had been out there. How long he had to brave the snowstorm, the cold weather that previewed it as well. You would probably do the same thing. Hide yourself from everything that hurt you.

Most days you wish you could be doing the exact same thing as him. Hide under a pile of blankets and forget the rest of the world exists. But the voice of your parents would always nag you out of it, force you to be human with the rest of society because it's the right thing.

You humph, gently placing a plate of food on the bedside table. Let him occupy your room for as long as he needs, preparing meals for him even though he never touches a bit of it. It’s the least you can do with his condition.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to stop someone's pain so badly. You hope you can by just doing small things like this. You sigh, heading for the door once again. Another day on the couch.

“Human…?” His voice is quiet, almost non-existent as he calls for you. Cracking slightly, the first time he's spoken in days.

You quickly turn to face him and almost want to fall to your knees at the sight. Fluffy blonde hair peeking from just below the covers, doll eyes peering at you while the rest of him stays hidden beneath the surface. Does he know how destructive he is?

Wait, no. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He’s letting his defences down, actually talking to you. Stop it.

“Hmm?” You gently call back, glued to your spot in the doorway. You don’t know what he would do if you moved, how startled he may be because of it. You want to talk to him– to find answers.

“What time is it…?” He slowly asks, pacing his question. You notice a slight lisp behind his words– how much of an effort he puts to cover it up.

“Mmm.. about 1? I made myself some lunch so I was just stopping by.” You explain, trying to justify your presence in the room.

“Oh.” He looks beneath the blankets, eyes darting around the room, “Okay. Thank you.”

It seems neither of you are great conversationalists, awkward air passing between the space left between your bodies. You don’t blame him. You don’t know what you would be thinking, feeling if you were in the same place as him. If you didn’t really know what your fate was going to be.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, playing with your fingers to distract from the nerves that you feel. As much as you want to jump, pin him down and ask every single thing your heart begs for, you know that isn't the right thing to do. You know you should be slow, careful with this. At least, that's what the articles online have told you.

“Better…” His voice comes out smoother this time, finally coming out of sleep as he sits up in the bed. Gently taking the plate into his lap, scrunching his nose. “It’s not cold in here like out there.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself. He seems so relaxed, so at ease. Not scared in the slightest of you or what you may do. You forget all about the fact that you should probably be scared of him too.

“Not really,” You smile gently, eyes glancing at the window as he starts to eat, “I was really worried about you, scared me bad.”

You don’t see the flush that covers his cheeks.

“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to… your window was the first one I could get through and I knew I couldn’t take the storm anymore so I–”

“Hey, It’s fine.” You turn your attention back to him, “I’m just glad you’re okay, yeah? It must’ve been terrifying out there.”

“It was.” He doesn’t hesitate in answering in the slightest, eyes serious as they focus on you. They’re beautiful, really. His eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, “Not your fault human, I left the reserve. My fault.” He tells you in earnest, wanting you to believe it with every piece of your soul that you could never do anything to hurt him, “Come sit?”

The question is quiet, but you oblige nonetheless. Legs moving you slowly, perching at the end of the bed to face him. Kicking your legs slightly as you stare at the pattern of your sweats.

“The reserve?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. His face is suddenly smiling, nodding at your question. He must like the place a lot, see it as home for him to become so excited.

“Yeah! Where I live,” He explains, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he speaks, “They say humans can't hurt you there, you get to hunt like in the wild too.”

He hums, content in talking about the one place he has ever found comfort in, found friends in. You can’t help but smile as he speaks, too.

“Yeah? It sounds really nice.” He’s nodding his head once again, as quickly as he can.

“There are lots of other arthropods to play with there. Lot’s of food. Sometimes the humans that visit will give you some too, but they’re normally scared of me.” He suddenly looks serious, eyes coming to meet yours once again, “You’re not scared of me, right?”

You jerk your head back, brows furrowing together in confusion. How could someone be scared of someone like Jimin? You’ve only known him for a matter of days and you doubt that you could ever be.

“Of course not.” You tell him, gently reaching a hand over to place on his knee. He doesn’t flinch away like you expect him to. “You just needed some help, we all need help sometimes.”

He smiles, the serious demeanour retracting from his face in an instant. Back to smiling down at his food happily. The silence doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, at least you don't think it does. It makes you happy, stretching on as he continues to eat like a man starved. He probably is, days of not eating and only sleeping.

“Why did you leave it?” You tilt your head, staring out the window once more. Few snowflakes trickle against the blue sky, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I figure if we’re going to be together through the storm–”

“You’re not gonna kick me out?” His face is awestruck, fork dropping to the plate in surprise. What is he talking about? Kick him out? In this weather?

You quickly shake your head, hand slowly pulling itself back from your knee. He whines in protest, quickly trying to force himself back under your heat. The touch of your hand warmed him up more than anything else in this room– more than the blankets, more than the heater or the warm towels.

His hand tangles itself with your own, pulls you back to his covered knee. Keeps your hand in place with his own while he uses the other to eat. Good. This is better. He likes it when you touch him. The way your small hand feels wrapped in his own.

Makes the tips of his fingers tingle, warmth spread throughout his skin. This is right. This is good.

“Why would I kick you out?” You ask in disbelief, either unnoticing or uncaring to the way he holds your hand– he’s unsure. Not that it matters much! “It’s too cold for anyone out there. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He smiles, the pit of his stomach only warming more at your words, “Good.”

“We have to wait for the snow to melt to drive you ba–” He cuts you off once again, not wanting to think about going back. At least not without you.

“My friend Taehyung leaves a lot,” He begins to explain, fingers squeezing your own as his palm lays heavy against the back of your hand, “He always talks about how fun it is. All the cool things he gets to see, you know?”

He places his plate to the side while he talks, licking one of his fangs gently. You don’t want to think about how handsome he looks while he does such an action.

“So I wanted to try it out, but we’re not really supposed to leave, you know? ‘Cause then we’re not protected.” You nod along, “And I don’t really have wings to fly out so… I had to wait until they weren’t really paying attention.”

“And that just happened to line up right before the snowstorm was supposed to hit.” You finish for him and he nods, looking down at his lap, “That has gotta be such shitty luck, Jimin. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, you just wanted to go out and experience new things and you almost ended up dead.” You frown at him, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of what may have happened. He simply shakes his head, plush lips tilted into a small smile just for you.

“I said it’s okay.” He tries to make you believe it, leaning closer. Feeling nothing like the stranger he was only days before. “I got to meet you, so it was all worth it.”

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Jimin has a mate that he’s going to be with someday. Someone he’s going to fall in love with. Someone he’s meant to be with, be happy with for the rest of his life. Someone that isn’t you. You really need to accept that and move on from this stupid fucking crush you’ve developed. One that will amount to nothing but heartbreak.

All hybrids have them– Jimin is not excluded from that. You know it’s true. Know it’s so true that you can hardly breathe but he just makes it so easy, too fucking easy to fall for him.

He takes care of the house, cleans it for you whenever there is a mess. Does the dishes after dinner. Takes out the trash. Tells the spiders in the yard not to mess with you– okay, you’re not entirely sure he does that last one. But he is adamant he can speak to them, and who are you to rain on his little spidey parade.

As the seasons change and the months pass, he only makes it easier and easier. Fitting into your life like he was the only piece missing. Filling in all of the bits and pieces you never knew you needed, wrapping silk around your heart and pulling it tight before you could ever think about letting him go.

Even as the months heat and his deep blue roots grow out from his bleached hair, he has no desire to the place he once called home. The reserve quickly pushed aside every time you try to bring it up. Saying he likes it better here, that this is now his home.

To be honest, nothing makes you more happy. Nothing in the world could possibly make you feel better than Jimin. His little webs he places in the corners, the soft way he clings to you when he becomes needy, the way he likes to show you any bugs he catches before he eats them. You’re not sure you could continue in your life without it.

Yet still, still. You’re not sure if this is right. The right thing, the right way to go about it all.

You often fear that you’re keeping him from what he really wants, if he actually wants to go back but feels indebted to you in some way. If that’s the only reason he actually sticks around.

You worry you’re being selfish in that regard. And then once again you find yourself spiralling into the void of questions you could never have answered. Feelings that will always be unaccounted for because Jimin has a mate.

Or at least, will have one. Someday. And you’re not sure if you could handle that day coming. Not in the warm heat of spring, flowers blooming alongside feelings for an arachnid that has entered your life.

One that has no intention of leaving your side anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it.

But nothing, nothing in the world could prepare you for this. What could prepare the thrum of your heart or the butterflies in your tummy? You never expected him to hold you this close, keep your body pressed against his own in the small space of the coat closet. Keep his face tucked away in your neck, whining in pain at something you could never think to discern.

So quickly you were pulled away, without a second to waste you were dragged onto his lap. One second kicking off your shoes, covered in mud from gardening, the next a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the dark confines. Only Jimin there to cover up your scream, lips delicately pressed to your ear uttering a quiet please. Voiced laced with a whine so pained you couldn’t help but join him without a second to spare.

A thought to think– a debate on whether this is right to do or not, for yourself and your own heart.

“Min? Min, what’s wrong?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask, pulling him away from your neck, making his head face your own. Hands gently cupping either cheek as your eyes attempt to make out the features of his face.

It’s too dark, you can’t see anything. The only answer he gives is in the form of a pained groan, not even his eyes reaching you through the darkness. You start to panic, feel the nerves along your spine light up in trepidation.

He’s hurt. He has to be. What happened? Is he okay? He’s never acted like this before. Not with you. Never before has he seemed so hurt, so dishevelled save for the night you first met him.

Just before this the two of you were gardening, mid-morning sun shining bright overhead. A light breeze passing through the trees keeping the two of you cool. That was it! He only went inside a few minutes before you, a few minutes alone and he was already hurt this bad.

Oh god, you never want him to hurt. To be in pain. It hurts your heart just as bad as it hurts him, if not worse.

You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.

“Min, let me just turn on the lights okay? Let me see what’s wrong.” You try to coax him, try to kneel from his lap to reach the string above you. Panic flooding through you as he keeps you snug, keeps you from helping him.

You stop your struggle, veins running cold as he lets out a sharp, violent hiss. A sound he’s never made before, never dare uttered towards you– around you in general. It leaves you nervous, scared for entirely different reasons than before.

But one thing is clear from the way his fingers dig into the skin of your wrist almost painfully. The same wrist that was reaching for the string. He doesn’t want you to turn on the light.

“Okay…okay I won’t…” You tell the arachnid, slowly lowering yourself back onto his lap. Letting go of the struggle, letting go of the resistance. It isn’t what he needs right now, isn’t what he wants.

His grip loosens, arms returning to their place around your waist. Holding you close. Keeping you in his arms. His face nuzzles back into your neck, inhaling deeply with every breath he takes. Smelling you. Imprinting the memory of it in his brain.

“What if I use my flashlight…? Would that be okay?” Once again, the response is a much short, quieter hiss. A lot less defensive, angry than the first. Just a sign of dismissal.

“Okay…” You say quietly, bringing one arm behind him to gently run through his hair. Scratching his scalp in a way that always has him preening, “Can you please tell me what's wrong? So I can help…? Please…”

Your voice is quiet, almost a beg as you ask him. He squeezes your body tighter in response. Would’ve basked in the tone you gave him if not for the pounding behind his eyelids. Still, he knows if he’s going to get you to stay, he has to talk. No matter how much it hurts.

A whine leaves his lips, nose running along the column of your neck as he tries to scent you, “Hurts.”

He answered, his voice shaky and quiet, but it gives you nothing.

“I know Min, I know…” You hush quietly, trying to consol something that you do not have the answer to. Your other hand slowly starts to soothe up and down his back, trying to relax the poor boy enough to speak.

“The light. Hurt eyes. Head Hurts.” He gruffs out, burying his face into your skin to block out any other source that he could.

Your lips part in a soft ‘o’ as the picture becomes clear to you. Staying outside too long, helping you in the garden had come at a cost to the poor spider in the form of a splitting headache.

How could you have been so dumb to let him help you? The articles you’ve read, the pieces you’ve tried to put together to understand the man in your life– they told you as much. How delicate some species' eyes could be but… Jimin never seemed to have that issue before. Never mentioned it, anyway. He doesn’t mention a lot about himself.

You frown.

“Min, I’m so sorry…”

He only grumbles in reply, blunt nails digging into the back of your shirt to keep himself grounded. To keep his head from pounding any louder.

“Let me– Let me go get you some Ibuprofen, yeah?” You hope the sound of your voice isn’t making everything worse. If it does, he doesn’t say anything, only shaking his head, burrowing it further under your hair.

“Just… stay.” He sighs in defeat, shoulders relaxing as he holds you close. He doesn’t need medicine. He doesn’t need anything else. He just needs you. Why can’t you understand that?

“I’ll–” You breathe, trying to force the flush of your cheeks to disappear. He can see in the dark, you know that much. You wouldn’t want him seeing this. The effect he has over you. Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is?

“I’ll stay.”You sigh in defeat, unaware to the pride that blooms in his chest at the battle won. The quiet chirp from his throat that he has you here, with him. Where you’re meant to be.

Hours pass just like that, just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. No words spoken but quiet requests to know the other is okay. That the other is safe. Even as your muscles begin to cramp, bones start to become sore you don’t dare to move. Don’t dare to do a thing when you are the only one that matters to him right now.

Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.

Especially as his migraine begins to lift, as the conversation between two souls becomes more frequent. As he moves your body to the side so your head can rest against his chest. As his fingers smoothe over the skin of your thigh, rubbing gentle, comforting circles into your flesh.

“And then Namjoon, you know how bad a flyer he is, ran straight into the director of the park. Made her spill her whole coffee all over.” He smiles to himself as he tells the story of the bee hybrid, eyes heavy as he looks down at your form. So cute and small, “and you know what he said?”

You shake your head, “what?”

“‘You need some honey?’” He recites, dipping his voice in a deeper octave to mimic what you can only assume to be Namjoon’s. His voice falling into quiet giggles, you quickly follow suit. Laughing at stories of friends, feeling at home in the dark closet.

You don’t care how long the two of you have been in there. Only that he isn’t in pain anymore.

“I’m glad you’re okay now.” You tell him, eyes feeling heavy, the soothing tremor of his voice vibrating in his chest making your head start to fog. Inklings of sleep slipping into your frame. Head lulling back against him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

He nods, his throat constricting at just how perfect you look there, fingers teetering on the brink of digging into your skin once more. “Feeling a lot better… my vision is still a little spotty but it's okay.”

You pout. He has to hold back a coo. Too cute. Do you even know how cute you are when you get like this? Probably not.

“No, it’s not okay. I should have known. Told you to go back inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

His heart pounds once, twice before he releases a shaky exhale. Do you know what you do to him when you talk like that? When you show him just how much you care?

The level of restraint he has, it has to be impressive. If he was Taehyung, he would have taken you right there. Wrapped your arms in webs so you couldn’t move. Mate you without a second thought.

Seriously, what did you think you were doing? Talking to him like that? Making him feel like he’s going insane, a few short strings from breaking free and just taking you to his nest. Keeping you there.

You can’t say things like that to him. Not with how innocent you look, with how terribly he already wants you.

A harsh breath comes out of his nose as he forces the thoughts away. He’s not Taehyung. He’s not going to take you for his own selfish desires alone. No, he’s going to keep lulling you into his web like he knows you want. Knows you need. Keep being a good little spider for you.

“I should have told you.” He says quietly, lips coming down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Couldn’t have known my species is sensitive like that.”

You hum in quiet annoyance, “Still… read online about some glasses that can help some insects manage light… should have bought them.”

A courting gift? No no, you don’t know what that is. No matter what his spider screams he knows that isn’t true.

He sighs, he needs a distraction. Something to calm the voice in his head screaming at him to kiss you.

Your leg kicks out gently as he starts, feeling like nothing but a feather tickling across your skin. Gentle silks laying across the surface from his wrists, spinnerets hard at work to produce the webbing he places on your thigh.

He huffs quietly, a smirk of a laugh coming out as he moves your leg back, “Tickles?” He asks, an amused lilt present in his voice. Oh god, he’s going to start teasing you again. He loves teasing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, eyes glancing down to where his fingers move expertly. Thread after thread moving through his fingers, decorating your skin as he draws pictures. Paints flowers, sunsets, anything he can think of really across the canvas of your thigh.

“Just drawing… calms me down.” Marking you, claiming you. Showing every other arthropod that this one is his, this one is Jimins’. Well, at least for the next 3 days when the stick wears off. “Do you want me to stop?”

A tingle runs through your spine as he works, eyes not able to leave his hands for even a second. Your stomach swarms with what has to be a hive of bees, your core bubbling with something you don’t want to describe or think about.

You just hope he can’t smell you. Can’t hear the race of your heart, the increase in breath. The flush on your cheeks that travels all the way to your ears.

He can.

“N-no… It’s okay. I want you to feel better so… do what you need to do.” You mumble, trying to get your feelings to calm down before you fully lose it.

You have to buy those glasses.

Being a spider is just too difficult!

At least that’s what Jimin has told you time and time again over the past 8 months you’ve spent with him. Cold, icy months blossoming into the summer heat with him by your side. With him making residence in your home, cementing his place in your life without any regards for going back to his original home.

It’s too hard for him out there anyway! People at the park think you’re scary so they won’t give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape. Something about having to “give other spiders a chance” and them “taking up too much space.”

Can you believe them?! All the time and effort he put into his pretty webs, gone in a flash! The strain the sun caused his eyes, the pounding headaches he endured stringing up pieces of silk along the trees, creating a beautiful orchestra of white to claim his territory.

Thank god he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, at least. Ever since you bought him those sunglasses, making webs outside has never been easier. Catching prey so much easier than ever before.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him eating the bugs he catches, but who are you to yuck his yum? You know all of the things he’s had to endure as a spider. Everything he’s convinced the world hates him for simply based on his breed alone. The least you can do is show kindness around his diet.

That’s how you end up rubbing his back in soothing circles time and time again, fangs piercing a stuffed animal or piece of fruit– anything he can get his hands on really, as he whines, flinches as he spits out all of his venom.

His venom is one of the worst things he’s had to deal with, you’ve learned. It builds up behind his teeth, waiting to be used on a waiting victim when there is no such thing. No exit point for the liquid to flow.

His fangs begin to ache, begging to pierce something just to release all of the pent up tension in his gums. It hurts too bad, too much to just keep it inside. So once a month, you find yourself in the same position, trying to help him relieve the aggression with soothing, gentle words as he spits the venom out in a way you can only imagine is unsatisfying. Leaving his fangs sensitive and achy for days to come.

In general, his fangs seem to be a point of special contention within the hybrid. They’re too pointy, cause too many issues. The extended canines digging into his plush lower lip just a little too hard making every movement just a little too uncomfortable. God, and he has to worry about brushing them to perfection– keep them pretty for his mate.

At least, that’s what he tells you.

The rest of the world hurts him. You don’t.

Today especially. At least that's what you can assume by the stretch of his arms, the whine bubbling from the back of his throat. His arms reaching for your form, beckoning you, calling you to join him on the couch. All worked up, acting like a wounded puppy that needs nursing just to get your attention.

It always works. Always will.

Some would say he’s become more pushy— more desperate for your attention, forcing it from your grasp without realizing it yourself. That’s what your friends have told you. How easily you fit into the palm of his hand with no more than a simple gesture coaxing you forward into his sweet embrace, never noticing the glares he sends others who enter your home.

No, you would deny all of it. Listen when he tells you that you don’t need your friends anyway. It just feels so good to be needed by him, wanted by him in a way you can never have him. In whatever way he’s willing to give.

r weakness than ever before. No matter how much you’ve tried to avoid it, how much you’ve tried to do the right thing and shove the stupid, pesky feelings down, he’s managed to twist himself into the confines of your heart. Filling a deep hole inside with his pretty silks and crooked little teeth. Takes up a lot more space then you’d ever be willing to admit. Not to him, anyway. Not when he could find his mate any day now.

You’ve been thinking about it more and more lately– the prospect of his mate. It’s difficult not to when he treats you so kindly. When he creeps in your bed at night to cold you, when he reaches out for your comfort alone. When he graces your neck with his fangs his lips–

You drop the dishes back in the sink, shoving your thoughts back into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Maybe if you can be his comfort for now, that will be enough. Even if it isn’t right.

Maybe that’s just how far you’ve fallen, how much he’s tangled you in his embrace. Not that it matters much, you smile all the same. Abandoning your task on only his third whine and fourth dramatic roll of the night. Giving in is so easy when it’s him.

But! It’s a new record for how long you’ve held out! Even got two stomps out of him. You should be proud of yourself.

Maybe you are, though it's for different reasons entirely as Jimin grabs at your wrists, pulling you down beside him. Nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a quiet, pained whine.

You like to ignore those other reasons. They’ll only hurt more if you face them head on. But it's hard to, so hard when he’s this close. When he’s holding you like you may just be the very thing from shattering his world apart.

Or maybe you’re over thinking things.

Yeah. It’s probably that.

“Y/n…” You feel his lips ghost your neck as he whines, wiggling slightly in discomfort.

His duality is always impressive, has been making your brain go a little haywire since he first moved in, since he became more comfortable in your presence. Letting you see him for what he really is. Always playing so cute, so pliant when he needs something– attention, food, for you to just give in and give him what he wants.

Other times he acts as if he could be the reincarnation of Arachne herself. Beautiful, deceptive. Terrifyingly aware of how attractive he is to the human eye. You think he does it on purpose. Likes to see your head spin as you try to keep up with which apparition of Jimin you will experience that day.

He doesn’t know how dangerous it can be, especially for you. How easy it can be to believe that it's real and not just the flirt of his personality. At least you have cute Jimin for now. It’s a little easier to manage.

“You okay Minnie? Something happen?” Your arm reaches up for where he clings to it, fingers gently petting through his fluffy blonde hair. The action seems to soothe him, make him almost pur from the feeling of your fingers alone. Make him feel the slightest bit better from whatever might be irritating him.

He forces his wrists onto your lap, nuzzles his face further into your neck. Inhale all the scents you have to offer. Let you see the issue of spiders.

The tiny holes of his spinnerets come into view, red and inflamed. Shit. They have to be hurting. The skin jutting out slightly more than it should be. Pretty strings of silk hanging in a messy manner. Clogged glands always hurt. Always make for issues.

You frown at the sight, delicately taking his wrist into your hand, looking at it closer. No, not too bad you have to take him to the doctor… you can handle it fine. But it won’t feel good, it never does. Dummy must’ve gotten too excited while webbing up the basement again, got his poor spinnerets working too hard. Overproducing silk to the point it has nowhere to go.

“Min!” You whine, already grabbing a pair of tweezers from the side-table– you’ve learned it’s always good to have a pair on-hand. “I told you that you gotta be more careful!”

“I know!” He hisses almost pathetically, “Just got ahead of myself!”

His voice is no more than a grumble, turning his head away from you yet not pulling away in the slightest. Pretending he hates when you scold him, when you show just how much you care about him.

You pretend it isn’t cute in much the same way.

“Always end up getting ahead of yourself,” You sigh dramatically, acting as if having to take care of the arachnid bothers you more than it actually does. Truth be told, you don’t care in the slightest. Who knows, maybe it even makes you preen in delight.

Feeling wanted as your fingers try to be as gentle as possible while removing the silk. Pulling out the little pieces strand by strand, work out the knot it's made under the skin to try and bring him some relief.

Though, no matter how careful you may be, he still flinches in pain all the same. Trying to cover it up like it was nothing, like every poke and prod doesn’t hurt. Like he can be tough under your gentle hands and pained gaze. He knows it has to be done and no matter how much you hate to see him in pain, you do too.

The dull ache will grow worse and worse, could even turn into an infection if you don't handle it as fast as possible. Worst case? He may have to have his spinnerets removed completely. A fate that feels worse than death to a spider hybrid– or so you’ve read at least.

Soon after he came into your life you did everything in your power to learn as much about his species as possible. Scoured webpage upon webpage, blog post on blog post, youtube video after youtube video. Even went down the sticky threads of a reddit rabbithole to try and learn everything about him.

The only thing you found: how horrible arthropod hybrids are treated in your society. Either sold at auction for absurd prices or cast aside completely depending on how “inhuman” they look. How they are used as tools to show wealth or are discarded from the rest of the world completely. The notion alone had pissed you off to no end.

Jimin was a member of the latter group– or at least that’s what you assumed. From behind no one would be able to tell he was any less than human. His lack of multiple limbs or fluttering wings left him to the devices of the reserve. Probably cast aside, dropped off by the people that raised him for not providing anything that went along with their definition of ‘value’.

Your eyes pinch into a quiet glare. They’re just fucking stupid. Anyone could see that Jimin is perfect. Anyone could see that he did not deserve the treatment he's received, nor deserved to be in the state he was in when you first found him.

And while you’re glad he didn’t end up with anyone else, still didn’t end up in an auction house like many others had, you hate them for thinking they could define his value. That they could define him for more than what he lacked. He still has beautiful fangs. Still has beautiful eyes and his natural cobalt-blue hair. He is still perfect to you.

A sharp hiss leaves his lips, arm attempting to jerk back from your hold as your grip tightens just a hair too hard. As you accidentally tug on a far too sensitive part of the knot. Getting a little too lost in your head while your fingers pick away diligently. Trying to ease the pain as fast as you can.

“Human!” He whines, quickly shushed by a flurry of apologies leaving your mouth. Face flushed, panic in your eyes as he admonishes you.

Once again you’re reminded all too well of how far you’ve fallen for him. Heart racing, brain yelling at itself for hurting him.

It’s dumb, you know that. Everything about the schoolgirl crush you’ve formed on him is. But it doesn’t stop the frown on your lips, the gentle rub of your fingers into his skin as you try to make it up to him.

A quiet grumble leaves his lips, heart hurting at the little dejected expression you wear. He forgives better than he forgets, moving his arms back to the pillow propped on your lap, allowing you to continue your work.

A pout stays on his lips as he watches your hands move. Watches the way the tweezers move under the thin layer of skin. Watches the way you move softer now, taking your time with him. Trying your utmost to not hurt him again.

To you it feels far too intimate. To him, it leaves him almost feral.

“Been working really hard on them lately, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds, trying to distract him or yourself from wandering thoughts– you’re not sure. He’s almost clean– almost all better so you can stop playing nurse. Get a warm washcloth to soothe the skin, take away any ache that lasts from the overused glands.

He nods, “Autumn is coming up…” He mumbles, the words leaving his lips in almost a shy fashion. Like it’s a secret that isn’t a secret at all in the coy fashion he knows you adore.

He knows all too well all of the things that make your stomach flutter. Listens to your heart beat like it’s his favourite song, the flush of your cheeks his favourite painting. Every little twitch of your lip or tap of your feet he catches with ease. You are his favourite everything.

You’ve become far more interesting than any book, far more gorgeous than any actress. Learned to read you better than yourself.But he supposes that would happen to any hybrid who had to wait as long as him, endure as much as he has.

Humans are tricky things, you know? You have to wait and wait and wait just for them to finally give into what they really want. Play the long game to win a prize at the end like he wants, deserves.

He’ll win it soon. August.

“Mmm? Having a contest with the house spiders or something?” You giggle, an effort to try and keep the atmosphere as light as possible. Try to distract from any pain he may be feeling at the moment.

Jimin is convinced he can speak to them– the house spiders that you allow to stay in the corners of your house. Another one of Jimin’s pitfalls that you couldn’t help but wonder into. He claims that they’re his friends, that he talks to them all the time. You, on the other hand, are unconvinced. They probably just use him for food!

“How did you know?! Who told you!” He gasps in mock surprise, head dipping low to rest on your shoulder before he continues, “No, not this time…they all know I would win anyway.”

“I know you would,” He doesn’t allow you in the basement to look at them, at least he hasn’t in the last month, but you’ve seen plenty strung around the house. Dotted in the corners of each room, his way of claiming territory. “You’ve always got such pretty silk.”

His face flushes– he knows you can’t see it. It’s good if you don’t, better if you have no clue how much your words affect him. Exactly how much those words mean to him.

Hopefully you will soon enough. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, you’ll know a lot of things. But right now you just need to stay a little clueless. Just for a little longer.

That’s what he promises to himself.

“What’s happening in autumn then?” You ask, finally pulling the last bit of silk from his left wrist. Both finally clean, finally working like they should be.

Taking each wrist into one of your hands, your thumbs find the openings to the spinnerets. Fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the flesh. Your version of a little makeshift massage. One that always causes him to fall apart under. Spine slumping, mouth parting slightly as he watches your fingers work. His brain going a little empty along with the soothing motion of your fingertips.

Another thing that you don’t understand the intimacy of. The extent of what your touch means to him. How terribly it makes him want to bite you.

His voice is a pitch lower than before. You can’t help but notice the way his breath stutters in his throat at the gentle movement of your thumbs. The way his pupils expand ever so slightly. The way he leans into your touch, avoids eye contact at all costs.

You can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks, the flutter of your ribcage. The way you keep going just because you know it’s making him feel good.

Stop it! You’re thinking in a bad way again! It isn't right! It’s just from the massage, the relief after his spinnerets are cleared! God, you can’t think about him like this. Can’t do this to yourself! Calm down, seriously. None of this is a big deal.

You know he can hear fast your heart is beating regardless of the argument going on inside of your brain.

“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.

Oh. That is something all of the articles definitely neglected to tell you. They didn’t tell you anything about… that aspect of spiders. Not that they explained much to begin with but certainly nothing about breeding.

You can’t help the way your grip tightens, trying to find purchase– stability at the revelation. Heart thrumming in your chest faster, more aggravated than before. The chill that travels down your spine with the hum of his voice so close to your ear.

Can’t help the sinch of jealousy that finds you either.

Fuck, you hate that he’s smirking– without even looking at his face you can tell! You know he can hear the exact pitter-patter of your heart, any little sound or smell you let out he can easily pick up. Knows your exact emotions before you know them yourself.

“Ah… I see.” This topic really shouldn’t make you so embarrassed! Pull yourself together!

You know that all hybrids have a cycle they go through. Heats, ruts, anything in between. You knew that when Jimin came into your life he would be the same! Knew there would be a time when he’d have to lock himself in the basement, body flooded with hormones. The pretty sounds you’d have to block out filling the house.

But still, because it’s him, you can’t help the nerves that arise from your core. The realisation that it would be coming sometime soon.

If you’re going to make it through you’d have to invest in some soundproof headphones. For your own sanity.

“Mmm?” He smiles, voice sweet and saccharine. Away with the pain of existing also left cute Jimin, leaving a deadly predator in its wake. One that likes to taunt and tease you while acting as innocent as an angel.

Leaves your brain confused, floundering trying to keep up with his deceptively sweet tongue. Doing it all just to get a cute little reaction out of you.

Guess he picked up on the exact little whirlwind of your mind, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”

“Shut up!” You whine, trying to stand from the couch so you can retrieve a washcloth. Try to avoid the way your heart is going to pound out of your chest, the way you know you’ll fall farther into his clutches.

His arms lock on firm, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck to rub his cheeks against your skin. Scent you just like he does a million times a day claiming that it's necessary. Spiders smell so much less than other hybrids– he has to do it or else.

Or at least that’s what he says– you think that it’s another lie.

“What!” He laughs, “Not like I’m saying anything dirty, it’s only natural.” He chides, sliding back against the couch, pulling you into his side with ease. Slotting you in like you’re meant to fit there, not whatever mate he meets in the future.

Your brain yells at itself. You know how dangerous that line of thinking is.

“Unless you want me to be dirty? I could if I wanted, you know.” He smiles as innocently as a wolf, fangs oozing with confidence behind them.

“Oh my god!” You sigh dramatically, putting on the front you always do when your heart feels like it may just explode. When you feel like digging an early grave because Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing.

You simply roll your eyes, “And I could punch you in the dick if I wanted to, you know?”

His laugh is always so pretty, boisterous yet still as light as air. Head tilting back, his neck on display as he chastises you for the empty threat. One you both know won’t come true, at least not right now.

He smiles, a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead as he urges you to stay. Promising he’ll be a ‘good little spider’ so you don’t have to worry about him. The implication of snacks and movies making you stay. The way he pouts when you tell him you’re not buying anymore BugBitez™ until the end of the week confirming that this is where you need to be right now. That it’s right.

It’s almost too easy for him too. Everything is too easy for you when it comes to Jimin. He claims the exact same.

Or at least, that’s what he mumbles in your ear now. Arms wrapped around you as tight as he can manage. Movie nearing its end with Jimin on the cusp of consciousness, you having lost the plot of it a long time ago.

Something about Aliens? Cowboys? Mothman? You couldn’t even hope to guess. Not when his breath is in your ear.

It’s hard to focus when he’s so close like this. When he’s saying pretty words that could get you lost in your fantasy over and over again. Making him harder and harder to give him up every moment that passes you by.

“Got lucky with my human.” He mumbles, half asleep, face buried in your hair, “Really good human.”

His lips move so lazily when they speak. Fangs running across the surface your skin like they have a mind of their own. Never daring to pierce the surface. Never daring to bite you for real. No matter how bad he really, really wants to.

How bad he wants to mate you. Make you his pliant little prey– see if the rumours about what his venom does to humans is real.

Your breath stutters but you pay it no mind. Trying, begging your eyes to remain focused on the movie. To ignore how deceptive sleepy Jimin is. Tomorrow, he will act as normal. His words will carry no weight.

He isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t his mate. You two are just friends sharing a house.

Feelings you have no right to have are forced down over and over again. It seems like it's become a daily occurrence– a pattern of habit you have no hope in breaking. The love piling behind your eyelids means nothing when the person he is meant to be with could be around any corner.

But it’s getting harder. Too hard to hold them back and restrain yourself. Especially on nights like this when it feels like fate that the two of you met.

Thinking back on that fateful day now, all of those months ago, you’re sure it had to have been. Maybe the winter gods (if such a thing existed) decided to shine their light on you; to make the blizzard a little less lonely. Make your life filled with long days and even longer nights just a little bit brighter.

Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.

Wanted you to live a life knowing your affections will never be reciprocated, knowing that Jimin has a fated one out there somewhere just waiting for him. Knowing that it isn’t you. Cursing you to a life of watching Jimin fall for another.

Thinking becomes so hard when it’s about Jimin. When it’s about the man who made you so far into the pits of hell that you don’t think you’ll ever crawl out.

So instead your fingers simply squeeze his hand. Rub gentle, soothing circles into the skin. Care for him like you’re meant to instead of thinking about what the future may hold. What will happen when he does find his mate. What they might be like, what they might dress like, if they’ll have to move in here, if you’ll have to watch him fall in love over and over again every single day.

You think you might hate them.

You sigh.

No, that wouldn’t be fair. Could never be fair to Min. He deserves happiness. He deserves the world whether or not you’re a part of it.

You hope he isn’t able to pick up on the changes in your scent.

“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”

August 11th.

A beautiful dream shattered by the incoherent nightmare that is your spider pacing around your room. A pillow pulled to either side of your head, doing everything in their power to drown out the noise as an audible groan leaves your lips. His nervous prattling too early in the morning for your liking.

Any other day it would be fine, you would think that it’s cute. The way he worries his lip between his teeth. The way he gently bites down on the pad of his thumb, one arm crossed while the other soothes the skin of his chin.

Any other day you’d sit in bed, listen to him. Mock him slightly with how much worry runs through his body.

But he isn’t talking about his mate any other day, is he? No, it seems that the occasion has been saved for this morning. His head running a mile a minute, losing all composure he once had before. Losing his very sense of self as anxiety courses through his veins.

“What if it isn’t good enough? I need to present it to her soon. Need to make sure everything is perfect for her.” Apparently he had met her. When? You have not a single clue. Jimin hasn’t left the house in weeks other than to go hunt bugs and to go to the grocery store with you.

“What if the web isn’t big enough? She might not like the style either…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the carpet as he moves back and forth across your room, “God and what if she hates the food… No, no you know what she likes.”

“Jimin, she’ll like everything. It will be fine.” You groan, sitting up in bed to face him, voice gruff with morning air.. You don’t want him to be in here, talking about this. Talking to you about this. Shattering your heart every second that passes by.

You knew it would happen someday, you really did. You tried to do everything right. Tried to pretend reality wasn’t creeping through your windows with every second that passes by. Try to ignore the impending sense of doom that covered your skin.

Did everything right only to end up failing once again due to the rations of Park Jimin.

You try to look at him through the fuzz in your eyes, sleep still trying to force you back into its clutches with everything that it has. Try to see what he is doing– understand what he is saying. His voice continuing to speak yet not fluent enough for you to actually understand. His body twitches ever so slightly, head jerking as his teeth dig deeper and deeper into his thumb. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room– not to him at least. Lost within the tangles of his brain.

Pulling himself deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind, spiralling out of control of everything that seems rational, everything that he is meant to do or meant to say. It’s almost like he isn’t in the room at all. Isn’t pacing along your floor, surrounded by your scent. Comforting his inner spider before it loses control entirely with the hormones that rush through his veins.

August 11th. The date was circled 5 times on his calendar– red exclamation points, doodles scattered across the stupid day. Yet now, for the life of him he can’t seem to remember why. He can’t seem to remember much of anything though, so that isn’t a surprise. Only his web. The gifts he’s prepared for this day. Yeah. Those are the only things he can seem to think about.

A hand lands on his shoulder– one that isn’t his own. Who’s touching him? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure of much other than the smell combing through the room that becomes sweeter and sweeter by the second. Honey he is unable to resist.

Especially with how soft the hand is that touches him. How gentle it is on his shoulder, his pace back and forth falling just so he can revel in it. Understand it.

“Hey Min.” Oh. It’s you. Your voice coming through the fog. Your voice startling him from the dream.

Gorgeous, gorgeous you.

Mate.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Why do you sound sad? No, maybe it’s distressed. His face falls.

No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sad. You should never be sad. You should always be happy with him. You should love him. His love should make you whole. Your love makes him whole.

Wait, does he have your love yet?

Now he isn’t sure.

All he knows is that he should. You should. He should wrap you up in his nest, hold you close until you feel nothing but him. Don’t think about anybody else. Look at anybody else. You should always be happy and safe. Happy and safe with him just like he feels with you. Has always felt with you.

More than that stupid reserve. More than his webs back there. It was fate that brought the two of you together, right? Right? So he should be allowed to indulge just a little. He should be allowed to let go of this stupid, fucked up play he’s been putting on for so long. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.

The reserve always taught him he was a wild spider, you know?

Wait, spider.

Spider.

His rut. That’s what’s coming today. That’s why the day was circled. That’s why Jimin isn’t acting like himself. That’s why his spider is itching, clawing to come out to play. Why he so desperately wants all of you to himself.

He hasn’t even presented his web yet.

He tilts his head at you, blank eyes staring down into bright ones. Ones that hold his entire world at your fingertips.

“There he is.” Your smile is almost blinding. Makes his head pound just like the sun's rays.

That’s right. That’s why he needs to keep his composure. To keep that smile on your lips. To keep you happy. To keep you falling in love with him slowly the human way. The way he knows you’d prefer. Knows you adore every second of.

He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.

The human way is better. Better at keeping you pliant. Better at keeping you happy. Better at keeping you unafraid.

He hates when people are scared of him. Hates when people flinch with every movement he makes. Hates when people can’t just love him like he so craves. He’s still a hybrid. He still wants love. He was bred for it just like the rest of them.

So when you came into his life, so gentle and caring despite the palpable fear that scented the air– weighed it heavily, it sparked light behind his eyes. When he felt you touch him, felt the sparks dance across his flesh and allowed himself to inhale once more. When there were no traces of fear within you, only the scent of his mate. His eternity.

He knew he had to do the right thing. Had to make you love him the human way. Had to make you fall for him, endure the wait. Endure the daily struggles of his instincts just so you would never be afraid of him. The end would be worth it.

He would never let you fear him even at the cost of his own sanity.

Because he isn’t Taehyung. He’s Jimin. He’s a good spider.

“You need to be careful Min…” You tell him quietly. Your voice is the only anchor to his shaky world. The light brought him back from the edge over and over again today.

He needs to leave your room before all of his planning goes to waste. Calm himself down. Present to you his web and all of his gifts so you can accept him properly.

“Your thumb… it’s bleeding honey…” He tilts his head again, inspects your hands as they move closer. Tries to force lucid thought from behind his heavy eyelids as you touch his skin directly.

Tries to ignore the throb deep inside as you gently remove the finger from his lips. Pull it away from the fang that was piercing him. The sting of the bite.

He hadn’t even noticed it.

He watches as a single drop spills from the abrasion. Slipping down his finger. Feels the way your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

The way your thumb comes to his lips, worry etched across your features as you swipe away any remaining blood from his lower lip.

Leave. He needs to leave.

He isn’t sure how your finger ends up in his mouth. His plush lips wrapping around the digit, tongue curling around your flesh as he licks away the red spilled. Sucking on it gently as heat curls in his stomach. His eyes half-lidded, staring into the recesses of your very soul.

A groan passes through him at the taste of your skin. How sweet you are against his tongue. Do you even know what a vixen you are? What a tease you’ve come to be over the past 9 months?

No. Of course you don’t. Not with the blush that rushes to your cheeks. The stutter of his name that passes through his lips. The questions that you ask– what are you doing? Wh-why?

He wants you to be quiet. To enjoy you for all it’s worth. Enjoy everything you have to offer.

The command is silent– no more than the press of his bleeding thumb to your lips. The demand that you part them for him. To clean that wound that you unknowingly caused.

A hand on your cheek directing your head back. He’s been a good little spider, you can be a good little girl too, can’t you?

You are.

“J-Jimi–” He slips it inside, resting the pad against your tongue. Holding it in place. Asking, begging for this one little thing from you. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve always made him feel better before. This is no different, is it?

And so you do.

He watches the way your eyelids fall, your lips close as you begin to gently suck against it like he so craves. Like he desires down to the very cells that make up his body.

To imagine it’s his cock instead. Gently fucking into you over and over again, teaching you how to take his it how he likes. How he knows you’ll like. You’ll love everything about him. You’re meant to. It’s in the fabric of your DNA and soon it will all be his. Right after he shows you his–

Shit.

He needs to leave.

Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.

His rut is coming too fast, too strong now that he finally has his mate in his grasp. He needs to leave. He needs to calm down so he can go this properly.

He leaves you on the bed, more confused and distressed than when he first entered. Annoyance hovering over your entire wake in a blanket of unrest. One that you know will not ease your soul for the rest of the day.

The spider has locked himself away. Hiding from you. Keeping himself in the basement, door locked, shutters drawn to drown out any sense of you that may be persisting.

You, on the other hand, have had nothing to do but stew in your own emotions. Think about every little decrepit detail that occurred hours prior. Edicting yourself to only address him by spider even in your thoughts.

It’s spiteful, sure. But it’s the least he deserves, you know? After everything he’s put you though– pulling you along like a little puppet on a string. Making you sit idly by for him to give you any lick of affection he’s willing to part with. Making you feel special, like you're worth something every second that he gets only for him to remind you with too much familiarity that he isn’t yours to have.

He woke you up, told you about his mate, looked at you like he was going to fuck you, and made you suck on his finger only for him to leave? The sheer fucking audacity of this man.

You’re sick of it.

Sick of having to force everything down because you know it isn’t what he wants. Sick of falling in love with him every day. Sick of having to play house. Sick of not having him. Sick of being playing the lovesick fool.

So, into the novels you fall. Into alternate worlds that are far better than your own. Displacing yourself into new habitats, new environments to escape the confines of the four stuffy walls that surround your body, head, and heart.

Into a world where it’s okay to fall in love with whoever you want. Where it’s okay to feel wanted. Where reality can be shut away by your headphones and a good snack. Where you can ignore the body approaching behind you. The tap on your shoulder.

You try to, honestly. And a good attempt it was.

Keeping your grip firm on the pages, nails digging into the paper below. Breath in your lungs held as if doing so would keep him away. Eyes tracing the pages over and over again though reading nothing. Attempting to appear as if you didn’t notice him at all.

Maybe he would leave, that was your biggest hope. Take the headphones placed firmly over your ears as a loud, obnoxious hint. That he would see you’re not interested and retreat to his basement layer to plot on the next way to torture your heart.

He doesn’t. He never would.

His frame comes to kneel in front of you. To stare up at you with those big brown doe eyes that you know you could never escape. Placing a gentle hand on your knee, trying to get you to see that he is there. That he wants to see you.

You see his lips move, though ignore entirely what they say. Letting out a huff, turning your body away from his own. Continuing to mindlessly stare at the pages even though their contents holds no meaning in this moment. No real value.

His forehead drops to your leg, a sigh leaving his throat. Words mumbled from his lips you’re unable to make out– not that you would want to hear them anyway.

Maybe it’s a temper tantrum of sorts. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. To feel even a pinch of what you do. He probably never does.

Your fight is a good one. It truly is– at least you think so. But it all comes tumbling down the second his lips press against your knee. His hands reaching past your iron grip on the book to hold your own.

You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.

Especially when you see his lips mouth the word please. His brows crested with worry, his lower lip quivering in worry. Fangs biting the surface to try and soothe the nerves he feels.

Any sense of foreboding he held earlier, gone. The tick of his shoulders, the cold, blank stare of his eyes vanished. Your Jimin, the one you’re used to, in love with, rising to the surface again.

You’re unable to fight against the plea, no matter how much you want to. Unable to fight against him.

“What is it.” Your voice is harsh as you remove your headphones, setting the book to the side. Much more than it appears he’d like it to be if the flinch of his neck is anything to go by.

“I…” Words feel lost in his throat, but he forces himself to continue forward, “I have something I need to show you, human…”

Why is he acting so weird? Acting like earlier never happened? He seems nervous, almost petrified at your reaction. As if anything you say could break him entirely.

You don’t understand it at all. Anything about this situation, really.

“Okay…?” You watch his face carefully, trying to reason. To figure out why exactly the air seems so heavy. Why this situation feels so tense. “Show me then?”

“I…You have to come with me?” It sounds like a question, his face flinching at his own words. He’s meant to do this perfectly. Why can’t he seem to get it right? Why can’t his instincts help him with this? “Like, I can’t bring it up here… I need you to follow me?”

“Huh?” The quiet breath leaves your throat as your features pinch.

He quickly tries to explain further, trying to help you see through the worry on your face, “Not far I promise. Just to the basement, yeah?”

Your head jerks back in surprise, “You never let me go down there.”

“Yeah but…it’s special this time.” Oh.

It’s almost as if the pieces click together on their own. Your brain drawing conclusions, making decisions for you despite the obvious staring right in your face. His mate is probably down there. Wants you to meet her.

You can only sigh, accept your fate for what it is. Follow the boy with the string to the basement once again, just like the first night he came tumbling into your life.

“Okay.”

He holds your hand as you walk.

Holds it as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the red string of fate that has tied your two bodies together for the rest of eternity. As if he might die the second you two part. As if you might run away the second he lets go.

You never do, never try to run away from him. You’ve tried to run away from your feelings for so long. The least you can do is see through to the end of them, right? That would be the right thing to do. The dignified thing instead of trying to throw a tantrum on the floor.

The walk to the basement feels like the longest in your life. A marathon you have no training for, no experience with tugging you along. Silence extended for miles along each creak of the floorboards, each set of the dim stairs.

Jimin left the lights off, dusk settling along the horizon not long ago. Only distant flickers from the basement coming through as you make your way down. Candle light in the distance lighting the way.

He doesn’t say a thing as your feet reach the bottom of the stairs, toes cushioned by soft silk lining the floors. He doesn’t have to.

It’s beautiful. That’s the only way you can describe what he’s turned the basement into.

Beautiful silks cover every waking surface– the floors, the walls, the ceiling all lined in brilliant patterns of white dancing across the surface. Creating stories as if they were living themselves.

You wish you could stare at them. Admire them for the rest of your life. Decipher each piece laying, coating the surface. Envisioning the world through the eyes of Jimin. Through the world around him.

Webs cross from floor to ceiling, taking space over the room. Intricately laid in patterns you are more accustomed to with spiders. Webbed hatching sectioning off parts of the space, acting as furniture for the bug to rest on.

As your eyes scan the room, you finally find what you think has to be the most gorgeous web in the world. Sitting in the far right corner of the room stands a nest that takes up the entire corner. The effort it took to make it clear in its craft. So soft, so comfortable.

You almost want to curl up in it yourself.

Illuminated by only the glow of candle light, Jimin does nothing but watch as you take everything in. Watch as your face changes into that of euphoria. Mesmerised by everything he has worked so hard on, everything he’s done just to impress you.

You turn to face him, staring at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes.

“Jimin, this is– fuck this is incredible,” Your voice is breathless, cut off by how overwhelmed you are with everything. With him. “This must’ve taken you so long, it’s so beautiful. Oh my god, how did you–”

He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take it now that he has you here, has you in his web. Now that he can keep you in it forever. Complimenting him. Completing him. He needs to finish with the rest of this fast. Before he does something he’ll regret. Before he finishes showing you how good a mate he will be to you properly.

He tugs you forward, practically puzzling as he tugs you deeper into his room of webs. Expertly guiding you through each one without a second to spare.

Jittery, excited. Feeting rocking themselves back and forth as he sits you on a blanket placed on the ground.

He isn't going to last much longer. Not before his heat takes over. Before he loses his mind at you in the sight of his nest. His mate in his nest. Waiting to be bred. Waiting for–

No, no Jimin. Stop it. Stop acting like a spiderling that doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has his mate in his nest.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he tries to calm himself down, “I made us a picnic… I hope you like it.”

His spider hisses at the words, hating having to describe it as something stupid like a picnic. No, it's a nuptial gift. Evidence that he’s a good enough mate. That he’s good enough for you. That he deserves you.

You watch him, watch as he pushes the basket filled to the brim with food over to you. Watch as his frame shakes slightly as he stares at you, fingers tapping against strings of webs closest to your leg.

You can’t help but feel lost. Overwhelmed with affection, but utterly, entirely, hopelessly lost all the same. What is he doing? Why is he presenting all of this for you? Shouldn’t he be doing this for his mate? Isn’t all of this some type of courting ritual?

Oh.

It appears the puzzle you constructed– pieces matched together haphazardly stuck together with glue isn’t the solution after all. Isn’t the reality presented before you know.

You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?

Your eyes widen, head jerking to meet Jimin’s gaze. His pupils shaky, not daring to leave the surface of the basket. Not daring to move an inch until you accept him.

You’re an idiot.

“J-Jimin a-are we…?” You hesitate to ask, hesitate to break the gentle balance residing over the entire basement.

His head snaps to face your own, eyes plagued with the same blank, predatory look as before.

“Mate.” Deep, harsh, scratchy. His voice makes you feel like he’s going to devour you whole. Like he is the monster waiting in the deepest recesses of your nightmares when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When in reality he is the very being your soul yearns for stronger than any other.

The revelation, the– everything leaves you overwhelmed. Emotions strung up for the stars, casting aside any comets that tried to hurdle towards the perfect glass encasing this moment. This eternity you wish to live in forever as you finally understand that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You can’t help but grab his cheeks– ignore how venomous he looks, and press your lips against his own. Can’t help the explosion behind your eyelids, the sparks that travel across your skins in euphoric waves. The way your heart swells like a balloon, racing in your chest so fast you fear you may die.

Every emotion you’ve felt that day, every nagging, creeping sensation finding its way into the back of your skull vanishes in an instant. No going back. No orchestra or chorus reprise. No thoughts of not being his mate. You are his mate.

Only him.

Only Jimin.

He doesn’t part with you, not for a second. Not when he finally has you against him. When you so easily rise into his lap. When his natural instincts finally stop screaming at him and take over completely. Kiss you with everything he’s worth. Devour you whole.

His hands find purchase on your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin. Mocking him for not doing this in the closet with you all those months ago. Allowing him to truly understand how good it would’ve felt then. How good it will feel every second that follows.

He thinks you have to be the prettiest thing in the world.

His spider thinks that you need to be bred full of his spiderlings. Fucked so hard that you wont be able to walk– wont be able to leave his nest. That he’ll be able to tie you up nice and pretty, stuff you with his cum over and over again until you’d never even think about leaving.

His spider is winning.

“Min…” Your voice is breathless, trying to keep up with the flurry of kisses he presses against your lips, your face– anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s addicted to the feeling, like he’s making up for lost time.

“Min, I love you.” And just like that, any sanity he has left vanishes.

His spider has won.

Without a second thought you’re lifted from your place on his lap, thrown carelessly into his nest. His nest where you will stay. His nest where he’ll keep you. All thoughts vanished from that pretty little head of yours. Just like it should be.

His hands find the back of his collar, shirt discarded without a second thought on the floor. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when he has you. When he wants to feel you fully.

You can only stare– fawn at his tan skin. The gentle muscles on display for you. For your eyes only while he crawls towards you. Stalks you just like they might a pretty little butterfly caught in their web. Wrapped in webs and killed without a second thought.

His lips find yours once again. Slotting together, filling the other to make them whole. Dazed in lust and passion, neither soul hoping there would ever be a way out for the other.

Well, there won’t be for you. But that’s okay. You’ll love it. Love every second of it.

He knows it as his fingers dance against your skin. Sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, running with skilled ease up your sides. The chill that racks through your body is evidence enough. The way you so easily allow him to draw your shirt over your head solidifies it. Your shorts follow, making it set in stone.

Your breath comes out in short pants, every slight touch, every little movement sends fire burning through your skin. Igniting you, setting your core ablaze with heat that only he can extinguish.

Fingers gently sliding over your ribs, thumbs coming just blow your breasts to rub circles into the skin while his fangs nip gently into your lower lip. He can’t bite you now. No, after he mates you he can bite you all he wants.

He groans at the thought, hips rocking themselves against your clothed cunt. Allowing you to feel all of him– the press of his cock, the motion of his need allowing you to fall higher and higher into a heaven you did not think possible.

You whine at him to do something, anything. Too impatient to wait any longer. Too impatient to live a second more without something, anything buried inside of you.

His smile is sick, twisted as he reclines back on his heels. Allows himself to get a good look at you.

“Shh, Shh…” His hand cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb against your lips. Pressing it inside with more ease than before. More compliance than before. There’s a good little girl.

“Poor thing is having a hard time, huh?” He mocks gently, hips pressed firm against your own allowing you to feel every inch of him, “Pretty lips all swollen, pussy a little mess from just kissing… mm mm…”

He groans, hand slipping between your legs. What he finds is no more than a mess of a girl. Hips bucking upwards. Slick dripping from your center, panties coated in arousal. Puffy little clit begging for any attention he’s willing to give it.

Without any hesitation his thumb finds your clit, pressing against it without any thought of reprieve. Without any thought to give you any of the relief you crave. You’ve made him wait this long, you can wait a second, no?

He groans high as you buck against his hand, mewl leaving your lips as some sort of plea. Ah~ how cute. Such a little thing so desperate for something, anything that you’re willing to give up your very head in return? How cute! How adorable!

His spider preens. Is almost so belated he doesn’t notice the hands that come down to grip his wrist. Hold him in place all so you can circle your hips against his thumb. Rub adorable little rings into your clit without any help from him. Use him to make yourself feel good.

A coo leaves his lips. Who is he to deny such a pretty little human?

“Ah pretty baby wants to feel good, does she?” He almost giggles at how pathetic you look. How adorably you cling to him. How hard you try.

His arm is ripped from your grasp, pulling back from the very place you desire him most. Where your arousal soaks the cotton of cotton, so palpable he can practically taste it in the air.

“It’s okay baby…” He sees the annoyance in your face, the battiness you hold in your heart coming to light. Excited to tame it. Excited to quell the pretty little devil in his web.

Tie you up. Breed full.

Breed you.

His fingers work fast. Arms are pulled over your head, silks quickly pinning them to the surface. Strings wrapping and wrapping until he’s sure you’re secure. Sure you can’t move.

His hips gently rock against your own, clothes cock pressing against your core. Watching as your hips buck, as you try to urge him closer with a pathetic whine.

See exactly how you struggle against the strings.

Perfect, perfect girl. How did he get so lucky, huh? Can never be sure.

You’re unable to stop the cry that leaves your throat as his hands pull your panties aside, finger thrusting into your wet heat. Filling you up, making you feel a little more whole.

“Min~” The moan of his name is shaky. Every sense you have in overdrive as he works his finger against your walls. Every push inside deeper, harder. Curling against your walls in the exact way you craved.

Pleasure coils in your stomach faster than you thought possible. A second finger joining the first, pumping in and out as he prepares you for his cock. Prepared you to take all of him and nothing less.

He knows you can do it. You can, can’t you?

“Mhmm baby, I know… head a little clearer now, huh?” He chuckles, chastising, “Can only think when you’re full. It’s so cute.”

You whimper at his words, head rolling back as the coil pulls tighter and tighter within your gut. Urging you to just let it snap, feel everything you’ve been waiting for.

“F-feels good…” You mutter quietly, unable to see the haze cloud his vision. The way his amused expression drops into that of a wild animal.

Without any warning his fingers pull out of your heat, body leaving your own entirely as he stands. Grabbing your hips, dragging them closer. Flipping your body over. Setting you pretty on your knees, arms uncomfortable crossed in front of you.

He quickly rids himself of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from their confines. Head red and messy as it hits his stomach. Angry at how neglected you’ve left him. How desperately he wants this.

You have no way of preparing yourself for the drag of his cock through your lips. The gentle nudge against your clit. Thick head dragging through your folds, spreading your arousal. Mixing it with his pre-cum.

Making you messy. Making you dirty just for him. Making you belong to him.

“Gonna fill my mate.” All humour is gone from the man behind you, as if he is someone else entirely. It’s really too bad your head has a few too many screws loose to care. Care about anything other than the way his firm head presses against your hole. The way his blunt nails dig into your flesh.

“Gonna breed her. Mate her. Make her mine.” It’s almost as if his word is a command. The very sentences he utters become law.

You can only nod your head. Give yourself to the very man that fate led you to all those months ago. “Want~”

The thrust of his hips into your walls is almost too much to bear. A cry leaving your lips as he fucks himself inside in a single thrust. Forcing you to take him to the hilt, to feel all of him stretch your walls. No break. No waiting around.

You’ve both done enough waiting.

It hurts— the burn, as he stretches you full. Presses his cock against your walls making sure your cunt remembers no one but him.

The way he gives no reprieve, fucking into you like an animal starved. Pulling back until only the tip remains inside before fucking himself fully inside once more.

“Min!” You cry, waves of pain and pleasure boiling all the same within your bones. All the same inside of your blurred head, nothing but static and thoughts of him behind the line of your eyes. Slipping off into space as you let cunt clenched pathetically around his cock.

“Good mate, taking me so well. Such a good human.” He groans, hips pulling back and thrusting into you over and over again. Making you fall apart with his pace. Pumping his cock into your pathetic little hole fast and hard. Ruining you for any other man.

Making sure he will be the only one you allow to enter heaven.

Your moans come out wanton, pleaing. Hips start to move back against him, trying to keep up with his pace despite the burn you begin to feel in your tied arms. Desperate to let him know just how good he’s filling you. Just how good he’s making you feel.

“My mate.” His pants come out harsh, breath on your neck as he hovers close. The sound of skin and against skin is the only thing you’re able to hear. The pressure of Jimin’s lips against your neck makes you feel like you’re about to go insane.

He’s desperate to make you fall apart on his cock alone. Pleasure building and building, the coil tight. Ready to snap at any moment. Ready to fall apart at his command.

“Gonna make you mine forever pretty.” His voice is featherlight once more. The switches have you reeling, your brain spinning. “Want that, don’t you? For me to bite you? Mark you up? Breed you full of my spiderlings? Ruin that pretty little head for anything else.”

He sighs, nails digging into your hips where they’re sure to leave bruises. You nod your head in agreement, moans spilling past your lips as his hips change their angle. His cock hitting the spot that leaves you seeing stars on every thrust.

“Say the word and you’re mine.” You feel his fangs against your skin. The harsh drag across your delicate skin. “Forever.”

You can’t take it anymore, pleasure burning through you. Blinding you. Unable to think about anything else other than the rough thrusts of his cock against your walls.

“Please.” It’s no more than a whimper, but he swears it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.

His teeth clamp into your flesh— the final thing needed to push you over the edge into bliss. Your body stutters, walls a vice around his cock as the coil finally snaps. Heat flowing through every cell you possess. The only thing in your soul is Jimin.

Your back arches, eyes dotting with black as you allow it to overtake you. Jimin rocking you against him, groaning as he fills you with his cum, painting your walls white. Allowing you to ride out your high with him. Finally allowing the rut to rid his brain for only a moment.

He slowly pulls out of you, panting. Quickly moving to cover your center back up with your underwear. Make sure all of his cum stays tucked away in your pretty little pussy to get you nice and pregnant.

You can only whimper, body twitching at every movement he makes. Worn down your bones— energy sucked so dry you can’t even feel the throb of your neck. Don’t even notice the blood that drips from where he marked you— claimed you in the way only a hybrid can.

All you're sure of is the need to be close to him. Need to feel him.

Is this what he had been feeling all along? Marks were known to do that, to allow you to feel what your mate does. If he had to endure what you’re feeling right now, it had to have been hell for him.

“Min…” you calm his name. Pull him from where he stares between your legs. Where his fingers rub circles into the surface of your underwear, spreading any cum that leaks from your twitching hole.

Within a second he’s at attention, staring at you with all of the love in the world. You’re not sure how you missed it before. How you could have deluded yourself into believing any less.

He pouts as you wiggle at your restraints, silk holding your arms in place all this time. He gently shakes his head, slowly flipping your body back over onto its back. Crawling over you to look at your face properly. Take in your fucked out expression. Ruined his pretty little human. Made her perfect.

“Don’t want to.” His lower lip juts out at you, eyes wide just like a begging dog. “Look pretty tied up in my web. Should stay like this. Forever.”

“I don’t think my job would like that very much.” You giggle, lip pouting out to match his own. He leans down, quickly capturing your mouth in a quick kiss.

Something hard pressed against your leg once more. His hand comes down to guide it against your heat. Rub against you despite the oversensitivity and cum leaking from your hole.

“Then we move to the woods together… I’ll hunt for us…” He grumbles, pushing your underwear to the side once more. Collecting any cum that has spilled out with his cock, gently fucking it back into your cunt with the head.

A whine rips from your lips due to oversensitivity. Pussy sore, aching from what he just put you though. What you aptly begged for. Yet you can’t deny him. Don’t want to deny him with how good it feels to be filled. How addicted you’ve become. Cock drunk.

“Wh-what?” You try to breathe, walls fluttering around his length as he slowly thrusts back inside. Filling you to the brim once again. “W-we can’t do that, Minnie…”

His thrusts are slow, languid. Almost like he’s making love. Treating you with utmost care despite how wrecked your entire frame is.

He is entirely unaffected. His rut leaves him wanting for more and more until you have nothing left to give. Face twisting into confusion at your words.

“Why can’t we? Make you up a nice pretty web… keep you full all the time” He hums against your neck, gently licking at his mark, “treat you like a real good mate, yeah? Fill you up over and over. Will look so pretty with my spiderlings.”

He moans the words, hips speeding up ever so slightly at the thought. It dawns on you that this must be his rut talking. Filling his head with nonsense he knows can’t come true. In a few days when he wakes up from it, he’ll probably pretend he never said anything about taking you to the woods. Keeping you there.

No harm in agreeing, is there? Especially when he makes you feel so good. So happy and full. When it makes him feel just as good. When your head starts to feel fuzzy, the exhaustion weighs heavily on your consciousness. You’re on birth control anyway, it's fine.

“Mmhmm… sounds nice..” You moan quietly, already feeling your second orgasm approaching. Allowing yourself to become lost in the same dream as him. Allowing yourself to fall victim to pretty words and false promises. Ones that he intends to make true.

“Gonna take such good care of my mate.” He groans, face buried in your neck. He feels your walls clamp around him, pulling him in over and over again. Cunt never wanting him to leave.

His hand draws between your thighs, fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Neither of you are going to last long. Both too sensitive to do anything but fall into the pleasure of each other.

Pussy fluttering against his cock, head rolling back as your high runs through you once more. White clouding your vision, ears ringing as you are overcome with fire. Drowning in the feeling of his cock fucking you full of his cum once again.

He lets out a harsh groan as he fills you. Breeds you just like a good spider would. Makes you feel complete as he helps you through both of your highs.

Your eyes feel heavy— too heavy to stay open even a second longer. Too tired to stay awake as he pulls your underwear back over your center. As he pulls your body close to his own.

He doesn’t blame you, never could. It must be hard having to keep up with a hybrid during their rut. But he knows you can do it. Knows you’ll do it for him. Especially with the promises you made. The ones you made only to him.

The last words you hear before falling under the veil of consciousness is a simple declaration. One you’ve waited months to hear.

“I love you.”

“Y/n! Hurry up!”

The whine of Jimin’s voice is louder than any car, highway, hell— aeroplane you’ve ever heard, you’re sure of it. The grip of his hand around your own is like iron, tugging you along the worn trail path, trying to urge you faster than your feet will allow.

“I’m going! I’m goin!” You chide with him, giggle leaving your lips at his hurried nature. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the spider more excited. Maybe even more so than when he strokes the bite mark scarred into your shoulder– your permanent reminder that you are his and he is yours.

“Not fast enough!” He groans, head rolling back in annoyance, “The best spot is going to get taken!”

He’s told you about this spot time and time again– excitement palpable with every mention. A beautiful clearing back at the reserve, one that the trees shine perfectly through. The best spot for basking in the whole park, as well as for begging humans for snacks.

You smile at the thought. Following as close behind him as your feet will manage. Blanket and bags of food tight in your grip. After months of paperwork, he can finally return to this place without fear they’ll take you away from him. The mate licence in your wallet proof enough of it.

He finally gets to take you to the reserve– the place he called home for so long before he met you. The place where he first learned how to be a proper spider. The first place he learned to make friends. He’s most excited about the latter part, getting to show off his shiny new mate to all of his friends. The one he caught the human way.

He’s been talking about it for days, since you first brought up the idea of visiting. Of wanting to see where he lived before he met you. Prattling on and on about everything he’s going to show you, how he’s going to introduce you to Jungkook if he can. About the waterfall over the cove that you two can swim in without anyone finding out.

All of it is a dream come true for your little spider. Your mate.

You smile at the thought– how excited he is as he helps you set up the blanket on the ground. As he helps spread food all around you. Body jittery, head twitching at every little sound.

It’s clear he’s going a little crazy with joy. Entirely ecstatic to have you here with him. Sitting across from him on the ground in a way that almost mocks the picnic you had in his basement that night months ago.

Ah, sorry. Nuptial gift ceremony. He liked it a lot better when you called it that.

“Oh! And then, after we eat, I can introduce you to the head of the park! She’s Namjoon’s mate, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He talks to himself, chatting idly about nothing as he presses another strawberry to your lips. You eagerly take it, biting down on the fruit without a second thought.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Really? It must be difficult to confess to her, then.”

He nods his head, overexcited as he looks past you into the trees. Nose twitching as he tries to pick up a scent. Yellow tinted sunglasses high on his nose to block any light from hurting his delicate pupils.

You can’t help but think about how beautiful he is. How lucky you are to have him.

His hair has grown out since that fateful day months ago, blonde replaced by a deep blue that puts the night sky to shame. How his frame has bulked out ever so slightly. Pretty tan skin looking more healthy than ever. His head off in the clouds, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t pick you up and drag you off into the woods.

The human way is never easy for him.

“Mhmm… he’s trying but he isn’t very good at it. Doesn’t understand how humans like it to be done…” He mumbles.

“Hybrid’s do it different?”

“Yeah,” He seems a little lost in space, nose twitching harsher as he tries to recognise the exact scent he knows will be coming soon. Jungkook can never hold himself back from a picnic, no matter how far. He just wishes his nose was stronger.

“Hybrids just take their mate right away. Prove they’re a good mate and then it’s done. But human’s you have to teach.” Your shoulders drop slightly, and maybe if it wasn’t for the love you felt for him or the mate mark pressing against your neck, you would have understood the severity of his words. Of teaching a human, tricking them into making them fall.

“Oh…” You pout, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. None the wiser to the meaning behind his words, “I’m sorry… it must’ve been hard for you.”

He only shakes his head, “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to ever be scared.”

Suddenly, Jimin is standing. Eyes darting across the underbrush that surrounds the treeline. You follow his vision, squinting slightly to try and make out exactly what he is looking at when two antennae pop over the other side of a bush. Twitching, pointing in your direction. Hunting down food as they move closer.

The insect moves close, tilting his head as he finally moves within your line of vision. Mop of brown floppy hair on his head, wide bunny eyes. Twitching nose all the same. If it wasn’t for the lack of ears and black antennae jolting from his head, you would’ve thought he was a rodent.

“Kook!” Jimin’s voice is loud as he quickly run’s to meet the boy. The other looks just as excited, eyes lighting up with stars as his legs take off in the same direction. The two fall into a puddle of laughter and play fighting as they fall to the ground in greeting.

The infamous Jungkook, an ant hybrid– the biggest ant hybrid you’ve seen, mind you. Jimin’s best friend is finally revealed. And you have to say, seeing them together. Watching as your mate attempts to playfully tie him up silks has to be the prettiest sight you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my god, Min!” You laugh as Jimin struggles, the giant ant hybrid easily breaking free from the others strings. Instantly the attention is on you. Jimin leaning back to his heels, head thrown back as he whines.

“Shut up! He’s gotten stronger! My webs hold you good enough!” You continue to laugh, unaware of the ant sneaking closer. His antenna tickling your shoulder as he stares at the food in front of you. Begging for just a little taste to bring home to his colony, a little bit to make the queen happy.

You happily oblige, making room for the two of them to join you once again after their little scuffle. A reunion too cute to not try and remember forever. And just like that, conversation begins to flow easily between the three of you. Almost as if Jimin never left in the first place.

The two of them spend all afternoon catching up– Jimin reciting the story of how you two met, Jungkook opening up about the cute human that’s started to come by the park every saturday. Pulling his antennae down as he speaks, clearly embarrassed. Telling you all about how they met, about the reserve.

“Ah~ don’t mind him. Kookie’s just embarrassed cause he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Jimin teases, leaning over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. His arm tightly wrapped around your frame, holding you close. “Not every day that an ant hybrid has a mate outside of their colony, you know?”

“Hyung! Shut up!” He quickly whines, eyes shooting a subtle glare towards the other. Legs kicking slightly underneath his frame. “You… know what it means… especially cause she’s human…”

“I know.” His fangs shimmer as his hand reaches out to ruffle his hair, “Don’t worry. She’ll wanna be your queen in no time.”

You nod your head in agreement, picking up another piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. Nothing much to add to the conversation– you’ll never really understand the intricacy of hybrids and how they work. Especially those like Jungkook and Jimin.

Yet, you can’t help but feel at peace with that. At peace with them and this moment. Content with your life, content with your mate and the life you’ve built together. You hope that Jungkook can do the same with his own someday. Build a nice little colony or whatever it is that ants do.

“Mhmm, anyone would want someone as cute as you.” You smile, watching as the ant’s eyes go wide. Blush covering his cheek as he tries to pull his antenna down to cover them. Jimin instantly pounces on the other, starting a new round of play fighting. Laughing about having to defend his mates honour. That she isn’t allowed to look at any other hybrid. No one but him.

You giggle along with them, leaning back from your spot. Taking a mental picture of the scene in front of you. Jimin happy, playing. The sunset over the horizon as the three of you laugh in the woods. As Jimin no longer looks anything like that spider all those months ago.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe you did fall into his trap lined with silk. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even when you wake up in the middle of the woods. When you wake up in a cabin decorated in pretty webbing. When you come to find society is far behind you. When you discover no one else other than Jimin telling you that this is exactly what you asked for.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to ????? (yearners?) | fame au p5

p1 p2 p3 p4 interlude p6

Steve says he's flying out to New York for meetings. That’s what he tells everyone. That’s what he does. He's courteous, even lets Eddie know he’s in the city, that he can maybe, maybe stop by his place later.

But he doesn’t tell Eddie he’s coming to the show.

He gets there late, hangs at the very back of the venue, the nosebleed cheap seats. He’s in uniform, black jeans and scraggled tee. Bit of liner under his eyes, baseball hat and shitty prop wig he stole from set. It should be enough for most people to not look at him twice.

It’s the worst spot he’s ever had at one of Eddie’s gigs, but he couldn’t take the “I’m with the band" seats Eddie had offered him. Like he’s still some kind of accessory. Couldn’t take the c-list celebrity box seats either. Cause, well– he’s not supposed to be here.

Eddie’s a blip on the stage from where Steve’s standing, but it makes his idiotic traitorous heart swoop all the same. He’s only been on tour for a month. Steve wasn’t supposed to miss him this bad.

He’s really not supposed to be here.

Eddie's solo stuff has always been too wordy, too raw. Like he’s Dylan in the body of a metal star. It makes Steve's gut sore.

It’s mostly songs from his latest album, at least. Seemed like Eddie had a bad run in with benzos last year. Which also kinda makes his gut sore.

Eddie plays the hits. It's been years but the ones from "Penitence" cut like fresh wounds. The crowd goes wild for Dead Weight. But Pavlov's got the one-up on Steve. Those first three chords still make him want to crawl out of his skin.

It’s nearing the end now and Eddie drops the band, walks up to the front of the stage with just the spotlight on him. He’s holding Lucky, the old pawn-shop acoustic Wayne got him when he was twelve. He used to strum it between joints in the back of the van.

He’s– he’s nervous.

He coughs into the mic. “Hey uh, um, I've got something special for tonight. I don’t really do covers and uh, especially not ones that–” He cringes, grits his teeth, “Well, this isn’t exactly my sound.”

It was unsettling how nervous he was. Steve could fill journals full all of Eddie’s fuck-ups and flaws (and he has, many, many times.) But performing? That was undeniable, coded into his DNA. Eddie was a great performer. He was never nervous on stage.

Eddie's hands tremor at the tuning keys. “But uh, someone couldn’t make it tonight- a um, well. An old friend.”

Shit.

“–And he really used to really love this one.”

Shit shit shit shit.

“So, uh, yeah. Sing along if you know it.”

Steve knows it. One chord in and he knows it–

It’s Dave fucking Matthews. Eddie hates Dave Matthews. He's the total opposite of anything Eddie considered worthy art. His sound, his look, his ability to fill stadiums with every guy that wears sandals in a 50-mile radius, everything.

More importantly, Eddie’s fans hate Dave Matthews. If they don’t, they keep that close to their chest. Hell, not even– Steve spent enough of his early twenties bopping around dive bars with Eddie's crowds. They'd take that shit to their grave.

Eddie's already on thin ice with most of them.

Steve knows most of them resented the experimental sound of the new album, knows sales are low. He’s heard enough of Eddie's 3 AM pillow talk bitching about it.

There’s multiple audible groans. Someone in front of Steve whispers, “What the actual fuck.” in total disbelief.

But Steve doesn’t register it. Not really. Not over the blood rushing in his ears. Over the sound of Eddie crooning, “Who’s got their claws in you, my friend? Into your heart I’ll beat again."

Truth was, he hadn’t listened to that song, that whole album, in over a decade.

Steve would start up the car, like always and “So Much to Say” would play, like always. But there were no loud puking noises from the passenger seat, no pile of empty, over-dramatic threats. Just dust in the sunlight where someone had loved him, once.

And he couldn't stomach it.

He can't stomach it now. Eddie in front of 13,000 people. Shaky and vulnerable and too-himself for them all to bear witness.

It’s– fuck. Steve’s nineteen and the bimmer’s out of gas and Eddie’s cursing this song out, but his hand is under Steve's sweater and it's warm.

The third verse now and Eddie's crooning about forgiveness, about begging and haste and “Holding you so, boy.”

"Boy". Not "Girl". Unmistakable.

Steve wonders if anyone noticed. Eddie’s not out, not really. But he dedicated a love song to an old friend. Maybe he is now.

Then it’s all too much. Too big for him to hold. The love and hurt and longing and bullshit and near-two decades worth of sludge dredging up his throat and crashing down, pulling him under.

Steve doesn’t wait for the song to end. He keeps his head down and skips out before the encore.

[lives-in-midgard]

Wildest Dreams

(Musician AU Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: When you and your friend are spending time in a bar, you meet Steve Rogers which leads to an incredible and life changing offer.

Word Count: 1250

A/N: Hey! I'm so excited to share the first part of Bucky's musician AU with you. I hope you like it!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist | Musician AU

Almost everyone knows the famous band ‘The Midnight Rockers’. Founded in high school by Steve Rogers with his friends Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson and Clint Barton. At first, only a few people who attended their small gigs or who knew their YouTube videos listened to them. Until they were one day found by the music producer and manager Tony Stark. Now they are one of the most famous bands from all around the word.

Even though they have a lot of fans, there are still people who don’t know them or who hate their music. You’re one of those people who knows their songs, but you’ve never really been a big fan or followed their carrier.

Until one special day.

But to get to this day, the band had to go through a big change.

It all started when they went on tour earlier this year. Clint began to distance himself from the others and after three months he suddenly told the others that he wants to leave the band. Steve, Sam and Bucky were so confused and tried to talk to Clint, but his decision was final. The manager of the band was very angry, especially because it was during their tour. He decided that it would be the best to put the tour on hold until everything was sorted out.

So the band went back to New York, even though they would rather be on tour. It broke their hearts to upset their fans like that, but they hope to continue the tour soon. Steve suggested that the band could just stay with the three of them, but Tony insisted on finding a new band member.

It’s been two months since Clint left the band and they still haven’t found a new band member. It’s harder than Tony thought and it takes a lot of effort to find someone who fits into the band.

It was on a Saturday night when you and your best friend Kate decided to go to Romanoff’s bar. You enjoyed your time there and after a while Kate thought it would be fun to sing karaoke. You couldn’t resist, especially because you love to sing. Music has always been something very important in your life. It has always been one of your wildest dreams to be a singer and songwriter one day. You sang one of your favorite songs and had a lot of fun.

When you sat down at your table, you noticed a cute looking guy with blonde hair looking at you from across the room. He seemed somewhat familiar, but you didn’t know who it was. Suddenly he stood up from his chair and walked towards you.

“Omg, that’s Steve Rogers.” Kate said excited.

“You know him?” You asked not sure who he was.

“You’re joking, right?” She asked and you shook your head.

“This is Steve Rogers from the band ‘The Midnight Rockers’.” She explained and you finally knew where you must have seen him before.

“Hey ladies.” Steve said when he stood in front of your table.

“Hey.”

“I heard you sing and think that you have a really special voice. You probably know that my band is looking for a new band member, and I think you have the perfect voice for the band.”

“Really?” You asked, not sure if this was some kind of joke or if he was really serious.

“Yeah, definitely. I would like to invite you to a band rehearsal.”

“Wow, I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say yes.” Kate whispered next to you and Steve chuckled.

“You don’t have to decide now. I’ll give you my phone number so you can call me when you have thought about it.”

“Okay, that’s a good idea.” You said and handed him your phone so he could type his number in. When Steve was finished, he handed it back to you and you saved his name to your contacts. Then you said goodbye to each other and when he left, you couldn’t believe what just happened. Being a singer has always been your dream and now you’re one step closer to making your dream come true.

You thought about it for a few days and even though you weren’t sure if you should be in this band, especially if you would even fit in, you decided to call Steve and told him that you would like to meet the others. The thought of living your dream as a singer gave you butterflies, and you had to at least try it.

The day came, and you drove to the location Steve told you. You were nervous and a bit scared. Would the other band members even like you? What if you would embarrass yourself because of your nervousness? Those were the main thoughts running through your mind, but they all faded away when you parked your car there and took a deep breath.

When you knocked on the door, Steve opened it with a big smile and greeted you with a hug.

“You don’t have to be nervous.” Steve said because he probably noticed how you were feeling. He led you further into the room where two other guys were. One was sitting at the drums and the other one had a guitar.

“Guys, that’s y/n.” Steve said, and they both looked at you.

“Y/n, this is Sam and Bucky.” He said, pointing at them. When you saw Bucky, you froze.

“You?” You both said at the same time.

This is your upstairs neighbor, Bucky Barnes.

The neighbor who once played his guitar so loud in the middle of the night that you had to knock on his door and asked him to be quiet.

Then he promised you not to play at night anymore.

Bucky started playing in the afternoon, and you listened to him from your balcony.

This was the highlight of your day until one day he suddenly disappeared.

You missed hearing him sing and seeing him on the hallway.

Now he’s back, and it turns out he is in the band ‘The Midnight Rockers’.

“You know each other?” Steve asked and Bucky nodded with a slight smile.

You talked with them for a while and told them that you still weren’t sure if you fit into the band. After a while they decided to try to sing a song with you. Before it was your part to sing, you looked over to Bucky who was playing the guitar. When he noticed that you were looking at him, he gave you a comforting smile. When you began to sing his smile got bigger.

“Wow, your voice is really special.” Bucky said and you began to blush.

“And it fits good with ours.” Sam said and Steve nodded.

“So, what do you say…would you like to be in our band?” Steve asked and you hesitated for a second before saying yes.

“Okay, that’s great, then we call our manager.” You stayed for a few more minutes before you decided to leave. When you went outside you smiled and were really happy to be in the band and you’re curious to see what’s going to happen next.

“Are you sure she’s the right person for the band?” You suddenly heard Bucky ask, but you couldn’t really understand what Steve or Sam were saying.

Why did he ask that? You thought he would like to have you in the band? Just like Steve and Sam? But looks like he doesn’t want you in the band.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @buckys-wintersoldier | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @sgtgarricks | @ratchildspartan | @scott-loki-barnes |  @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 | @mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @brnesblogposts

@beaubbdoll

[glitchinginthegarden]

12 & 13? :0

-> choose violence ask game

yess more of these asks! thank you!

12 is actually over -> here

13. worst blorboficiation

Oof. Uh well. Johnny is on there for sure, and I know I'm personally guilty of softening him up like butter in a microwave for AU purposes. But I feel like Johnny is a cop-out answer here.

Truthfully I have a laundry list to fit this prompt but, and I'm so sorry, I'm gonna go with Kerry.

Kerry gets crammed into this UwU-ified image of some tortured, pink-flamboyant, very fem, rocker and he's just not that (in my opinion). Is he troubled af? Yes, without a doubt. But when you really look deep down, he and Johnny are two peas in a pod. Just different flavors of fucked up asshole.

Kerry isn't out there, lollipop in hand, and dolled up like a purse chihuahua. He's showering with his gun, drinking all day, blowing up vans and trying to decide if it's better or worse for his press if he offs the Us Cracks girls.

Now, I'm not saying that UwU and chaotic violence can't hold hands, but I keep seeing him boiled down to some semblance of a washed up housewife and it grinds my gears. It gives....folks who forget where the punk scene started and how it looked and that rockerboys in Cyberpunk are very much "showy"/"flashy"/"done up" in appearance. It's the style and it doesn't automatically make them more fem or less masc or whatever terminology you wanna use. If we read the source material, Johnny's in-game appearance is bland as dried scop for a rockerboy.

So yeah... Kerry deserves to be preserved as his own special flavor of grungy, rockerboy asshole. Because he is. And I love him for that.

[yuesya]

You wrote in the Box Swap AU, canon jujutsu team is promptly horrified that instead of Gojo Satoru, they get an utterly unknown wisp of a girl who looks like Gojo Satoru but whom is not Gojo Satoru. They are, in fact, devastated. Their sole hope of defeating Sukuna and Kenjaku, just like that, trampled beneath the remains of Prison Realm. It must be a horrid joke of the universe. Their world is just doomed. (Meanwhile Kenjaku is over the moon.)

HOWEVER THIS MADE ME THINK!!!!

What is the Zenith jujutsu kaisen world thinking in this Box Swap AU?

Like, they know who Shiki is. They know she's terrifying, frightening, deadly, a sorcerer second only to Gojo Satoru. The rumoured Heir. The child who could kill special grades without collateral damage. The blade of the Honoured One. The holder of eyes similar to the Six Eyes. The Blessed Child.

They would be thrilled to have their blessed child back and ready to stab a few special grade curses.

Imagine going through all that effort of trying to get this Blessed Child out of the box (gods please let's just get shiki out of that seal, they really do need shiki to deal with their problems and she makes everything easier, but main reason is that gojo satoru is fucking insufferable) because while they do have Gojo Satoru, it's just not the same. Also, Shiki doesn't make them pay for collateral damage as much as Satoru does /j

They open the box, with full expectation of getting back Gojo Shiki and putting an end to their suffering of enduring a prissy, passive-aggressive Gojo Satoru whose off his rockers because his cousin is imprisoned (ok, they're all pretty mad too) and to get back one of their trump cards in the battle against Kenjaku and Sukuna.

Instead, they get another Gojo Satoru.

Zenith JJK: ...

Zenith JJK: wtf is this bullshit

-----

In short, it could be summed up like this:

Canon JJK is horrified they don't get Gojo Satoru.

Zenith JJK is horrified they don't get Gojo Shiki.

I thought it would be funny if both sides are similarly devastated they aren't getting what they wanted.

That's pretty much exactly what's going on in the box swap AU! Canon-Kenjaku is probably over the moon right up until the point Shiki pulls out a sword and starts killing things.

On the other side, the cast in zenith-verse is probably just about ready to throttle Gojo Satoru ("Why did we get another one of you? Where's Shiki??").

[thelargefrye]

rocker! ateez or idol! ateez reacting to sexy or any edit of yn from tiktok pls !!

[ REACTION ] —— the boys are on tiktok when they come across an edit of you

pairing : poly!rocker!ateez x rocker!f!reader genre : reaction, rocker au warnings : language

tag list : @kangskims @watamotee33 @seungcheolswife

HONGJOONG … tiktok inspiration

hongjoong was just casually scrolling when that video popped up. of course he remember that little fansign and thought it was funny how the nine of you gave one fan each a special spotlight. but he honestly didn’t know that yours was so popular until more recently.

this was probably his favorite edit from that fansign due to how you move so well to the beat of the song. he always did like seeing edits of you and the others and sometimes when he liked them, he would find himself saving them to phone if he could.

SEONGHWA … tiktok inspiration ( slight flashing )

when the video appeared on his fyp, he was originally going to ignore it. however when he seen your name tagged, he decided to see it would go.

seonghwa was definitely not disappointed and found himself agreeing that yes god is a woman and that woman is you. he also found himself watching the tiktok three more times which would eventually catch your attention as you sat not to far away from him.

“what are you watching?” you asked getting up and sitting down next to him. your body pressed closely to his.

“a tiktok edit saying you’re god.”

“oh, okay, cool.”

YUNHO … tiktok inspiration

yunho was immediately in love with the edit. first off he thought the song fitted you so well especially with that outfit. second, that is one of his favorite outfits of yours from the group’s first tour.

maroon leather definitely suits you, he was sure of it. yunho, much like hongjoong, would watch the edit a few more times before finally just saving it and moving on. the next time you all performed, yunho made sure to request the stylist to give you a similar outfit. you know… just for throwback purposes.

YEOSANG … tiktok inspiration

yeosang was always mesmerized by you when you were in the zone of performing. if anything your eyes were what mesmerized him the most especially in this edit. he thought the sound matched it very well and he found himself watching it a few more times until san had come into room.

san immediately saw the tiktok and began teasing yeosang for watching edits of you. however yeosang was quick to defend himself, saying that it just popped up on his fyp. of course san didn’t believe it and continued to tease him before you had come into the room, dragging san away.

yeosang could only let out a sigh of relief before he found himself watching a few more of your edits.

SAN … tiktok inspiration ( slight flashing )

after having seen yeosang watching a few of your edits, san went down his own rabbit hole on tiktok. he found himself watching several different edits of you before this particular one came up.

he remembers this outfit very well, especially since him and the others had matching black leather outfits. all nine of you going for a rocker-cowboy aesthetic.

he also definitely agreed with the caption of the edit and was glad fans were starting to appreciate your stage presence more. especially since you’ve been growing more and more confident on stage in the past few years.

MINGI … tiktok inspiration

“yeah she’s definitely not,” he says to himself as he watches the edit before letting it replay as he admired you performing on stage. mingi definitely couldn’t get over the smirk you had at the beginning and wondered how often you did that on stage.

of course the next time you all performed, he let his eyes wonders to you and sure enough he saw you smirking as you sang. his mind wandered back to the edit which made himself smirk before he stuck his tongue out. his own action causing several fans nearby to scream in response.

WOOYOUNG … tiktok inspiration

wooyoung was immediately in love with the edit. he definitely thought the song fit you and would even show it to you. he would even go as far as to start quoting it whenever he seen you getting ready for a show or when you all were doing soundcheck.

“hey, y/n, what’s on your face?”

“hmmm… maybe beauty.”

“hell yeah it is, pretty!”

JONGHO … tiktok inspiration

when this edit popped up on his fyp he was given immediate flashbacks to this airport outfit. he thought you looked cute and knew the others did to.

it wasn’t very often when you did silly stuff in front of fans, much less at an airport. which is why he’s glad this edit came up. jongho immediately saved the tiktok and sent it to the group chat asking “who remembers this sexy outfit?”

the group chat then immediately blew up, mostly by wooyoung, with spams of hearts and memes. jongho felt like his job at causing some chaos was done.

[writer-reader-skater]

Skates that I think the modern AU characters would used based on vibes alone

and a little bit of canon

Tech: Riedell Aria 3030

Grew up using Edeas but once Lux convinced him to try Riedells he never went back. Very picky, keeps his boots polished and gets very upset when he accidentally gashes the leather. Replaced them every season, on the dot. His blades have his nickname etched in them because it’s never used on competition. Refuses to let anyone but Crosshair sharpen the blades and has the slightest of pronation on his dominant left foot. Started with Pattern 99s but they were too wide for him and he looked like a newborn foal trying to skate.

Crosshair: Edea Pianos and MK Pro revolutions

Baby boy needs that narrow foot and extra ankle support. Tells people to deal with him mixing brands. Doesn’t jump, like ever, but if he needed to he is a toothpick and would not manage to get off the ground if he tried anything with non revolution blades. Still almost floats away though. Hardest thing he does is keep up with Tech. Ironically, doesn’t sharpen his blades like ever despite being the resident sharpener (then complains when he can’t do anything).

Fives- Jackson premier fusion 

Thinks it’s absolutely hilarious that his boots have a stiffness rating of 69. Hasn’t replaced his boots no matter how much Lux and Tech tell him to. These bad boys are held together by duct tape and a prayer. It’s no wonder he hasn’t landed a double axel yet. Stubborn as hell. Secretly wishes they had pretty gemstones like Edea. Has no idea what blades he has and that may be part of the problem, but at least they’re blue. 

Lux- Aria 3030s and Pattern 99s

Same model as Tech. Refuses to be in the same vicinity as Edea, calls them overpriced pieces of leather but admits the gemstones are kind of cool. Swiss to the core (Riedells are a Swiss brand). Has his old pair mounted like a trophy because it’s the pair he landed his first quad jump in. Has to replace boots every 9 months because he can’t stand the slightest crease in the tongue and says it affects how he lands (Fives says ‘skill issue’). It’s a good thing he’s sponsored.  Also has his name engraved on them because most international competitors do.

Tup- Jackson Debuts and Riedell Eclipse blades

Absolutely DESPISES high cut boots. Technically these are dance boots but he couldn't care less. Has special skate covers to prevent smudges because he’s a diva. Begged for the Riedell selene blades because of how pretty they are, and stubbornly insists he will still be able to do everything. All about the aesthetic

Omega- Edea ice flys, legacy 8 blades

Saw the amount of gemstones and decided there wasn’t enough. Now there are RAINBOW gemstones. Keeps all her old skates because they are masterpieces. Outgrows them like no one’s business and is praying for the day she can upgrade to pianos, then she will have MORE room for gemstones. Legacy 8 blades because she is babey and needs more muscle before she can get anything heavier. Once she’s at an 8 foot rocker she will be unstoppable.

[empressgeekt]

you know what would be a interesting au

the events of burning branches happen except the wedding proposal letter happens like a day or two before the Biggest loudest Crazies party ever

Well, if Char were around during the party attack, he would not be alone. They're would be Rockers around and I think they would take the Chef down, and help relocate the Pop tribe to a closer forest area to Rock territory.

However if She did get away with the snack-pack, Char would follow Poppy because it's clear she has ZERO survival skills. During the journey they learn a lot about each other.

"I really don't understand why you're so against hug time."

"It's because it feels insincere. Like Hugs should be something special, when someone needs it. Not scheduled. And I'm not used to strangers touching me."

"*gasp* you don't hug your' friends! That's so sad!"

"What? no. I hug my friends but it's not one the hour, and my friends aren't just random people in the streets."

"You aren't friends with everyone in your village?"

"I can't. There's over 5000 people just in the main city alone. Too many to know personally and get stuff done."

"But you do you take care of them if you don't know them?"

"Majority vote."

"But wouldn't that mean that some of them won't be happy with the plan."

"Yeah, the needs of the many out weight the needs of the few."

"Could you just find a way to make them all happy."

"Sometimes, but in some cases you can't. Why are you so concerned with how happy they are anyway."

"Uhm duh! That's the job of the king or Queen, keeping the people happy! Is that not how it works for Rock trolls?"

"No, the crown's job is to keep people safe, secure and stable."

"So, was Creek right and you guys can't feel happy?"

"We can feel happy, it's just we have other things to worry about over our next thrill trip, and don't trust anything Creek says about us. If you have questions about MY culture you can ask me, and not the guy who calls us barbarians."

"Creek was just joking when he called you that!"

"You mean racism to you is joking around. You're lucky it wasn't Val who over heard that."

"It's not racism!"

"Poppy! he's been calling our traditions and beliefs, savage and backwards. How would you like it if someone some tried to tell you you're music and holidays suck and you should practice there holidays! You know it was exactly this that led to the Great string war."

"String war? They fought over he strings? Dad told me that all the tribe went their separate ways amicably."

"OH...my ozzy..."

It's a very enlightening trip.

Char is fighting an odd buzzy migraine from the moment of they enter Bergentown. He mutters a prayer to Ozzy when they watch Creek get "eaten", Char may not like the guy, but no one deserves that fate. And he pities Bridget for the mistreatment she has but he has trolls to free. His future wife continues to baffle him, with the belief that Creek was still alive and then making a deal with bridget, and that that deal sends his headcahe over the edge.

Poppy is too happy befriending Bridget to notice Char's state until Bridget asks if someone was wrong with him. When Poppy turns to to find Char passed out on the ground twitching, she's panicking. Was he sick? Was this normal for Rock trolls?

During the fit Char sees the Chef grab a elder troll with mint colored hair while the feeling of falling over took his body. He was grateful the seizure was a quick one, since Poppy looked really freaked out once his vision cleared. He shows his scar and explains the head wound, and seizure condition. They let him take a short nap while they get Bridget ready since they were worried for him.

Poppy and Bridget would gossip about boys, Poppy wanting to know all the details about Bridget's love for the Bergen king while they get her ready. Poppy tells her about how Char is her fiance, and Bridget wants to know all about that. "So, he came across the world to marry you and save his people? he sounds very brave." "Yea...I guess he is."

When Creek's betrayal happens, He tells the chef all about the Rock tribe, and Char threatens to kill him!

At the end, Barb and the other Rock trolls barge in to save everyone...right after peace is made.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Okay- hi- I'm back! Well, I never left but either wait- I'm back!

So a little fact about me: my favorite band is Twenty One Pilots, they are some of the sweetest boys ever.

Why am I telling you this? I have a reason, don't worry!

Their on tour atm and my tiktok has been littered with amazing videos of them. Specially of Josh, who's the drummer.

Now, I love rocker Adam as much as the next person, but when I watch this video of Josh on the drums, I can't help but wonder what drummer!Adam would look like?

I guess this could be a TwentyOnePilots!au, maybe Lucifer as the singer (who's name is Tyler, he's fantastic) and Adam as Josh.

Obviously it'll be an adamsapple thing but believe it or not, I don't ship Tyler and Josh, their such amazing best friends and I really want to see Adam and Lucifer have that kind of relationship- on stage anyway.

Behind the scenes they can be adorable and all over each other.

So I'm linking a video of Josh just drumming his fucking heart out- I hope you have tiktok so you can see it, if not I'm sure I can would out a way to send it to you.

And just picture Josh as Adam, and I'm sure you'll reach the Heavens like I did.

Okay- bye!

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS24BhJo3/

Even though I see Adam as more as a guitar guy, I could also see him being passionate about the drums as well. Him rocking out like that because he just loves music!

You have me intrigued for this!

[blizzardfluffykpop]

2024 Writer’s Wrapped

Thank you so much for tagging me @sungbeam in this cute little wrap-up! And here is where you can find Beam's wrapped!

This took me hours to make for some reason? Idk. So- I will not be making divider images 🫣😔 But my 2024 Masterlist came in absolute clutch. I def would have forgotten a fic or two if not for it.

Tagging (if you wish to ofc!): @prettywordsyouleft @proudahgase-exol @amelee23 @uhhkpop & anyone else who wishes to do this! These are just the first couple of people that came to mind!

( @jinkoh ik you've already been tagged by Beam- but you were involved in many of the fics below so voilà)

Anyways, last chance to escape me rambling on about my fanfics.

First Fic of 2024: 

Lover Boy (Hui X Reader)

Published on January 16th, 2024. 

I was recovering with my fanfic winter story au- when Hui announced that his debut album was coming out. As a Hui bias- I was living on that high- and this fic would come out the day Hui’s comeback was released. It was inspired by his ‘Whui Is Me’ Concept #3 & #4 (rocker/crooner concept) and was originally inspired by Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen. 

Last Fic: 

Confession (Chanhee (New) X Reader)

Posted today - December 27th, 2024. 

While my friend did donate the idea- I completed it like weeks later- in shambles over him. I didn’t get any Chanhee requests, and since purchasing his (& kyu’s) fromm (after having their bubbles). I’ve been a disaster- a muddled mess over this guy. I was so in my feelings writing this…

Longest fic: 

Partners (Younghoon X Reader) with 5,582 words.

One of two the mafia aus I wrote this year. This is also my first tbz fanfic. This idea came long before The Grims but their ideas both came from The Convoyz. This fic in parts is sad, and it’s very angsty but it’s also a story of two lovers who would go to the end of the earth for each other and god I could have written so much more, but it needed to end at some point for the sake of my health. (Special thanks to Kebbi for putting this idea into my mind) 

Longest Winter fic: A Creepmas Party (Changmin X Reader) with 3,061 words. (This fic came from a halloween nightmare turned dream- but was toned down for the season) 

[Just for fun I’m including my longest fic of all time- from last year- at 40,163 words: Bedroom Talks (Changkyun X Reader)]

Most Popular fic for 2024: 

Under the Glow of Candlelight (Juyeon X Fem! Reader) currently has 121 notes.

This is such a tame fic, considering early that month I had written what I had considered my “dirtiest” fic Blackout earlier that month. But god, genuinely I’m such a slow & soft Juyeon enthusiast. And I just ran with it. I can’t remember writing tbh, but I remember rereading it throughout the process and just being *melted* over it. So, knowing that others felt that way with this fic makes me genuinely happy. 

Most Popular winter fic: Warm (Sunwoo X Reader) currently 34 notes. 

Personal Pick:

Wish You Were Here (Changmin X Reader) 

My personal comfort kyu fic since seeing them perform in nyc. I couldn’t bring myself to write a Vienna fic for him. But Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd was as close as I could get. This song played in my head for days after trying to write a fic for them- it finally clicked. And now, whenever I’m driving, and I hear this song it takes me back to this fic and to nyc for that briefest moment. And yeah, it means a lot to me even if it's just a drabble. 

My favorite smut I’ve written is Scared? & My favorite winter fic was either Missing You or Xmas Movies. 

Total fics written:

27 reg. fics + 15 winter fics = 42 fics in total (TBZ alone has 39 fics)

I separated these for the simple fact that I consider my winter writings in a different aspect of myself. That prolly doesn’t make sense. But yeah- they just operate on two different time basis needs. Reg fics can be done whenever. While winter fics have a deadline and I consider the me that writes them a different breed bhebhea. Also thought the Tbz statistic was quite fun, considering that means I dedicated basically my whole writing blog to them bhebhea. Outside of three, Hui^, Hyungwon, and Kihyun fics- it was a tbz writing year. 

Total Words Written:

64,721 reg. fics + 24,036 winter fics = 88,757 words in total

Honestly, a little less words than I was expecting but I wrote more fics under 1k this year than any year before. And I’m quite content with it. 

Top Artists Muses: 

Kim Younghoon

At the beginning of the year he was my muse, he got ~5k fics back-to-back. As stated before- he is also the first tbz member I wrote a fic for. He’d get a total of six fic this year. Which are: Partners [Mafia au], Broken Belts [Mechanic au], Puzzle Pieces, Little Surprises, First Snowman Together❄️, and Dancing & Laughter❄️

Ji Changmin

I think this one is obvious (considering my new icon & header image)- but once he took over the ult spot- it brought madness upon me. There are eight fics about him, and like 3+ drafts… (he doesn’t leave me alone). Anyways his eight published fics are: Just a Bad Dream [Drabble], Scared? [Smut], Playing Strangers [Smut], Wish You Were Here [Drabble], Xmas Movies❄️, Blizzards ❄️, Christmassy?→❄️, and A Creepmas Party [Suggestive + Vampire au]❄️

Kim Sunwoo

I may not bias him- but oh boy- I love writing fics for him. Mostly because his personality reminds me a bit of my teenage self. And so, it’s very fun to heal my inner teenager writing about him~ He garnered five fics! Which are: Run Away, Saturday Night [Smut], Duty Calls [Smut + Android au], Warm❄️, Baking Cookies❄️

In Conclusion: 

This has probably been my happiest year writing since I last actively wrote for Got7. While I’ve wanted to write for tbz in the past- this year because of the release of babydoll- writing for tbz came into fruition. Deobis remind me sm of ahgases with how kind and welcoming everyone is. It literally makes me feel so nice writing for my newest ult group. Honestly, I didn’t expect how quickly they would take over my whole life. I was so content just waiting for Mx to return and/or adding Svt(or ptg) to the full ult chair again. After all, I had just watched svt's concert in a theater & Hui had released his comeback. But once Hui’s album promo concluded- Tbz was right there- and it was history. I seriously wrote 3 other fics outside of them (93% of my fics were tbz 🫣). This has been a red-letter year for getting all my winter fics queued the night/morning before they were "due". And I finally decided to take smut requests~  Anyways, while I have many ideas for future fics (ex: Playing Killer! Hyunjae, Babydoll Line Poly au line, and possibly posting the alt. poly au ending for Blizzards) But- that comes with a stipulation. I’m entering a new job that’s more mentally taxing than physical. So, it may affect the number of fics I write...  😔 But as always quality over quantity~ So, we will see!

Thank you to everyone who has requested this year. And to all the new mutuals I made! Anyways, love you guys! Thank you so much for everything 🥰💖

[saiyansweetheart45]

Ideas for the Coffee Shop AU

Hey, everyone! Later this month and throughout December, I'll be releasing the first chapters of my newest story idea! But for now, here's the layout for this lovely (if I do say so myself) new idea. I hope you all enjoy reading as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

The Full Moon Brew Coffee Shop is more than just a place to get a cup of coffee. It’s a haven that offers a break from the day-to-day chaos in the city of Calatonia, presided over by one Koala Connoisseur, Buster Moon, a coffee enthusiast as well as a master showman. The Full Moon Brew is a nook of coziness and even creativity. With the air teeming with coffee and creative encouragement, it’s no wonder the place hosts such an eclectic bunch.

Up and coming rocker Ash goes there at least twice a week to get her caffeine fix, but also likes the atmosphere because it helps inspire her songwriting.

Sweet-obsessed and sass-filled Nooshy likes to busk down the road (before meeting the rest of the gang) for extra pocket money to afford her cream and sugar-loaded coffees. And it combines the two things she loves: dancing and coffee. She also enters the occasional contest held at the shop.

Then there’s introverted British newcomer Johnny who spends anywhere from half an hour to sometimes even half the day, at the place, ordering at least three cups of coffee, all while reading or writing songs as well. It’s like a haven in the new city he's moved with his family to following his dad and uncle’s being transferred for a job. Occasionally, on their lunch break, the three older gorillas stop in to get a little bite of the pastries the place offers and of course an espresso-loaded cup or two. Each. They don’t ever stick around long, but they can see why the youngest member of their clan loves the place so much.

Then, we have the equally shy Meena, whose small family business supplies the baked goods to the coffee shop, and Meena occasionally visits both to subtly network for her family’s business, and to try to become more social, since coffee shops are great for being both social and withdrawn. And she loves their smoothies, and is trying to acquire a taste for coffee, but can’t quite do it.

Enter Rosita, the on-the-go mother that does it all, but always makes some time to get a little pick-me-up for herself and do a bit of work to help her husband, for whom she always orders a special cappuccino before she heads to pick up their extensive brood of piglets.

The tea-loving theater legend Nana Noodleman happens to be one of the top investors for Buster’s shop. The place is small but makes a pretty profit, what with having fresh, homemade treats, along with beverages one can’t get just anywhere. And Buster always makes sure to keep a steady supply of fine teas at the ready for Nana. She even has a special table with a high-backed purple velvet chair by the window just beside the patio overlooking the ocean.

The excitable bundle of Piggy Power Gunter occasionally visits the shop, drawn by the musical selection and the open mic nights. Though by his own admission, he comes less for the singing and more for the dancing. And of course, a caffeine fix here and there is needed for such dedicated dancing.

Another new kid enters. Meet Ryan Collins, a student in a nearby dance academy, who happens upon the coffee shop by complete coincidence. He finds that while he doesn’t much care for coffee, he enjoys the chill atmosphere, a welcome reprieve after his hectic classes under the iron fist of Klaus Kickenklober. Plus, who doesn’t occasionally love a Toasted Vanilla or Hazelnut Steamer?

Two new faces also enter this colorful Coffee shop mix, we have the two rich kids Eddie and Porsha, both of whom are working their first jobs ever under the watchful eye of Miss Crawly. Don’t let her age and dottiness fool you, the old Lizard Lady is a brewing MASTER.

Both prove straight away to be a bit…unskilled to say the least, but they slowly start to adapt, with Porsha even scoring huge brownie points when she creates a new drink for the menu.

And finally, the dutiful, efficient, and long-suffering Suki Lane occasionally stops by the shop to get coffee for herself, but also (reluctantly) for her image-obsessed boss who doesn’t like coffee but is quick to associate himself when the little shop starts to gain more attention.

Suki herself may not particularly like Buster, but she does like the coffee. And she does secretly loathe Crystal's dismissal of it. And dismiss it he does. At least until it starts to gain more popularity, at which point he tries to buy it out. But that meeting goes as well as you'd expect.

This version of Buster has a few slightly different traits; poised, knows his worth, and won't sell himself out for a few beans. He knows why Crystal wants the business and is having none of it. First off, because he knows the price Crystal offered is insulting given the profit the place brings in. Second, and more importantly, because his father bought the property, had the building built with his own money, and personally let Buster design the place, the menu, everything. This place is a symbol of everything his dad worked for and gave him. All the while the man was hiding a terminal illness. This last project was a distraction from the inevitable. And Buster will NOT trivialize that sacrifice.

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to ??? | slightly nsfw under the cut | fame au p3 |

p1 p2 p4 p5 interlude p6

Steve’s presented at award shows countless times. He’s good at it. He’s funny, he’s charming. But usually, he didn’t want to strangle the guy standing next to him. Usually, the guy hadn't been pawing at his dick ten minutes before.

But he gets through it. 'Cause he’s a professional.

He is aware. Aware that the tension stifling the room isn’t exactly appropriate for the Animated Feature Film category.

Aware that he did, in fact, tear Eddie’s (uninsured) silk shirt.

Aware that, despite a scurry of last-second HMU efforts, his perfect hair looks insane.

Aware that this is a live broadcast. Aware that anyone with eyes could look at the state of both of them and probably only come up with 3 feasible conclusions. Aware that unlike the photo, this is pretty fucking incriminating.

But he gets through it. Cause he’s a professional.

Eddie's being punchably smug about it, of course. Emerged from the bathroom, pupils blown, eye glitter smudged, lips swollen, and “Ready for his close-up!”

He didn’t even talk to Steve after they were escorted off stage. Just slipped a note in his pocket.

Skip the afterparty?

Skip the afterparty. Who does he think he is? Steve’s expected to show face. His team needs him to show face. They have another suit prepared and everything. He gets it's a foreign concept to Eddie, but people actually rely on him.

Fuck him. Steve can’t just skip the afterparty.

He skips the afterparty.

He ignores the 40 frantic texts from Robin.

He gets his car to drive him to Los Feliz.

It's just the same as 5 years ago, but all reverse. The deja vu is making him woozy, making him sick. Same place he was five years ago but no one's here for apologies.

This time it's a knock at Eddie's door.

Stupid and hollow and idiotic. Steve’s still in his ugly velvet suit. The door swings open. Eddie’s changed. Showered. Hair damp and frizzy. Liner and stage glitter staining his under eyes. He looks soft under the yellow porch light.

There’s a moment, a millisecond where Steve knows he could turn around. Slam the door in Eddie’s face and pretend this never happened.

But he's all red inside, all forward momentum and frustration and anger.

“I still fucking hate you.”

Eddie offers him a sad smile. “I know.”

And then the door is shut behind him and Eddie’s got him against the wall and Steve’s tongue is back where it belongs. Where it’s always belonged. He wants Eddie to choke on it.

Eddie’s grinning, glassy-eyed worship, panting into his mouth, “Missed this.”

Nope.

Steve needs be miles away from whatever the fuck that is. So he gnashes Eddie's lip between his teeth. It's hard enough to draw blood. He needs him as red as he feels.

“Fuck you.”

In the hallway drag to the bedroom, he’s all destruction. Wants to knock down everything in sight. Wants to shove Eddie into his stupid platinum records and his stupid ten thousand dollar guitars. He wants fire and earthquakes. He wants Eddie split in half.

Eddie hasn’t gotten the memo, apparently. Keeps a cool laugh through the whole thing, laughs when Steve pushes him against some hideous credenza (a fucking credenza, the Eddie he knew would’ve throttled himself.) Laughs when some marble thing gets swatted to the floor like Steve’s a particularly bratty housecat.

“Damn. Really got you revved up, huh?” Eddie’s grinning at him like this whole thing is some kind of fucking joke. They’ve made it to the bedroom, finally.

Steve bites bruises at his neck. “Do you ever shut the hell up?”

“Nah, kinda my speciality, Ha–”

He pushes the heel of his palm into Eddie’s crotch. “You’re pathetic.”

“Yeah?” It’s a whine.

“So fucking pathetic.” And then Steve’s on his knees.

He gets lost in it. Just like he used to. He never does anymore. He’s still a bit drunk but he feels all heady like he’s taken the wrong pills. Feels wired too, like he drank three red eyes. Feels a lot of things.

It’s all the same and it’s all so different. Their bodies are different. Soft in places they once were hard. Hard in places they once were soft. They’re not old yet, not really, not at all. But they’re not teenagers anymore.

It’s like he can’t find the ground anywhere– Eddie’s hands on him, Eddie’s skin on him. Bare and rough and different and so familiar it whips the air out of his lungs. Eddie knowing just what works, knowing how to touch him better than anyone. Knowing him better than he knows himself.

He feels cursed. He feels ruined.

And when Eddie finally fucks into him, on that gaudy four-poster bed, a mess of sweat and sheets and glitter, he can’t help the part of him screaming home home home home.

Eddie lights a cigarette when it’s over. Offers one to Steve but he quit years ago. Not that he would know.

Steve says, “You've got to stop that shit, man. It’s gonna kill you.”

And Eddie does that stupid sad smile again. “I’d deserve it, wouldn’t I?”

So Steve finds as many pieces of his suit as he can. Hopes to god Tom Ford doesn’t like, sue him for losing it. Hightails it to the front door. He’s not interested in small talk. Not interested in throwing this asshole another pity party.

Eddie follows him out, leans against the door frame, easy and sad and stupid handsome and Steve hates him nearly as much as he hates himself. “Will I see you again, Harrington?”

Steve can't let him have this. Can't let him win after all this time.

“Don’t count on it.”

[paulagnewart]

Sonic the Oz-Hog Act 4/12: Knux Readux!

Knuckles the Echidna Volume 2 issue 1 AU Publication Date: 14th April 1997 Price: $2.70

Spinoffs. No self-respecting media can live with them. No self-aggrandising media can live without them. And for those of us who lived through the space year that was 1997, corporations were chomping at the bit for a slice of those sweet spinoff dollarydoos.

Best place to start and witness such influence would be, arguably, the cinema. After Baz Luhrmann's blockbuster remake Romeo + Juliet spent weeks atop the box office, the majority of March was a bitter struggle between Wes Craven's thriller Scream and Cameron Crowe's football drama Jerry Maguire. A fascinating if ultimately pointless grudge match between two distinct genres. For all their efforts, neither claimed victory when by month's end, a film 20 years their senior blasted both off the map. The Star Wars Special Editions had arrived.

The promotion (and merchandise deals) was huge. A New Hope proved an instant hit, swiftly followed on 10th April by The Empire Strikes Back. Everything old was new again, and the re-hits just kept coming. Audiences pounded the pavements, eager to revisit Jurassic Park when its sequel The Lost World saw release on 29th May (only a week after its US premiere, a then-impressive feat). Superhero buffs ignored the winter freeze to watch Batman and Robin on 26th June, a film often lauded yet pulled respectable numbers and local reviews at the time.

Speaking of space, following a successful campaign through latter 1996, the Oddbodz were back. Smith's Chips and Glow Zone launched their second series of 61 collectable glow-in-the-dark cards featuring a myriad of wacky, wicked and occasionally controversial space-themed characters. If gross-out humour wasn't your speed, ripping into packs of Thins, Ruffles, Cheetos or Doritos chips instead offered adventures in a galaxy far far away with official Star Wars 3D Magic Motion and Techno Tazos.

After the toyline's initial launch in January, Beast Wars had successfully put Transformers back on the map, though kids would have to wait at least three more months to see their favourite characters in animated action. To Channel 7's credit, they at least gave the program a decent timeslot. More than can be said for Channel 9's decision that April to broadcast the all-new Star Trek: Voyager season 2 and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine season 4 at the ghastly time of 11pm weeknights.

In spite of the former losing 30 minutes off its timeslot, the rivalry between weekday morning children's entertainment continued between Agro's Cartoon Connection and Cheez TV. Both were banking on the spinoff craze, and viewers waking up 14th April could choose between the premiere of Power Rangers Zeo episode 'Oily to Bed, Oily to Rise', or the premiere of Earthworm Jim episode 'Darwin's Nightmare'. For the musically inclined, American rockers No Doubt had enjoyed 8 weeks atop the music charts with the third single on their third album, 'Don't Speak'. At least until April saw them bumped off by Aussie pop prodigy Savage Garden and their third single 'Truly Madly Deeply'.

But of all the spinoffs to arise and bedazzle locals, after three years of development and an exclusive preview party the night prior, SEGA World Sydney opened its doors at 4pm on Saturday 22nd March 1997. Touted in print and on TV as "Australia's Largest Indoor Theme Park!", it offered hours of unrivalled entertainment and programs for Sydneysiders and visitors alike. Anyone who could afford its hefty entry fee lost themselves in all the games and rides they could handle (except Mortal Kombat, which was pulled last-minute). An escape into pixilated fantasy guaranteed to forget their real-world troubles for several hours. Mundane adult things like Victoria and Western Australia's brief yet brutal summer bushfire seasons where 3 lives and some 59 homes were lost. Or how after one year into the top job, captain conservative John Howard faced international anger over comments at the United Nations General Assembly, and local anger over casual dismissing threats by extreme right-wing rival Pauline Hanson's One Nation party.

Be it stage shows, costumed cameos and all types of merchandise featuring their antics, fans of Sonic, Tails, Sally and Robotnik were in paradise. Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for a fifth member of the cast. For someone who enjoyed strong popularity and a species originating right there, SEGA World put the bare minimum effort into giving Knuckles the Echidna his own time to shine. A remarkable oversight undoubtedly leaving young fans wondering where that embattled echidna was hiding. As luck would soon have it, they needn't look far.

Nestled comfortably among the shelves between Sonic issues 45 and 46 came Knuckles: The Dark Legion. Sales had proven strong enough (or at least stronger than Tails and Sally's comics) to warrant the development of a second miniseries. Exciting in its own right, only amplified when exclusively announced through AOL in January 1997 it would evolve to a fully-fledged ongoing spinoff. No longer was trotting off to the newsagents exclusively a Friday end-of-month treat. Knuckles' arrival meant a mandatory Monday mid-month booster for us deprived of Mobian adventures.

Over the course of its 32 issue run, Knuckles the Echidna was, much like Endgame two months later, once praised as a pinnacle of Archie Sonic. Fans adored the series, giving ol' Rad Red his own unique mythos and adventures. While Sonic naffed around aimlessly in a post-Robotnik world, we saw Knuckles as the cool, 'mature' comic. He had stakes. He had drama. Quite a turnaround after the heavy criticism its writer took in late 1996 over Sally's leaked demise. Within months he was described as "a kewl writer!", or "one of the ONLY "good" and "balanced" writers Archie has", or how they're "so much better then sonic comics now its not funny." with "all the good villains and family members." Fans swarmed en mass to his WWWBoard, creating their own stories, characters and entire websites tied to the Brotherhood and Dark Legion. Not everyone agreed on the book's mission statement "Why does everybody liek it so much? All it is really is a bunch of Penders' characters running around with slight appearacnes by Chaotix and occasionally knuckles himself.", but it made a lot of other people happy. Enough for both The Dark Legion and Lost Paradise reissued as 'back catalogue' orders to selected comic book stores in late 2004.

And just like Endgame, those nostalgic memories have since dissipated when adults reflected on his tales with matured, scrutinous eyes. We grow. We learn. We reevaluate on what was once adored as adolescents, realising perhaps those good times weren't all that good. Maybe the series and characters were fine in concept but lacked competent execution. Maybe our childish expectations meant they were never good to begin with and the critics were right all along.

The youthful, creative glory days from the late-90's to mid-2000's of Knuckles of an Echidna, Kragok Comics, Echidna Gals, Dark Legion HQ, Echidnapolis, Knux Redux, Tisha-Li's Dark Legion Camp, Kensuke Aida's Julie-Su Shrine, Echidnoyle, Shattered Moonlight, Knuckles 9000, Kiri Megami's Chaotix Hideout, Darkest Mysteries, and of course True Red's mighty Knuckles Haven have long passed.

It's from learning said past our futures are forged, but do any of these characters have a future? Do they even deserve a future?

Or maybe it's just best they're all forever banished to the Twilight Zone of cultural irrelevance.

Next Time: For years I said it wouldn't be done. Yet promises, like the hearts and cheekbones of fictitious rodents, were made to be broken. Will May's hedgie rectrospect-y truly be worthy of such hate? Or have revisionists painted a far worse picture over the past two decades?

< Previous \ Index / Next >

[pajarinwrites]

EXO recs

directory | general masterlist

✨ favourites

OT9 / Multi

an adventurer's guide to romance ✨ @guardians-of-exo & @softly-savage-mint-yoongi i'm not giving up hope that they'll still post Jongin, Jongdae, and Baekhyun TT, fantasy!au, i haven't read all of them yet but yixing and yeol are so good i refuse to believe any of the others could disappoint

EXO Mall ✨ @yehet-me-up i don't know why everyone and their mother does EXO series, but i am definitely not complaining, junmyeon's was adorable, xiumin's is brilliant, i'm sure the others are just as great

EXO as Rich Kids @spacequokka EXO has more group series than every other group combined, every time i find a good fic it's part of a series like what? so far i've read jongdae's it's super cute

Xiumin

don't call it a love song (EXO mall series) ✨ @yehet-me-up 16.8k deserves it's own mention bc music nerd minseok?? rocker minseok?? bookstore owner!reader??? it's like this thing was written specifically for me, i ate this shit up it was so cute, their interactions were so cute, probably my favourite idiots2lovers ff, the snow scene, the singing scene, the dancing scene, the everything scene, minseok being a simp regularly, there is no fault in this ff, i'm gonna stop now i could keep going god help me

burning bridges @kwanisms 1.5k this hurt me, it's angst, it's not exactly happy, the synopsis tells you as much but every time i still read it and think maybe, maybe...

Suho

the meet cute (EXO mall series) @yehet-me-up 4.5k also deserves it's own mention, dilf!junmyeon??? how does writer know all of my favourite things in the world?? TT the antique store thing suits our leader so well, why is he so attractice? and his sungmin is super cute argh, i have beef with this ff because why is it so short TTTTT

Lay

you work too hard @cxsmicmyeon 0.7k just some domestic fluff with workaholic yixing, i'm projecting so hard onto this fic omg

extraordinary ✨ (an adventurer's guide to romance) @softly-savage-mint-yoongi & @guardians-of-exo 10k apothecary!yixing, yixing with glasses(!!!!!!), he's so sweet in this, they're both so cute, it's one of my favourites of the series so it deserves a special mention here

Baekhyun

inquiring minds @papermatisse 2.7k professor!baekhyun, i don't know what is up with exo-ls but y'all always find my most absolute favourite au versions for the boys like fr what's going on, anyway, this was soo freaking good! i read a professor one about woozi (svt) that was trying to do what this ff did but...., and now i get to read the concept executed perfectly, i'm screaming ugh

Chen

disclaimer: these are obviously works of fiction and they take place in non-canon universes. we all wish jongdae and his family only the best, duh. if you're uncomfortable with reading ff about him, skip ahead. me, personally, i'd like to keep a little delulu corner in my daydreams available for him &lt;3

CEO!Jongdae ( EXO as Rich Kids series) @spacequokka 0.5k it's so short TT but it's super sweet, the last line really got me, too

Chanyeol

kissed barely awake @irregular-idol-imagines 0.6k this confused me but it was so cute and fluffy that i didn't really care tbh

the doctor will see you now @kwanisms 4.5k this was kinda unhingend, in the best way possible, that's a high compliment in this context, incubus!yeol? i didn't think i'd like that premise but i did, i loved the slight horror aspects, the ending?? and how it linked back to the beginning? borderline genius, chapeau

D.O.

spellbound ✨ @whimsical-ness 6.7k ahhh this is soooo good, their dynamic is so nice, kyungsoo is such a freakin' cutie i cannot, and the other member cameos are so fitting ugh i love this so much

but you're warm... @kwanisms 0.5k ew this is so cute, i love cuddly, clingy kyeongsoo TT

Kai

movie night @galaxybam2 0.8k reading this taught me things about myself i'd have preferred not to know. enjoy, sluts (affectionately)

Sehun

spellbound @navellera 6k this doesn't feel like 6k, it was over in the blink of an eye, one of the only sehun ff i've read so far that i could actually stand, most of them (that i've looked at so far) have really weird writing in that the author puts weird sentences in a row that feel disconnected and irrelevant to one another sometimes, this one didn't have that, also, i've been looking for some hogwarts!exo and this really scratched that itch

[timaeusterrored]

Wip Whenever

Tagged by @peaches-n-screem @katsigian and @kharonion 💕💕💕

Working on a story called Early Morning Kisses. Was making it for someone then got worried it wasn’t good enough, finally decided to pick it back up

Kerry was up first. The night had been filled with tossing and turning and swearing, and he just gave up. When he finally saw the sun, that was his cue to slip out of bed, after one final kiss to V’s forehead. The merc had just shifted a bit and fell back into his deep sleep.

The Rocker rubbed his eyes, aggravated with his lack of sleep as he started on coffee. He thought he was getting better sleeping through the night. He also knew V would notice, and be concerned. And Kerry fucking hated his concern, not that he didn’t appreciate the fact that his partner cared about him, but it felt like Kerry had gone two step forward, and three steps back.

He knew he was overthinking it, V would never think or say that Kerry’s progress didn’t matter, that he had gone backwards. V also had shit nights where he tossed and turned in a huff then got up to go smoke. Kerry would usually join him, because when V didn’t sleep, Kerry didn’t either. He didn’t expect it to go both ways though, V needed sleep.

He didn’t even hear V coming down the stairs, too lost in his mind to notice. He felt hands slide over his hips and lock together in front of his stomach. Kerry almost immediately melted back into him, resting his head back on his shoulder. The thoughts had melted away with V’s warmth around him. It never ceased to amaze him how much he had grown to truly love this man.

College Au, obviously 💕

“I got Fox and Smidt first period, uh… actually I really need to go. I’m gonna be late- I love you too, mama- Yes I’ve eaten- she has- Mom!”

Vincent loved his mother, but she worried too much. And River had been honking for the better part of ten minutes, with Mike blowing up his phone. He knew! Trust him, he was well aware of the time! Them honking and texting him wasn’t going to make Guadalupe let him go any faster. It was a mother’s duty to make her child late.

“I CANNOT BE LATE TO VIKT’S CLASS AGAIN BECAUSE OF YOUR DUMBASS NOW GET IN HERE!” Mike’s whole upper body was basically out the window of River’s truck. It had been about a week since their run in with Vincent’s ex and both Mike and Vincent’s faces had healed quite nicely. Thanks to Vik’s magic of course.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’! You wanna tell my mother to not call me before class then be my guest!” Vincent had to squish himself into the back, his own bag and Judy’s in between the two. Mike got special treatment because he was River’s gay awakening despite the constant denial. Vincent had bets going with Panam and Aaron about it.

And some mini things: Vax losing his shit and Vampire Au

Vampire Au:

“I see…”

A vampire stood at the window, hands tucked in his pockets.

“That’s an issue.”

He turned, sitting on the two couches was a young vampire, rubbing his thighs with his palms. His nerves were obvious, and a sign of fear. Fear that could not be left to fester any longer.

Vax losing it:

Vax had always been a shadow. Willingly so, he didn’t mind being Jackie’s shadow back in their merc days, or the few months he was Kerry’s shadow. The difference was he was never in someone’s shadow.

Tagging: @moderndaycirce @vincentmatthews @elvenbeard @wilxfyre @theviridianbunny @vince-linder

[theriveroflight]

hoping for a last-minute miracle

This year, I participated in @fyeahghosttrick's Ghost Swap! I wrote for @laughingmango, and used the following prompt: "Any sort of what-if with the detectives". Technically also sort of falls into the prompt with Cabanela/Jowd h/c, but this is (mostly) gen with hints of subtext.

Rating: T (very light cursing; death/violence)

Word Count: 8504 (whoa!)

Summary:

The evidence is getting filed away tomorrow. After tonight...no more second chances. The force is giving up on Alma, and they'll have to give up too.

(AU: Alma's death has been a cold case for the last five years. Cabanela and Jowd, in charge of the Special Investigations Unit together, have one more night to solve the case before the evidence is filed away and it sinks to the bottom of priorities along with every other cold case...)

Read on AO3

Tonight is the last night they have to get any more information on Alma’s case. Cabanela thumbs open the file again. A locked-room murder. There had been a gun hanging on the wall that had gone off, somehow. There were no fingerprints on the gun. The ballistics matched the gun perfectly.

Jowd said that it wasn’t usually loaded. If Alma needed to use it, she could load it herself.

“Cabanela?” Jowd asks, voice rumbling. “Do you think it’s hopeless?”

“I don’t know,” he answers. “It’s not that simple, baby. These cases…they might not even be connected.”

“When the first case happened with the rocker…I thought…” Jowd sighs. “I thought there might have been hope. That we could find some answers.”

“There’s still something I want to investigate,” Cabanela says. “There’s a meeting going down tonight with a man that we both thought was dead.” He grabs a different file and slides it over to Jowd. “I’ve already dispatched some of the force to keep an eye on it.”

“...the Chicken Kitchen?” Jowd asks, looking over the file. “Who’d you send?”

“Detective Memry was planted undercover. Rindge is supposed to keep an eye on things from the outside. Iiiiiiiii like to think it’ll go well.”

“Lynne said she couldn’t be here tonight.” Jowd frowns. “She took the night off. Said she was meeting someone.”

“And just wheeeeere did that meeting happen to be?”

“She never said.” Jowd looks back up. “I’m worried about her, Cabanela. You know she’s never been the best at controlling her impulses. I could blame that one on you.”

“Oh, come on, baby, you were the one that was gonna turn himself in for a murder he didn’t commit.” Cabanela leans back in his chair. “Youuuuu just might be the impulsive one.”

“Well, I never,” Jowd answers, a smile on his face. Cabanela smiles in return — at least he’s managed to get a smile on his partner’s face. They’ve been few and far between since the events of five years ago — Jowd’s dedicated himself to investigating Alma’s death with the rigor of a swordsman.

“Inspector Cabanela?”

It’s the chief on the radio. What could he want with them?

“Chief, what’s wrong?”

“Case at the junkyard,” he answers. “Want you to supervise them.”

“Who’s on the team?” Jowd asks.

“I’ll go, baby,” Cabanela says. He shuts off the radio. “Keep an eye on things at Point X for me, yeah?”

“I will.” Jowd looks at him in a softly familiar way.

Yomiel. The body is undoubtedly his, just as much as the coroner is undoubtedly a fake. Cabanela can tell just by looking. The way people act portrays just who they are — he mostly applies that to himself, but that applies to other people too.

“Inspector!” Both detectives salute him when he gets downstairs. The coroner just keeps working. Yet another sign that something is amiss.

“Evening, boooys,” he says, shooting them a disarming smile. “Hoooow’s it hangin’?”

The two look at each other, mildly disconcerted. 

“Allow me to report, sir!” McCaw’s partner says. “We’ve brought a suspect into custody. She’s being held upstairs in the super’s office!”

“Good, gooooood,” Cabanela responds. “I’ll be right there. And just where is there?”

“Upstairs, sir,” McCaw answers. “Just past where you put your bike.”

“Thaaaaank you,” he answers. “I’ll just be heading on up there for an interview now. See you later, baby!” He prances back up the stairs and over towards the office. He’s been here before. Many a time, actually. Prof’s been a real help over these last few years. But nobody really knows about that.

But the person he sees when he gets up there surprises him.

“Lynne.” He looks at the patrolman keeping an eye on her. “Do me a soliiiiid, would you?”

The patrolman salutes. “Yessir!”

“Inspector Cabanela! I thought…I thought tonight was important.”

“Still got time to see you, baby,” he says. “Jowd’s on it. And you’re more important right now in this crisis.”

Lynne looks down. It pains him to see her distraught. She straightens up. “Wait. You said…crisis? Does that mean…I never even met that guy before tonight! I didn’t kill him!”

Hmm. So it sounds like Lynne doesn’t remember what Yomiel looks like, at least — it happened when she was young, at least, and the memory is probably hazy from how traumatic it must have been for her.

“Never? Then how’d you end up here, baby?”

“Well, uh, before tonight, that is…” Lynne raises a hand to the back of her neck sheepishly. “He reached out to me first, actually. He said that he had some important information about a case I’ve been working on.”

“Hmm…” Cabanela strokes his goatee. “Iiiii don’t believe your precinct assigned you to any big cases. Funny, isn’t it?”

“Huh?!” Lynne asks.

If he had to guess…she’s probably doing the same thing he and Jowd are. Trying to close a case that’s been open for far too long. Trying to heal Kamila’s heart.

Tonight is the last night. It only stands to reason that she’d be desperate.

“Don’t worry, baby. I don’t think you did it. I’m just tryna clear things up a little.” He smiles. It’s not as effective on her, since she knows him better, but it still works. “You’re not the type to shoot like that. And if anything ever happened to you…”

“Yeah,” Lynne says. “Yeah.” She swallows. “Inspector Cabanela…I have one question for you.”

“Go ahead, baby,” he says.

“Tonight is the night, right? That it…”

“I have noooo idea what you— Get down!” He shoves her out of the way as a bullet crashes through the window.

-

“Ngh.” What’s going on? Where is he? What…happened? “Lynne!”

“You’re awake,” a voice he doesn’t recognize says. “Great.”

“What’s…who am I?”

“You’re in the land of the dead,” the voice answers.

Cabanela — so that’s his name — opens his eyes.

“The…land of the dead?” he asks, right before he takes in who the voice belongs to. “You!”

“Huh?” the man who looks like Yomiel asks. Land of the dead…it would make sense. Yomiel is dead, after all. “I’m Sissel. And you’re Inspector Cabanela, I believe.”

“Thaaaaat’s right,” Cabanela answers. Sissel. That’s a name that pings some kind of recognition in him, but…he doesn’t know exactly where he’s heard it before. “So…I take it that I died, then?”

“You’re in the Ghost World,” ‘Sissel’ explains.

“I can’t be dead. Not tonight.”

“Someone told me that something very important was happening tonight,” Sissel continues. “If I had to guess, I’d say you were an important part of it. But…I can bring you back. Learn what happened to you.”

“Iiiiiii’m not sure who you think you are, but I don’t think anyone has that power,” Cabanela says.

“Let me show you, then,” Sissel says.

Cabanela’s death plays out in front of him — from the walk up the stairs to his conversation with Lynne.

“So that’s it, then?” Cabanela asks. “How are you gonna stop it?”

“That’s up to me,” Sissel answers. “I’ll do my best to stop whoever’s shooting you. I’ve already saved other lives before.”

“It’s in your hands now, baby. Nothin’ much I can do to stop it.” Cabanela leans back.

Sissel hums and gets to work. What that work is, Cabanela doesn’t quite understand at first. But then Sissel does…something to the van door and it opens.

A trick. Something that could happen in a locked room. Something that could happen…without a person there to witness it or to explain just what had happened.

Could this have happened to Alma?

Sissel drops some crates on top of the would-be assassin’s head. “And there we go.”

“Thank you,” Cabanela says. “You’ve helped more than you know.”

“Of course,” Sissel says. “Do you…know anything? About me?”

“Whyyyyyy do you ask?”

Sissel sighs. “Figured it was worth a shot, at least. It looks like you don’t have the answers I’m looking for, though. Let’s get back to the present now, shall we?”

Cabanela nods.

-

“It’s the night that her case gets filed away. Forever.” Lynne grips her arm and looks away. “Inspector Cabanela, I know you know what I’m talking about.”

“Well, Iiiiiii’m certainly not at liberty to tell you about it, baby,” Cabanela says. He needs to talk to Jowd as soon as possible — he needs to tell Jowd what he’s just learned. What the key is. “I gotta go now, baby. Get some sleep, would you?”

Lynne rolls her eyes. “You worry too much, Inspector.”

“I thiiiiiink in our line of work, it’s justified.” Cabanela turns towards the door. “I’ll just be going now. I’ll be sending that patrolman riiiiiiight back in, so don’t try to escape now, would you?”

“I won’t!” Lynne says.

-

Back to the precinct.

“Heeeyyyyy, Jowd,” Cabanela says. “Heard anything from Rindge?”

“I checked in with him,” Jowd responds. “He just arrived at the park. He’s keeping a lookout on things now.” His face twists. “At first when I called, someone else responded. He called himself…the guardian of the park?”

“Iiiiiiiinteresting,” Cabanela says. “They’ve got Lynne held up in the super’s office. They think she did it, baby.”

“Lynne?” Jowd asks. “Who…what was going on?”

“I don’t know,” Cabanela answers quietly. “The body…it was Yomiel.”

“Yomiel?” Jowd says suddenly. “No…there’s no way.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cabanela says. “Buuuuuut I have no idea who else it could be. It was…he was wearing the same suit still. Same hair. It’s like the past ten years never happened. Lynne didn’t remember him, though.”

Jowd frowns. “I can see why she doesn’t. It must have been difficult for her. But I could never forget what his face looked like.”

“Me neither.” Cabanela places a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Iiiiii’m not sure what to do, but we’ll figure this out. I know it.” He smiles. “You and me, baby. Together we’re unstoppable.”

Jowd nods. “Indeed.”

“Iiiiiii’m gonna head down to the chief’s office now,” Cabanela says. “I think heeeee might know something about Lynne’s case.”

“Alright. If it’s really Yomiel, then…”

Cabanela nods. “Lotta things going down in this town tonight, baby. It’s up to us to unravel this.”

“And Alma…” Jowd sighs. “I hope we can put her to rest tonight.”

Cabanela takes a deep breath. “I hope so too.”

“This…with Yomiel…it can’t be a coincidence with what happened ten years ago. There’s just something we’re missing.” Jowd sighs. “I don’t know what the connection could be…or if there even is one. Maybe we’re just chasing ghosts.”

Ghosts. The man that had called himself Sissel.

Would Jowd even believe him?

“Speaking of, actually,” Cabanela says, “there’s juuuuuust one more thing I have to tell you. There’s another player out there tonight. He saved my life. And he looked just like Yomiel.”

“...how?” Jowd asks.

“Took out an assassin. Called himself…Sissel. Strangest thing was, I think he miiiiiight be a ghost.”

“A ghost.” Jowd crosses his arms. “I don’t want to say you’ve lost your touch, but…”

“I’m not quite sure either,” Cabanela admits. “Buuuuuuut I’m keeping it in mind. For when I find out.”

Jowd nods. “Alright.”

Cabanela wonders if Jowd picked up what he was trying to say. That it could have been…that it could have been what happened to Alma.

-

“The super sent us the security footage,” Chief says. Cabanela can hear the almost imperceptible sound of him rubbing his feet together under the desk and fights the urge not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. “I hate to say it, Inspector, but it looks like your protégé is in real trouble.”

“Just show it to me, would you?” Cabanela winks and takes a position to watch as the projector springs downwards. It shows the edge of the junkyard near the fence. He watches Yomiel as he stands in front of Lynne. Yomiel? Maybe it is Sissel. Maybe Yomiel got himself a copycat, ten years later.

The man in the red suit flops back against the fencepost as Lynne takes out her pistol. She fires two shots, looking for all the world like she’s struggling. The first hits the man’s box. The second hits the man. The man flops forwards to the ground as Lynne puts her gun back.

“That’s not where the body was found,” Cabanela points out. He grabs the remote and fast-forwards the footage.

Huh. A black cat in the box knocked down the body. Odd.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Inspector, but…this looks like a case for the Special Investigations Unit.” The chief frowns. “He looks an awful lot like that suspect from all those years ago.”

“You’re right.” Cabanela frowns. “Yomiel…I didn’t think I’d ever see that face again. But to think that maybe…”

“What are you thinking, Inspector?” the chief asks.

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief,” Cabanela says. “I’m sure it’ll be alright, as long as I’m on the case.”

“Still keeping an eye on Point X?”

“Of cooooooourse,” he answers. “I’ve got some officers I trust keeping a lookout on the scene. And Jowd’s got an eye on them, too.” He’d trust Jowd with his life.

“I always wondered…” The chief trails off, and then straightens himself back up a little bit. “I always wondered how you were always so sure that Jowd didn’t do it.”

“I trust him,” Cabanela answers. “If he says he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it. Plain and simple, baby. Just the way he’s always liked it.”

“I suppose that’s true.” The chief sighs. “Still, I have to wonder after all these years…he could’ve been letting the case grow cold for his own sake.”

Well, Cabanela knows that’s…true. At least a little bit true. Jowd’s not doing it for himself, though. He’s got his little girl at home to look after. Kamila…Cabanela hopes she’s safe at home, and not doing anything else besides reading her book and listening to her music.

“Jowd’s not like that. Trust me,” Cabanela says. “I wouldn’t have kept him so long as my partner if I didn’t.”

They have to stop this. It’s simple enough.

“Chief,” he continues, “I’m heading back to the scene of the murder. Lynne should still be there. I’ll take her back to the precinct. Didn’t get the chance earlier.”

The chief nods. “Alright, Inspector.”

Cabanela heads out and bikes back to the junkyard.

But when he gets back to the office, it’s…empty. Or at least the person he’s looking for isn’t here.

“Where’d Lynne go?” Cabanela asks the nearest patrolman.

“I don’t know!” he answers, putting his hands up. “You left, called me back in, and she was already gone!”

Ah.

Cabanela sits down at the super’s desk. “Heeeeeey, chief. I need a favor. Put out an APB on Lynne for me, wouldya?”

“Got a runner on our hands?”

“Indeeeeeed. Now, I don’t like what’s happened, but that doesn’t change that she’s pretty heavily involved in what’s gone down here. And since she ran, it means she has something she wants to hide from me.”

“I’ll do that right away, then,” the chief answers. “Thank you, Inspector.”

“Don’t thank me yet, baby. I’ve stiiiiiiiill got work to do.” Cabanela sets down the phone. And then it starts ringing again.

“Chief told me you were here,” Jowd says, his low timbre vibrating over the line. “I just thought I should inform you that they’ve found Lynne. She’s at Point X.”

“What? Why is she at Point X?” Cabanela demands.

“Dunno. Detective Rindge just informed me.” Jowd sighs. “Do you think that maybe she got in over her head? That she was the one who scheduled the meeting because she was looking for answers?”

“Could be anything,” Cabanela answers. “I’m not sure exactly what she’s been up to tonight. But she told me something iiiiiiiinteresting earlier.”

“What’d she say?”

“She said that tonight was the night that her case was being filed. And she asked me to tell her about Alma.”

“I…” Jowd trails off. “That’s concerning. But I don’t think Lynne has the resources to arrange that sort of meeting.”

“That’s true,” Cabanela admits. “She told me when I asked her that Yomiel had asked her to meet. I’m not sure she was exactly…looking before now. When the opportunity strikes, you’ve got to take it.”

“Like tonight, then?” Jowd asks. “Rindge was heading in, last I heard. He should be talking to Lynne.”

“Thaaaaanks.” Cabanela sighs. “Keep me updated, will you?”

“Of course,” Jowd answers. “I wouldn’t leave my partner in the dark.”

-

Cabanela heads down to the basement.

“Heeeeeey, Prof,” he says as he hops down the stairs. “Get a good look at that body yet?”

“We already knew it was Yomiel,” he answers. Lovey-Dove coos atop his head. “Can’t conduct a proper autopsy, though. Could run some other tests…”

“Why nooooot?”

“Take a look for yourself,” he answers. Cabanela approaches the table. The man attempts to make an incision. The incision instantly heals. “I suspect the healing factor is the Temsik shard lodged in him.”

“Faaaaascinating.” Cabanela looks over the body.

“It’s a corpse, to put it shortly — he’s not truly alive. Somehow or another…he’s inhabiting his own body.” Lovey-Dove coos, as if to punctuate that ominous remark.

“I learned earlier tonight that ghosts are real,” Cabanela says. “That could be it. I just still don’t understand how.”

“Hmm.” He runs a scanner over the body. “Same radiation as the park, though. You’ve got eyes on that?”

“Yeah,” Cabanela answers. “Rindge was put there for the stakeout. We’re fiiiiiiiiine. Everything’s under control.”

That’s when the phone rings.

“Cabanela? Are you there?” Jowd asks, sounding more panicked now.

“What’s wrong?” he demands.

“It’s Kamila.” Cabanela could swear that his heart stops beating for a moment. “They’ve kidnapped her.”

“What?!”

“The demand is my life,” Jowd says. “They want me to surrender myself for her.”

“No,” Cabanela says.

“I have two hours to respond before they kill her,” Jowd says. “I know you can take care of her. You’ve been helping me out for years. I know you can do this, Cabanela.”

“You said two hours, right?” Cabanela says. “I’m going to figure out how she was kidnapped and rescue her before it’s too late.”

“It’d take a miracle to pull that off,” Jowd says.

“And if anyone’s in the business of miracles, it’s me, baby,” he answers. “I’ll find Kamila. Mark my words.”

“Good luck,” Jowd answers.

Cabanela puts down the receiver. “I’m afraid I have other business to attend to, Prof. Catch you later!”

He just nods in response. Lovey-Dove nods alongside him.

Cabanela walks up the stairs and hops on his bike. Time to go. Where could the kidnappers have taken them?

Maybe he’ll start by checking in on Point X. Lynne’s probably left at this point, but Memry and Rindge will still be there.

-

Cabanela sits down at a booth in the Chicken Kitchen and rings the bell three times.

“Memry,” he remarks. “Sit down. Did anyone come in tonight that was suspicious?”

“Besides that other detective?” Memry remarks. “And I’m not supposed to sit.”

Cabanela waves his hand. “Don’t wooooooorry about losin’ your job. It’s not like you’re gonna be here after tonight, baby.”

Memry sighs. “Don’t remind me! I loved the extra pay. Both from here and from the boss. I was making so much moolah it was worth all the crap I get being a waitress.”

Cabanela raises an eyebrow. Then again, she is on the job while she’s here, so she should be getting paid as a detective and as a waitress. Not that waitressing pays well, but depending on the tips she’s getting…he supposes he could understand why she’d want to stay longer in her position.

“Actually, there were a couple people upstairs earlier,” she says. “I tried to plant a bug on them, but Rindge told me that it didn’t work and all he was getting was the chef, for whatever reason. Could’ve sworn I put it on the chicken I was getting to them, but…I guess I’ll never find out what was in that giant suitcase they had. Seemed pretty heavy, too. The guy was having trouble carrying it. I bet that woman he was with could’ve carried it no problem, though. She was pretty strong, if you catch my drift.”

Cabanela rolls his eyes. “And where did they go after that?”

“Not sure,” Memry answers. “But whoever they were waiting for didn’t show up.”

“Iiiiiiiinteresting,” he says. “What’d they look like?”

“The guy was wearing a hat, and he was always a little hunched over. The woman was taller than him, even without her heels. She had a really wild hairstyle, though. Blonde hair, all around her in a spiral. Kinda wish my hair were long enough to do that, but then again, I don’t want to have to deal with it when it gets that long.”

“Detective,” he says, “do you have aaaaaaany idea where they went?”

“Nope! I wish I could tell ya. They left on a motorcycle, I think. Rindge might have the plate number. I heard he was lonely in that park…”

“They might come back,” Cabanela says. “Stay here until the restaurant closes, yeah? After that, you can hang out with him aaaaaaaall you want.”

“Fine, fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Wouldn’t want to get written up tonight.”

Cabanela leaves the restaurant and rides over to the park.

“Stop the park from being turned into a housing site!” a young man says, waving around leaflets. “Protect Temsik, rock of the gods!”

Cabanela grabs a leaflet just to placate him, and then jaunts on towards where Rindge is looking out over the edge, in the direction of the Chicken Kitchen.

“Inspector Cabanela!” Rindge says, straightening up suddenly. “Sir!”

“Relaaaaaaax,” Cabanela says, leaning up against the railing. “I’m just here to ask you something, baby. Did you spot a couple carrying a large suitcase? Memry in there seems to think youuuuuu might have a plate number for me.”

“I saw them leaving on a motorcycle,” Rindge answers, as impassive as ever. “I couldn’t see the plate number, though. Too small. They were heading east, though.”

“Thaaaaaank you,” Cabanela responds. “East it is, then!”

East. What was in that direction? Where would make for a good hideout for a couple criminals?

Oh.

Jowd and Kamila had moved out of their old house a few months after Alma’s death due to the fact that Jowd hadn’t wanted Kamila to stick around there so long afterwards. The house had become derelict since, and known as something that only teenagers occasionally looked through for kicks, to see if the house was haunted. It’d make the perfect place for something like this.

Cabanela gets on his bike and rides over there. There are some candles lit in the front room. He sneaks his way in instead of announcing his presence just to find that there’s a man sleeping hunched over that matches Memry’s vague descriptions…and Amelie, the Justice Minister’s daughter. What is she doing here?

(At least it’s not Kamila.)

“Hello, Inspector.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of that somewhat familiar voice.

“Sissel,” he manages to respond, “whaaaaaat are you doing here?”

“I was listening in on their conversation,” Sissel answers, raising one arm to shrug. “Couldn’t let the little lady stay kidnapped. Though I didn’t realize she was…”

“That’s not Kamila,” Cabanela says.

“I know that,” Sissel answers. “They got the wrong girl. She’s sick, though. I feel bad for her. Managed to get her free, but…not sure how to get her out. Get her out of here before the lady comes back, okay? I should go.”

Cabanela nods. “Alright. I’ll get her back to her family. I’m sure they’re worried about her. Sissel…”

“Do you need a favor from me?” he asks. “I’m already helping Lynne, so my plate is pretty full, but…”

“Make sure she gets through this night,” Cabanela says. “But I think you’re already doin’ that. So just keep on keeping on, yeah?”

Sissel smiles, the genuine happiness looking strange with the face he wears. “That won’t be a problem, Inspector.”

Cabanela snaps back into the real world and picks Amelie up.

The man straightens up. Cabanela freezes.

“Just my imagination…” He falls back asleep.

Amelie sniffles. Cabanela takes them both outside before setting her down.

“Heeeeeey,” he says, kneeling down to meet her at her own level. “How are you doin’?”

She sniffles again, and then sneezes. “I wanna go home. You’re a police officer, right? Can you take me home?”

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” he says. “I can get you home.”

“Okay,” Amelie answers. She wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Mommy and Daddy both said that I shouldn’t go out, since I’m sick like this, but I had to get something for Daddy.” There’s a lighter hidden up the sleeve of her nightgown. “Tonight is his birthday, but Mommy forgot, since she’s trying to finish her book tonight.”

“I’ll make sure it gets to him,” Cabanela says. He grabs his bike and places her on the seat, and then grabs the handlebars, letting her grab onto him. He wheels the bike towards her house. “And you, too.”

“Stop right there.”

Cabanela reaches into his jacket for his gun. The woman has long blonde hair, falling around her in rings. Just like Memry described. She has a riding crop, too.

He grabs his badge first. “Inspector Cabanela, Special Investigations Unit. You’re under arrest for kidnapping.” He then reaches for his handcuffs.

“Hmph.” She strikes him. He flinches, puts down the kickstand so Amelie doesn’t fall, and advances on her, cuffing her to a nearby pole.

He flips the kickstand back up and keeps walking Amelie towards the street corner.

“Heyyy, Jowd, I got some gooooood news, baby.”

“Really?” Jowd asks, voice sounding rushed. “What is it?”

“Iiiiiii found her!” Cabanela answers. “Wasn’t Kamila that was kidnapped, though.”

“It wasn’t?”

“As far as Iiiiii know, Kamila’s still at Lynne’s place,” he says. “Say hi, Amelie.” He offers the receiver over to her.

“Um. Hi?” She coughs a couple times.

“Thaaaaanks.”

“Is that the justice minister’s daughter?” Jowd asks.

“That it is,” Cabanela answers. “I’ll be getting her home now, and then I’m headin’ over to Lynne’s apartment to check on Kamila.”

“Thank you,” Jowd answers, voice rumbling. “I’m…I’m not happy that someone else was kidnapped, but I’m glad Kamila’s safe.”

“That’s juuuuuuust fine,” Cabanela answers. “Understandable, even.”

He still remembers the pang of relief that he had felt when it hadn’t been Kamila in there. When he had seen Amelie, sniffling and sneezing instead.

“Then I suppose I’ve got to focus on the case,” Jowd says.

“We can focus on the case when I get back, baby,” Cabanela answers. “I’ll see you soon.”

Jowd hangs up. He’s always been a concise man — that’s one of the things that had made them fit so well together.

“Who was that? And who’s Kamila?” Amelie asks.

“Thaaaaat was my partner in the force,” Cabanela answers. “He’s Kamila’s father. And Kamila’s who we thought got kidnapped, not you.”

“Oh! So you two are her dads?” she asks.

Cabanela very nearly stops in his tracks. “Who, me? I’m noooooot her dad. Nosiree.”

“But you said that you were partners?”

“Detective partners, not like that,” Cabanela answers. “Which way was your house?”

“Ummmmmmm.” She deliberates on that for a little bit. “I think it’s that way?” She points to the west. Fair enough.

-

“We’re here!” Amelie lets go and hops off the bike. “Thanks, Inspector!” She waves as she walks into the house, sneezing one more time for good measure.

He hopes she’ll be okay. Can’t be easy to get kidnapped while sick.

He hops on his bike and rides back to the precinct. Time for him to touch base with Jowd.

That’s when the car hits him.

-

“Seems like you and Lynne are competing to see who can die the most tonight,” Yo—Sissel says. He doesn’t sound like Yomiel, at least — but the face being the same still throws Cabanela off when he’s not anticipating it.

“Is Lynne okay?” Cabanela asks.

“She’s fine,” Sissel answers. “But you’re not.”

“Iiiiiii got hit by a car,” Cabanela says. “What can you do to prevent that?” 

“You’d be surprised,” Sissel answers. “Four minutes is a long time to change things.”

Cabanela just lets Sissel do his thing. As they watch…

Ah. Yomiel was driving the car that hit him. So it was probably intentional. Dammit.

“Who…is that?” Sissel asks. “And why does he have my face?”

Cabanela just sighs. “Iiiiiii’m not sure,” he answers.

“Let’s see what I can do,” Sissel says. “We might have to…get creative.”

“Well, a little creativity never hurt anything,” Cabanela answers, flashing a smile at Sissel. “You’ve gooooot this!”

“Thanks,” Sissel says, a little sheepish.

They start on the road, in front of where he died. Sissel takes him over on a leaf that drifts over, and eventually they manage to come down on top of the car. Yomiel has been…outside Jowd and Kamila’s house. What’s he waiting for?

And then the phone rings.

“Hello?” Yomiel snaps.

“Beauty’s gone! And the kid!” the man says on the other end of the line. That’s the man Cabanela had seen inside — the one that had been napping when he took Amelie back home. “Beauty was supposed to be back a while ago, ya see…”

Yomiel sighs, clearly annoyed. “I’m keeping an eye on the kid’s house. I haven’t seen her or her father all night. I don’t have time for your wild goose chases. You can live without your partner, can’t you?”

The man visibly shrinks. “Beauty’s my everything!”

“I’ll be coming to you,” Yomiel says. “I’m on my way now. You better not screw this up.”

Sissel jumps over to the car and triggers the lock.

Yomiel jiggles the door. “I don’t remember locking this…” He pulls out the keys.

“Looks like we didn’t buy ourselves that much time,” Cabanela says.

“No, but it’s still a little more time for you to get across that road safely,” Sissel says.

Yomiel finally gets the key and unlocks the car.

“Now what can we do?” Sissel asks.

“Do you…not know how a car works?” Cabanela asks.

“I barely remember what a car is!” Sissel responds.

“What?!”

“I’ve been trying to find my identity,” Sissel says. He looks over at Yomiel. “He probably has the key to all that. I don’t know why he’s just like me, but…that’s what I’ve been trying to do tonight.”

“A noble quest indeed!” Cabanela says.

“Do…you know anything?”

“I don’t think now’s the best time to talk about this,” he answers.

“After I save you,” Sissel says. “How do I operate this?” The gear shift.

“Not while the car is moving!” Cabanela says. “Are you crazy? You’re going to get him killed!”

Sissel attempts to move it. “It’s not moving anyway.” He looks around a little more, and swivels the mirror.

The world turns blue in front of them.

“Now then,” Yomiel says, focusing directly on Sissel, “I knew there was another ghost around town tonight, but…I didn’t think it’d be me of all people that was going around and stopping things from happening the way they’re supposed to. Not sure why you’ve got my face, but…things will still go down the way they’re meant to. However you’re trying to stop me…it won’t work. I will wipe out the last traces of Temsik before this night is over — and that will include you.”

Sissel sucks in a sharp breath.

The car speeds up. Cabanela, still alive, stops just before crossing the road instead of going.

The world turns red again.

“I don’t think that was how we were supposed to pull that off,” Sissel admits.

“Hey, I’m alive, aren’t I?” Cabanela asks. “I guess he’ll make it to his destination this time, baby. What’d you say last time? Go back to the new present?”

“Yes,” Sissel answers. “But…before I return you, I have to ask: did you know that man?”

“I did,” Cabanela answers. “He was shot earlier tonight. And I suspect his involvement in some other incidents. Especially after what I witnessed just now…”

“But me?”

“His name wasn’t Sissel,” Cabanela says. “Good luck figuring it out.”

Sissel looks down, but when Cabanela’s next aware, he’s back on his bike. He looks both ways before crossing this time, and makes it across without getting hit by any surprise cars.

-

“Kamila?” he asks. Missile barks when he walks in and runs around his feet.

She sets down her book. “Hey!” she answers. “Missile, could you please quiet down?”

Cabanela squats down and pets Missile.

“The neighbor said she’d try to knock the wall down if she heard Missile barking too much again,” Kamila says, sounding apologetic.

“You’re okay, right?”

“Of course I am!” she answers. “Tonight’s been…good, though I am a little sad that Lynne can’t hang out with me. She said that she’d be busy tonight.”

“And why’d she say that, baby?” Cabanela knows that if Lynne had really intended to stay out the entire night she would have probably told Kamila to stay home.

“I…don’t know, actually.” Kamila frowns. “Why are you here?”

“Your dad was worried about you. Iiiiiiii told him you were fine, but he wanted me to check up on you, juuuuuuust in case something bad happened.”

“Phone’s broken,” Kamila says casually. “I accidentally dropped the receiver earlier.”

“Huh.” Cabanela looks down at the phone. “Well then, Iiiiiii suppose we’ll have to find some other way to talk to your dad. I’ll go ask next door, yeah?”

“Okay,” Kamila says.

Cabanela hops over towards the apartment next door. “Hellooooooo,” he says when the door opens to him.

“And just what brings…a police officer to interrupt me on the holiest of nights?”

Great. It’s the Justice Minister’s wife. What was her name again…?

“My sinceeeeerest apologies, madame,” he says, bowing. “Iiiiiiii just need to borrow your phone for a moment. Could I?” He flashes his most charming smile at her.

“Well,” she says, “who am I to say no to a man like you?” She arches an eyebrow. “Phone’s over by the bed.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” he says. He saunters over the phone.

“Cabanela?” Jowd asks. “You were right about the ghosts.”

“That’s one hell of an opener, baby,” Cabanela says. “Buuuuuut I was going to tell you something first. Kamila’s just fine. I just checked up on her.”

“That’s good,” Jowd says. “But…you said a ghost might have caused Alma’s death. I just spoke to one earlier.”

“Greaaaaat,” Cabanela says. “You can tell me all about it later, baby. But I am currently borrowing this phone, so Iiiiiiiiii should probably be getting off.”

“That you should,” Jowd says, a tinge of warmth in his voice. “I’ll see you back at the station, Cabanela.”

He hangs up the phone.

“Thanks again,” he says, firing off a salute towards her. She’s too engrossed in her work to look up, pecking away at the keys one at a time. It strikes him as an awfully inefficient way to type, but then again, what does he know?

-

“You met Sissel?” Cabanela asks when he gets back to the station.

“Yes,” Jowd answers. “The only issue is…how can we prove it? How can we prove that it was a ghost?”

“I don’t know,” Cabanela answers. “I don’t have all the answers, baby. But whatever’s out there tonight is trying to get rid of everything Temsik.”

“Temsik, huh?” Jowd asks. “It’s always going to come back to that day.”

Cabanela puts a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “You’re not a bad person. I know it.”

Jowd frowns. “I could’ve killed him. I might have, even. I’m not like you.” He plucks a speck of dirt off Cabanela’s shoulder. “My coat’s not exactly clean.”

Cabanela rakes a judgemental gaze over Jowd’s coat. “Clean enough, I’d say. You’re standing beside me now, aren’t you?”

“Just because you kept insisting that I had to be here,” Jowd responds. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“I disagree,” Cabanela says. “I don’t want to be here without you.”

Jowd nods.

“Have you heard anything about Lynne?” Cabanela asks, shifting the subject away after a moment of awkward silence.

“No,” Jowd answers. “She hasn’t been seen since the Chicken Kitchen. We’re still looking, though.”

“Alright,” Cabanela says. “I think we need to prioritize Yomiel.”

“I agree,” Jowd says. “It has to be connected. Alma’s death, the meteor strike, Temsik….everything that happened tonight goes back to Temsik Park. The night’s wearing thin. Where would he go?”

“Maaaaaybe he’s trying to escape,” Cabanela says. “He’s working with the people that kidnapped Kamila.”

“And McCaw and his partner found someone crushed by the junkyard wrecking ball.” Jowd frowns. “It looks like he’s part of the same group that was at Point X earlier. Did we get any intel about them?��

“No,” Cabanela says. “I talked to Memry about them, and she said that they were the ones who kidnapped Kamila, buuuuuuuuut when she tried to plant a bug on them all she ended up with was the chef.”

“The…chef?” Jowd asks, confused. “What?”

“That’s what Rindge told me, at least,” Cabanela answers. “Iiiiiii’m not quite sure what went down.”

“I think I might have the answer to that.”

“Sissel,” Jowd says, offering him a warm smile. “It’s good to see you under better circumstances. Is someone dead?”

“Not right now,” Sissel answers. “It had to be the chef. The lady managed to figure out the bug. It caused that detective in green and Lynne to die.”

That…does not make sense at all.

“Could you please explain further?” Jowd asks.

“In the timeline where that undercover detective plants a bug on the chicken, one of them manages to figure out they’re being listened to, and when the bug got destroyed, the detective in green died,” Sissel explains, slower now. “I couldn’t save Lynne without saving him. But if it helps, I’m pretty sure they were waiting for the other man in red.”

“You saw him?” Jowd asks.

“I did,” Sissel says. “I’m…not sure what’s going on, but I have to talk to him again.”

“We’re trying to find him too,” Cabanela says. “He has answers for us relating to an incident we’re investigating.”

“Lynne told me a little about it,” Sissel admits, “but I didn’t get very much from her. A murder that happened five years ago, right?”

“Yes.” Jowd frowns.

“She said…it was something she wanted to do for you,” Sissel says, speaking directly to Jowd. “To repay you for what you did ten years ago.”

Jowd looks down. “Whatever she told you…I’m not as much of a hero as she thinks I am.”

“Sounded pretty heroic to me,” Sissel answers. “Lynne said you saved her life.”

“And I nearly killed someone else in the process.”

Cabanela frowns at that comment.

“Doesn’t matter if it didn’t happen,” Sissel says with a shrug. Cabanela flinches.

“That’s not how I see it.” Jowd’s face is impassive. He’s shut down. Cabanela’s seen that face enough to know it’s high time they shifted the subject of conversation to something else.

“Anything else you have to tell us, Sissel?” Cabanela asks.

Sissel hums. “I learned my name from some people on a submarine. They said they were looking for a man that looked like me, going by the name Sissel. And that I was supposed to give them information.”

Jowd looks over at Cabanela. “The docks?”

Cabanela nods. He could go and make his escape down there to that submarine…

“I’ll see if I can find my way down there too,” Sissel says.

“I’ll call the office there for you,” Jowd says. “That’ll make it easier.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do for you after you saved our lives tonight.”

“Don’t thank me.” Sissel seems to relax, despite the words. “I’m just looking for answers, and you all seem to have them. As long as I still don’t know the mystery of me…I’ll keep going.” He snaps them back into the real world.

“I will neeeeever be used to that,” Cabanela admits.

“It’s easier if you can sense him,” Jowd admits. “He’s waiting in the pen holder.”

Cabanela raises an eyebrow. “And how do you know that, baby?”

“I can…sense him, in a manner of speaking,” Jowd admits. “Call it detective’s instinct.”

“Like you’d know much about instinct,” Cabanela responds, mostly on impulse.

“You were right,” Jowd says. “It never sat right with me to just trust that I was right about what happened five years ago. But you said…”

“‘...if you can’t trust your instincts, trust me,’” Cabanela fills in. “I remember.”

-

It had been five years ago when the payphone on the street corner of Cabanela’s usual route home rang.

He was curious enough to pick up.

“Cabanela?” Jowd had asked, sounding like he was about to cry. Cabanela hadn’t heard him sound like that since his wedding, and this hadn’t sounded like a happy occasion. “Please. I need you here.”

“Are you at home?” he had asked, swinging onto his bike.

“Yes,” Jowd had answered, and Cabanela rode off as fast as his bike could go. When he got to the house, the sight in front of him had been astonishing, to say the least.

Alma was dead. Shot in the chest. Clean. Hit the heart. Cabanela remembers thinking that at the very least she had died a quick death.

And above her, Kamila had been crying, with Jowd soothing her.

“It wasn’t supposed to do that!” Cabanela had heard.

“Report,” Cabanela had snapped, using the same tone as the chief, just to get them to snap out of it.

Jowd looked up. “Thank you.”

“What’s going on?” Cabanela grabbed a pair of gloves from his jacket. They weren’t crime scene forensic style, but they were good enough. The gun on the wall… 

“It’s not loaded, but the ammo’s not hard to find if Alma ever needed it,” Jowd admitted softly. “I taught her to shoot.”

“Every gun needs someone to pull the trigger,” Cabanela had answered, and Jowd had flinched. “So who could’ve pulled this from up here?”

“It was me,” Jowd says. “I shot her. With my gun.”

His tone is too flat. 

“I don’t believe that for a second, baby.” The barrel of the gun on the wall was still warm when Cabanela pressed a hand to it.

Jowd had pulled Kamila in closer. Cabanela watched as her tears soaked into his coat.

“It was her birthday, wasn’t it?” Cabanela had asked, softer now. “Hell of a way to celebrate.”

Jowd flinched. “Watch your language.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Kamila had said again.

Cabanela knelt. “What do you mean, baby?”

“It was supposed to set off the party poppers,” she sobbed. “There was no string there. I’m not supposed to touch the gun.”

“I don’t know who did it,” Jowd said, “but my little girl’s not responsible for this.”

Cabanela looked at the gun in his hand. At the wall in front of him. At the decorations on the table, preparing for a party.

“She told me about it,” Jowd continued. “The machine. The cupid here…it’s supposed to face the table.”

“Then…something must have happened,” Cabanela said.

“I…don’t know what to think,” Jowd admitted. “Kamila, go up to your room. We’ll talk more later.”

Kamila nodded eagerly and scampered away.

“I know…I don’t want to think she could have done it,” Jowd continued. “But…the only person in the house was her. What else could it be? I want to say that she didn’t do it. I want more than anything to say that. But…”

“If you can’t trust your instincts, trust me,” Cabanela had told him. “I’m your partner. If I say she didn’t do it, she didn’t do it.”

They messed with the window, made the lock look like it was tampered with. There was an outside possibility now.

Cabanela had filed the reports, and tried not to think too hard about how he made himself accomplice to a crime.

-

“Sounds like you learned something from me after all,” Cabanela quips half-heartedly.

“It’s been years,” Jowd answers.

The lines start to blur after that long together. Cabanela knows Jowd as well as he knows himself. Maybe better, even.

Jowd picks up the phone and calls the docks.

“Sorry, I meant to dial someone else,” he says, and then puts down the phone. “Sissel should be on his way now. He’s not here.”

“Let’s go, then,” Cabanela says. “See if we can catch him.”

-

They find Yomiel uncovering a motorboat.

“So you’re not dead,” Yomiel says, directing the words to Jowd, bitterness seeping into his voice. “That just means I can do it myself.”

Cabanela reaches for the handcuffs in his coat’s inside pocket, and then he feels nothing at all.

-

The feel of a gun in his hand…the bang…what’s happening? Why can’t he do anything? He can’t see. He can’t feel. What’s around him? What’s happening?

-

When he comes to, he’s flat on the ground. Someone’s on top of his back.

“What’s going on?” Cabanela barks.

“Looks like you’re yourself again,” Lynne says from behind him. The weight gets off his back. He rolls over to see her and Jowd standing above him. “I managed to find my own way here, thanks to some intel Sissel gave me.” She offers him a hand. Cabanela takes it and pulls himself up. “Will someone just tell me what’s going on? I’ve been involved in this the whole time. Are you telling me that he’s the one who took me hostage?!”

“We need Sissel for this conversation,” Jowd just says, and they all pop back into the Ghost World.

“You two have been managing to dodge explaining this whole time,” Sissel says, blankly, without accusation despite the words. “There is no hiding here. Your thoughts are projected into speech. And yet…”

“His name is Yomiel,” Jowd says. “The man who took Lynne hostage. The man we’ve been chasing all night.”

Sissel’s form flickers and glitches before ultimately settling on a blue flame — one with sunglasses, but incorporeal nonetheless.

No more incorporeal than any other ghost, Cabanela supposes.

“I guess I know who he is, at least,” Sissel says. “But I’m not him.”

“No, you’re not,” Cabanela says. “That much has been clear from the start. The real Yomiel…”

Lynne gasps. “He killed Alma?!”

“That’s what we’ve been thinking, baby,” Cabanela says.

Sissel gestures over to Jowd. “He told me that you couldn’t solve the mystery until you found out about ghost tricks.”

Lynne looks down. “I’m sorry I’ve been getting in your way. Both of your ways. I didn’t realize it was all connected. I thought…I thought you had given up on it.”

“So you conducted your own investigation,” Cabanela says, “and you would’ve presented the findings to us if you had figured it out.”

“Well,” Lynne says, “I’m still not really sure. I’ve been hiding out here because it’s one of the shadier parts of town. It’s easy to stay away from the other officers.”

“Yomiel doesn’t just possess objects like Sissel does,” Jowd says. “He can also possess people.”

“So that’s what happened to me,” Cabanela says. “Did I…”

“Everyone but me’s currently alive,” Sissel says. “Missile helped.”

“Though I suspect one of my ribs is broken,” Jowd says dryly.

“Did Yomiel get away?” Cabanela asks.

“I think it’s more important that you’re alive,” Sissel says. “I have one more method of finding him. There’s a phone line to that submarine. And then…I guess from there it’ll be up to me. But what I do know is that whoever he’s working with has something planned for Yomiel and whatever Temsik is.”

“The park?” Lynne asks. “It’s always been named that…”

“He was hit by the meteor,” Jowd says. “That could be it.”

“I don’t have much longer here,” Sissel says. “Supposedly, I’m going to be gone once the morning comes. Not sure that’s true anymore, but…I have to find out the truth, and I think he’s the only one who knows.”

“Good luck,” Lynne says. “I’m rooting for you!”

“Thanks,” Sissel says.

“I know what happened to me now,” Lynne says. “He possessed me, didn’t he? I remember not being in control of myself. I can’t remember what actually happened, though…”

“There’s video footage from the surveillance footage of you shooting him,” Jowd says. “It’s irrefutable evidence. However, we also have evidence that he survived, unharmed. It’s likely that we could get the chief to drop your case.”

She perks up. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“If anything, it’d fall under our purview, due to the…strangeness,” Jowd says.

“And weeeeeeee know for a fact that you didn’t kill him,” Cabanela says. “He’s still alive, after all.”

“More like he’s been dead the whole time,” Jowd says, frowning. “He said that to me while you were retrieving Amelie. He blames me for killing him. Was…”

“No,” Cabanela says. “You’re not right to blame yourself for it. It wasn’t you. It was never you.”

“He was going to make you shoot me,” Jowd says. “That’s what he did when he possessed you. You had your gun pointed at me. That was when Lynne came in.”

“Well, it’s not like anyone else was going to do anything.” She seems distinctly uncomfortable in a way that Cabanela doesn’t see often. “I mean, it sucks that I shot someone I barely knew, even if he did turn out to be totally alive and also evil. It would suck even harder to have shot someone I actually care about.”

“Thaaaaanks,” Cabanela says. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem!” she responds. “So, are you guys going to take me back to the station, then? I had a good run evading the law…”

“I don’t thiiiiiiink you’ll want to say that to the chief,” Cabanela says. The three of them walk back to the police car together.

“Then I just won’t,” she answers.

-

“It’s been a long night,” Jowd says.

The sun’s starting to rise. Cabanela hadn’t even noticed it was nearly dawn.

“We got a lot done,” Cabanela answers. “You think we need the SIU anymore now that we’ve solved the case?”

“We still need to find Yomiel,” Jowd says. “It’s not the end. We might know what happened, but…this isn’t over yet. Not until he can’t cause any more chaos.”

“I agree,” Cabanela says. “A new adventure awaits, baby!” He yawns. “But for now…I’m headin’ back home.”

“Have a good one,” Jowd says. “And I’ll see you then, too.”

Cabanela leaves and gets on his bike, taking one last look at the sunrise before riding off.