#but i needed something else short and sweet to bang out in the meantime

[honnelander]

asdfghjkl I love your writing. Your Sanji & reader have my heart forreal 🫶🏼✨ keep up the great work 😘

Suggestion: reader having a niche hobby (like knitting/crocheting, or collecting shells, anything really LOL ���� your choice) and Sanji’s reaction to that

you are soooo sweet thank you!! this request/suggestion was so cute, i loved it.

when i read "collecting shells" i immediately knew what i wanted to write for it and this is how i think go fish!Sanji would react to reader collecting sea shells as a niche hobby:

masterlist

When you had started collecting shells, it didn't start out as a hobby, far from it in fact. You didn't even know collecting sea shells was considered a hobby until Luffy pointed it out to you.

"Oh, wow! You collect shells y/n? How cool!" Luffy gushed with his signature bright smile that lit up his face. That's one of the things you loved about Luffy, he had the ability to make any rudimentary task seem like the most special thing ever. "What a cool hobby!"

And that was when your shell-collecting hobby was born. At first, you had just wanted a souvenir of some sort, just wanting a small piece of each island you visited so you could look back at your collection one day and remember all of the places you've ever been to.

It was something very special to you. So imagine how you felt when you nearly forgot to grab a shell one day, during a routine island pit stop to restock the ship's supplies, when the weather suddenly took a turn for the worst just as the straw-hat crew was making their way towards the ship.

You liked to grab a shell right before you left. Usually, you had your routine: you would go to the closest beach to where the Going Merry was docked at, take a moment to survey the assortment of shells scattered along the beach, and pick out the shell that most reflected your either long or short time on the island. You loved it.

But during that particular trip, your shell-collecting routine didn't go as planned and you nearly had a heart attack at the thought of missing a shell.

The weather had suddenly turned for the worst as you and the crew were walking back towards the Merry. All of a sudden, it started to downpour so everyone decided to run back to the ship as fast as they could before all of the ship's supplies got ruined (well, everyone except for Zoro, who was already back on the ship with his stuff, not wanting to stick around on any island longer than he had to).

As you all were running up the plank to board the ship one by one, Luffy suddenly called out to you from the dock as you tailed behind Nami with Sanji right behind you.

"Wait! Y/n!" he called out and you stopped at the top of the plank to look back at him through the rain. "What about your sea shell? Don't forget to go and grab one!"

You gasped and your eyes widened. Your heart nearly dropped at the thought of forgetting to grab a shell and in turn, forgetting all about your visit to this island. "My shell!"

"Your what?" Sanji asked loudly over the rain, next to you.

You quickly dropped your crate of supplies on the ship's deck, not caring anymore if they got wet or not. "I have to go get my sea shell!" you replied quickly, running past him and back to the dock.

"Don't worry, y/n, we will be waiting right here for you!" Luffy reassured with a nod. "Now go get your shell!" he yelled and raised his fist in the air.

You gave him a grateful smile as you dashed towards the nearest beach, Sanji watching you go with a curious look in his eye before bringing your supply crate inside and out of the rain.

That night, as Sanji was cleaning up the kitchen, you were still at the table finishing up the warm soup he had made that night for dinner (he loved that you were a slow eater, it meant that most nights he got to spend a little bit of extra alone time with you in his favorite place), he asked you about your niche hobby.

"Feeling better now?" Sanji asked, breaking the comfortable silence as he cleaned off one of his knives with a rag, sneaking a look at you with a small smile. "All warmed up from being out in the rain too long?"

You hummed in agreement. "Absolutely," you nearly purred in delight (Sanji felt his heartbeat stutter for a second at your tone. He's never heard you like that before). You looked at the chef with gratitude. "Your food always hits the spot Sanji, but the soup you made tonight just hit differently. It warmed me right up."

"Ok good," Sanji laughed softly, looking at you for a few seconds through his blonde hair, and flicked it to the side slightly. "I can't have you getting sick on me now." He finished cleaning off the one knife, setting it down on the counter, picking up another to clean before he asked with a raised brow, "So, uh, why did you go back today? Something about a sea shell?"

And that's how he learned about your niche hobby.

You told him all about it; about how you wanted a small token from everywhere you've ever been, how long you've been doing it, described some of your favorite sea shells you've found so far, and how you couldn't wait to show your collection to your kids and grandkids someday and in turn, telling them all about your adventures with the straw hat pirates.

As Sanji listened to you explain your hobby to him, he couldn't help but smile to himself, stealing glances at you every so often. He loved listening to you talk about the things you were passionate about. He loved the way your face lit up and your eyes sparkled.

And for something as unique and special as this? He loved it even more because he knew that this little hobby of yours went way beyond just collecting shells, it was your own way of physically manifesting your hopes and dreams. Each shell you acquired was another story you would tell your future kids about. You were sharing a part of your soul with him, and Sanji was completely enamored.

From that night forward, Sanji had decided that he too would start a sea shell collection of his own, without you knowing, so that someday in the future, he could surprise you and your kids with it, with the beautiful sea shells he had secretly collected right alongside you, his future wife, the whole time.

He couldn't wait to see the look on your face someday.

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Clone Wars) Fives x Reader: Gone

(Author’s Note:  Wow, okay, so this was a shelved project because when I started writing it, I saw something similar, so I scrapped this whole freaking fic.  Well, today I re-worked a few things and decided to share it...

-Months after Echo is pronounced dead, something blooms between you and your old friend-

Warnings:  Angst!  Some kissy kissy

Word Count: 1,509).

Link to Part 2

   There was a knock at the door to your quarters.  It was tentative, not at all like the loud bangs that usually signalled Fives’ presence on the other side.  Still, you knew it was him because he had commed you not too long before to announce his arrival on Coruscant.

   “Come in,” you called, quickly wiping your hands on your apron.

   The door slid open, and Fives entered wearing his full ARC trooper armor.  He was carrying a white box, the kind that usually contained baked goods.  You didn’t miss the way he paused at the doorway, brows raised as he took in the state of your apartment and you.  No doubt it was a change since the last time he’d been there.

   It was months since you found out that Echo was gone.  The loss had been difficult for both you and Fives.  Your apartment had fallen into disarray as you didn’t have the motivation to clean it.  Even mundane things like showering were difficult.  When Fives had last left you before a mission, you had been curled up on the couch with messy clothes and hair as well as a melancholic air about you.  He didn’t want to leave you again, but as always, duty called.  You insisted that you’d be alright, and that had been a few weeks ago.

   “Wow,” Fives said, lips turning up in a smile.  “The place looks great, and so do you.”

   “I figured it was time I got back on my feet,” you replied, setting the bowl of batter down.  “Decided to clean the place up before you got back.”

   “What’s cookin’?” he asked, nodding toward the bowl.

   “I was making a cake actually.  To celebrate your time on leave.”

   “You didn’t have to do that,” Fives said.  “But I won’t say ‘no’ to a slice or two.”

   “Or four.”

   He flashed you that stunning grin of his.  “You know me all too well, _________.  In the meantime, I actually brought some cookies from that bakery you like.”  He lifted the lid of the white box in his hands.

   “Oh, thank you,” you beamed, gladly snatching a cookie.  “That was sweet.”

   “Every time I pass by it, I think of that time me, you, and Echo went there for the first time.  Do you remember that guy?”

   “Who got so mad they didn’t get the right color icing on his pre-ordered cake that he threw it against the wall?”  You burst into laughter at the memory, Fives following.  You clutched your stomach as you tried to regain your composure.  “Those poor people behind the counter, though,” your voice quivered with the chuckle that threatened to spill out.  “I felt so bad.”  The sympathy was short-lived as you sputtered into another round of laughter.

   “It was pretty terrible,” Fives grinned.  “They sure do have good pastries, though.”

   “That, they do.”  You poured the cake batter into the pan.  Your hands had brushed against Fives’ as you transferred the pan to him, heart thudding faster as he slid the pan into the oven.

   Was it the laughs?  Was it the familiarity of his company?  There was, without a doubt, a change in the atmosphere after that.  Fives set the oven timer per your instruction and turned around to face you, resting his hip against the counter casually as he folded his arms across his armored chest.

   “Oh, did you want to get comfortable?” you asked.  “Or were you planning to go out with the guys tonight after this?”

   “Tomorrow night,” he said.  “I told them I had business to attend to this evening.”

   “Business?” you smiled.  “Well, I appreciate it.  But don’t feel like you have to stick around for me.  I’m doing alright.”

   “I also wanted to spend some time with you.”  He raised a brow.  “Is that allowed?”  The playful tone of his voice and expression made you chuckle.

   “As a matter of fact, it’s encouraged.” 

   “Good.  And you’re right, I’m going to get comfortable.”   Fives headed into the living area, beginning the process of removing his armor.  You ran a sponge across the counter to clean up some spilled batter.  “Want to watch a holomovie?”

   You nodded.  “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

   Not long after, the two of you were seated comfortably on the couch, the box of pastries opened up on the coffee table in front of you.  You were curled up in a blanket against his side with his arm draped across the back of the couch behind your head.  Every now and then, he’d turn to shoot you a smile or laugh at something on the screen.  About half an hour into the movie, you had to pause it and pull the cake out of the oven.  Fives volunteered to help you decorate it after the movie ended, but you shook your head with the knowledge that it was most likely a cover to sneak some of the icing ahead of time.

   Both of you returned to the couch, letting the holomovie play once more.  This time, you snuggled even closer to Fives.  He glanced your way for a moment before offering a smile and putting his arm around you.  The contact was so welcome.  It had been some time since you felt that way toward anyone, and even though you felt so safe and comfortable, it was unsettling.  What was this feeling?

   You’d spent the majority of the holomovie watching him instead, and somewhere towards the end, he seemed to pick up on it.  His gaze met yours curiously and held it for a minute or so before you finally acted.

   You leaned in and kissed him.  It was brief and left Fives a little stunned for a moment.  He seemed to get a hold of himself and react as you pulled away, chasing your lips with his own before they collided.  His hand came up to cup the back of your neck and draw you in even more.  The eagerness and the quiet strength with which he kissed you made you a little weak.

   The holovid had ended, leaving the room quiet except for the sound of your heavy breaths and kisses being exchanged.  So many feelings were swirling around in your chest; the thrill of each touch, the security you felt having his arms around you.  Something else was there- something that had been there all along, but was finally making itself known.

   It was love, you realized.  You loved Fives.  You always had love for him as one of your best friends, but since Echo’s departure, it had changed.  And judging by the way he wrapped his arms around you firmly, his kisses firm and needy, it seemed he felt the same.

   Yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, a little guilty voice whispered notions of betrayal.  Shame began to burn in your gut as the whispers grew louder and more accusatory.

   How could you do this to Echo?  And with his best friend?  Even if it had been some time since he was gone...

   You abruptly broke the kiss, hand flying to your mouth.  Fives stared at you with lips still parted and arms wrapped around your form.

   “S-sorry, I…”  Your gaze fell to the floor.  “I was thinking about-”

   “It’s alright,” he murmured, hugging you to his broad chest.  “I know.”  You sighed into the contact, wrapping your arms around his torso as you took comfort. 

   “I’m sorry,” you said again, eyes squeezing shut.

   “Don’t worry about it.  It was my fault for kissing you back.  I was too blinded by what I wanted to realize that you’re still grieving.  We can pretend it never happened.”  There wasn’t a hint of disappointment in his voice, and his complete understanding sent your heart fluttering.  He was putting your needs above his own without complaint.  It made him all the more attractive to you.

   You lifted your head from his chest to look up at him.  “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen, Fives.”

   His eyes locked with yours, confusion and yet a flicker of hope in their depths.  “What do you mean?”

   “I love you,” you confessed.  His eyes softened as he lifted a hand to brush his thumb along your cheekbone.  “This isn’t some impulsive thing to help me drown out my grief.  The truth is I love you.  And that’s why I feel terrible.”

   His other hand came up so that he was holding your face in his hands, gazing down at you so tenderly.  “That makes two of us,” he said.  “I love you too.”  The two of you embraced each other once more.  “I don’t think you should feel terrible.  I know Echo wouldn’t want that.  Either way, it’s okay.  We can wait.  When you’re ready for another kiss, just say the word.”

   “Okay,” you nodded against his shoulder, sniffling.

   The remainder of that evening was spent in his arms with another holomovie playing in the background, though neither of you paid any attention to it.  You were too busy holding each other and relishing in the company.

[sugar-petals]

hey angel (m)

♡  sub!felix + reader 

↳ The JYP Halloween party is ditched on short notice. That means: You have a down-to-celebrate boyfriend in full angel costume on your hands.

words. 5k 

tags. domestic au, finger sucking, hickeys, latex, corruption kink, fingering, vaginal sex, footjob, harnesses, cunnilingus, kitten antics, edging, aftercare 

★⎡CARO’S NOTE⎦› here goes the cutie on duty 👼

genre. domestic + smut/crack

„So sorry mate,“ Bang Chan’s voice resounds through the speaker. „I thought it could work but… We can’t celebrate tonight. Really sorry, Felix. Changbin and I already got dressed up too, but, you know things got shut down. JYP won’t let us with the Corona rules and stuff.“

„Oh no…“

„Yeah, man. Looks like we’ll have to do it next year.“

„You even prepared the food already, right?“

„We’re handing it out to staff and eat it at home. I know, it sucks. I spent half the morning in the kitchen. I can like keep the pumpkin cookies so you can eat them tomorrow after practice or so.“

„I feel so sorry Chan… and thank you.“

„I’ll be calling Hyunjin and Han now as well. Really sorry we’re cancelling short notice. I hope you’re still having a nice evening bro. Maybe we can make it happen for Christmas.“

„Okay. Cheers mate.“

„Yeah, cheers.“

Felix puts his phone down looking more than deflated in his angel costume, puffs out a big sigh. You can tell he really looked forward to this. Just an hour before, you bothered to sew the wings in place rather than rely on the wobbly back-pack like construction that came with it. 

They’re firmly attached to his white top now, and all for nothing. He glued them together by himself with a pack of synthetic feathers ordered on Etsy for a ridiculous shipping cost, along with a little halo that he clipped into his hair. Which, because maybe it really does sense his mood, dangles low and even a bit lopsided over his head.

„It’s the party of the year,“ Felix flops down on the living room couch. “I can’t believe this.“

You sit down opposite to him, starting to clean off the table where masses of cosmetic products and leftover feathers have piles up.

„Next time, Lixie. We can keep the costume. Poor Chan, he organized the living shit out of everything.“

„I’ll just go and shower, get this off, and stuff,“ he points at his face. Felix applied his own makeup with a little help from you here and there, including some golden sparkles. Just yesterday, he bleached his hair. It’s sculpted down to every strand with hair spray now. Felix unties his sneakers with the little gold stars on. Just before he starts plucking off his halo, you get an idea, pick up your phone from the table.

„Wait— Let’s at least make some pictures with your phone, you put so much effort in this. You look so cute. The fans might want to see it as well.“

„Oh! You’re right,“ Felix stops right in his tracks. „For Instagram.“

After tightening his sneakers again and you making sure the halo sights right, Felix walks around your flat in search for a nice backdrop. You follow, quickly flipping through some filters to try, and adjusting the flash on the camera.

After posing at the fridge — strange idea — and in the bathroom turns out a little awkward as well, you decide that such an elaborate costume needs a themed background, and only the bedroom offers just that. You recently changed the duvet to sky blue sheets with clouds on them. The overall interior is mostly clean white as well, with some thrifted vintage furniture. Fairy lights, heavy curtains, a wooden ceiling. Perfect.

„We’ll caption it as… post your own stay-at-home costume, something like that,“ Felix plops down on the bed, acting as if he just took a seat on the cloud in the very middle.

„Sounds pretty good,“ you press release, and the first picture pops up on your screen. „Can you turn a little towards the light? That the sparkles are showing.“

„Yay, I love the sparkles!“

„Just like this, just like this. Don’t move. The sparkles!“

A five-picture series of more snapshots ensues, with you adjusting Felix’s face a few times by hand, even, turning his chin by sheer millimeters to find the perfect angle. He’s stunning.

„I have another idea.“

„Oh?“

„I remember what I wore for Halloween three years ago. The costume must be somewhere. I think it fits together with yours.“

„What, oh wow?“

„What was it again, wait…“

You already begin to sort through your wardrobe, checking each hanger, each drawer, end up where you store your socks, and finally pull out a larger plastic zip bag from the very depths of all that chaos. There it is. Nice.

„Lix, if you’d turn around for me, please.“

He immediately does. Blushing.

„Thank you, angel.“

You pull off your sweat pants, your grey shirt, socks, your bra. Time to dress up. Only your simple black panties stay on. On goes a pair of scarlet stockings, snug and high. Then, a dark red latex skirt that goes in big circles and flounces, down to the mid-thigh. 

Added: A tight sleeveless peplum top that admittedly… and deliberately squeezes your boobs a little. Not too much. More important is that your nipples are showing right through, and the cleavage is sweeping, every demon would be salivating at your feet. If an angel does: Remains to be tested.

Around your waist and chest and over your shoulder goes a black harness, pulling everything together. Some very pointed, glossy pumps with thin heels complete the costume. They’re not crafted to be walked on in the very least, their balance is terrible. You’re planning something else with them. Cherry on top: Devil horn headband. Really curved and pointy, too. Can’t go wrong. You click your tongue and take a spin. The skirt flares out perfectly. Ready to go.

„Felix, time to turn around.“

He does. You can tell he didn’t cheat.

„You’re, you’re so hot in this,“ Felix buries his face right in the comfort of his sweater paws, hoping they would not give away his embarrassed little face. But — his voice does, effortlessly so.

„Come on, have a look at me. Real closely, angel, come. You’re allowed to.“

Felix gazes through his fingers with what sounds like a little meep! in a much more high-pitched tone than his usual speaking range. He’s cute.

„Hey pum’kin. Miss Lucifer speaking. Where’s the barbecue?“

Felix and you recently agreed that hell must be one big and extremely hot cave where everyone’s grilling and having a good time. Australia, essentially.

„Welp!“

„Damn right. Infiltrating God’s realm one cloud at a time. Any last words?“

„It’s so intimidating!“

Felix digs himself into a mountain of pillows on the bed, with only his eyes and nose peeking out. You shrug, adjust your horns.

„Hm. Time for my first satanic act I guess.“

„Oh no!“

„Wait just one minute, be a sweet and patient boy.“

You leave Yongbok confused given that you’re quick to hurry to the kitchen. However, what you return with puts a giggle on his lips right away.

„Boom. It is served.“

„Yes, yes, please!“

Poufy black cocoa cupcakes. The ones with the cute little ghost frosting on it, and the melted chocolate inside. Felix finds them irresistable since the last Halloween party, to the point where you bake them mid-July. The current set of cupcakes was meant to be a contribution to Bang Chan’s eerie and delectable buffet. As for now, they’re in deep need of someone hungry since you made a lot of them, assuming a post-workout Changbin would devour at least five or more.

„Good move,“ he admits, a little shaky, and you proceed to tray the cupcakes on the bed — stuffing Felix for a solid ten minutes until there’s chocolate all over his face. What you’ll be quick to confess is that you’ve been deliberately messy feeding him, with all the crumbs in particular.

„Spoiled honey bun,“ you plant a kiss on top of his head.

„These taste so good, I swear.“

Next up is Felix who has to carefully maneuver the sweet treats into your mouth without spoiling your outfit.

„If you get crumbs into my cleavage, I can’t put your face in there later you know.“

Fierce nodding.

„That’s the spirit.“

Under your eagle eyes, he proves to be an obedient little cherub doing his job pretty well. The cakes are delicious in how spongy they are, and the liquid chocolate warms up so well on the tongue, it melts even more. You’re more than pleased and have Felix store away the remaining four pieces only after quite a while.

„I’ll have them for Brekkie, woo!“ is what he’s fast to proclaim, and you agree he’ll need them the next morning. Once you’re done with him, that’s gonna count as a hangover even Chan’s wildest party couldn’t give him.

„We’re talking dinner first, Felix.“

At this point, all the sugar is kicking in. Or it’s the chocolate being some kind of aphrodisiac. Whatever, could be either, you’re feeling like you’re up there at the ceiling, and you’re not the only one. Felix coming back to the bedroom so bouncy and cutieful just gets you even more in the mood.

You sit at the edge of the bed, slanting backward just a little. „You look like you need some more corruption, I won’t lie,“ you pat your lap, beckoning. He can ditch wifi because this is his favorite hot spot waiting for him. Felix sits down looking tiny as ever, eyes full of anticipation and his pants full of… big fat late night erection.

„I don’t mind at all, Miss. I don’t, oh my god…“ he mumbles into his nonexistent Aussie trucker beard, and you’re clear that whatever the skirt did to him, his brain must be doing kangaroo somersaults right now. In the meantime, something very eager is poking right at your lower belly. Captain Boomerang already came fully armed tonight and the Suicide Squad isn’t even anywhere near to be seen.

„Oh hey hey, cupcake. Getting really big there,“ you wipe at the curled little corners of his mouth. Some crumbs come off. His lips already twitch the way you know they want to do naughty things on you. He doesn’t seem to notice. Autopilot Felix has already taken over.

„Don’t hurry with it,“ he stares, mouth half-open, but his little grinds prove him a dirty — in an entirely direct sense — fucking liar. Like he’s literally rubbing himself against your stomach.

„Boy oh boy. You’re not even trying.“

„I’m fucked!“ is what Felix soon realizes with the daggers you’re shooting at him through your hopefully very satanic-looking eyes right now. Alongside catching up with his darn hips doing their own thing.

„You are.“

„I’m sorry for grinding, God help me!“

„He won’t. Cuz I’m here on your cloud. Cue stage number two of my demonic plan. Safeword?“

„It’s chocolate!“

„Mh. Good pick.“

The rest as usual. Tapping the thigh, yellow for pause, towels plus water ready, and always double-checking the lube in case of Jisung putting a glass of vegemite under your bed as his latest practical joke. Yes, it happened. It’s a whole new level of demonic. On the other hand: perhaps Felix’ ass could’ve actually handled it, Made in Australia it is. 

„Let’s go honey angel,“ you curl at his hair with a little finger just to tease him a little more. The answer is a little meow, at this point Felix’ communication skills have simplified to kitten vocabulary which always happens when he is nervous and looking forward to something.

Next thing poor Felix knows, his face has entered the scorching satanic abyss that is your cleavage. Literally, you’re burning up. It’s fucking October and Felix has you breaking a sweat from all your horniness (literally, your horns are just that chic) already. Twice the reason to punish the shit out of him. If that can be considered anything near a punishment.

A shower of various „Mh— nh!“ and mewling noises comes to rain down on you while Felix face takes a trip down mammary lane, and that, too, is literal. He’s salivating. So much about rain. Actually, great lubrication. Felix always does things best by instinct.

„Yes, good boy. Great job.“

Now that his mouth is wet already, you’re unceremonious about shoving your fingers right down his throat after he resurfaces. Blushed, hard, and ready to choke himself since he’s already running short on breath. It doesn’t take long until he’s gagging himself stupid and the sparkles under his eyes start running.

„Pretty, pretty,“ you lean down a little, kissing his nose. „Give me all you got.“

„Gh—gch—“

The answer is as slobbery and unintelligible as can be. To a normal human, at least. You’re a demonic top. That automatically means having an Ivy League major in gag noise translation.

„Oh yes, I know,“ you stroke his hair, using your free hand that usually rests at the back of his neck. „Talk to me about it. Exactly what I was thinking. Do go on.“

And he does, louder than ever. If there’s one satisfying sound, it’s this, that heavenly deep voice doing all kinds of nasty acrobatics is making you go crazy. That Felix is absolutely close to cumming in his angel pants is very much clear to you given how the veins and muscles on his neck are having a chaotic Halloween party on their own.

Which includes his tongue taking turns on your two fingers as well. And a wide-eyed Felix struggling, swallowing, holding on to your shoulders with his little feet twitching in their sneakers. Like mad… and you love it. But also — hopelessly sucking and moaning and slurping and squealing until his neck has way too much saliva on it for you not to make it your next target. Felix is so good at this. Way too good.

„Looks delicious,“ you lean in, your hair tickles his ears. And now, you’re busy nibbling, biting a little… and most importantly, giving Felix a wet hickey that will send his makeup artist — my God, you really torture the unsuspecting man almost weekly — into a meltdown. Rowdy and unholy is the look you’re going for.

In the meantime, Felix is still wrapped up trying to hit your fingers at the back of his throat. If his cute bouncy run and rude boner moment didn’t turn you on already, now you would be. The way he’s just sucking in his own spit makes you realize that you won’t ever need a fire brigade for your flat.

You emerge from his neck and raise your brows. Felix is just hard-wired to impress. „Just how much saliva can you produce!“

„Ch… Mnh— Nh…“

Hitting some more complex syntax and consonants there, is he.

„Oh, I get it now. You stayed hydrated during the day. Thanks for explaining, mate. That’s the secret.“

Whether that’s perfectly scientifically correct down to the enzyme theory and shit neither of you can google right now. At least you know that you’re both drenched on either end so that’s that.

Once Felix is so horny from deepthroating your damn hand that he has pull off and yellow-word, you’re already prepared for introducing a new position which you can prepare while he’s gathering himself and wiping off his chin. You hand him a second towel for his neck, and present him a little hand mirror to see how the hickey turned out.

„It’s shaped like, hm,“ he pants, words still slurring a little. „I dunno! It’s really cute!“

„Let me see… No doubt that’s a rice cake hickey. That’s the shape.“

„You’re right!“

And off he goes snapping a selfie with it while you get comfortable on your back, cleaning your own fingers.

„Just don’t upload that one to Insta instead of the cloud shots, we’re not gonna survive another Manager call at 1:15 AM.“

„Can I use your phone for it? That’s where it’s supposed to be on, anyway.“

Felix giggles a little. That cute brat. Always knowing how it’s done.

„Sure babe!“

And voilà, Felix is already occupied setting a good view of his new rice cake-shaped friend as your phone background. Good thing, helps his erection cool down a little, he was about to blow up his poor white pants. The acceptable unfair feat being that he’s just riling you up even more like that on the other hand.

„If you come to mommy now,“ you wriggle one foot in the air, the other splayed on the duvet, knee slightly bent. „Rubbing her pussy and doing your thing, you know how it goes.“

„Angel duties calling! What am I doing!“

At the speed of sound, Felix stores your phone back on the bedside table and crawls over in an instant. He props his chin on your abdomen and blinks.

„Sorry Ma’am. At your service. Never wanna keep you waiting.“

A big smile rouses his cheeks, and you boop them from either side. His peach fuzz is so soft and his eyes are so beautifully dark. You don’t waste any time keeping your skirt down for any longer. Another blink and Felix is already pawing — well, kneading and caressing technically — between your legs. He’s visibly understanding just how wet the whole finger sucking circus has left you now.

„What if I used my heels on your cock, boo. Still no cumming. Just my heels and my lil’ prince.“

Satanic plan stage number three. Felix has gotten to savor it last Christmas and for his birthday, and some time around the holidays in summer.

„I love it yay!“ Felix claps his hands. Baby, baby.

„C’mere then. Just keep on rubbing.“

His arms are fairly long enough. While you’re dragging the slender heels of either shoe right across the outlines on his crotch, Felix, eyes loosely closed, maintains a steady rhythm on your clit with three fingers lined up on the fabric of your panties.

„Oh fucking hell, Felix, shit—“

Whenever you masturbate, that alone would never do. You’d get frustrated after a while. Need more stimulation. But when Felix is on angel duty to keep your pussy soaked, it doesn’t need much to make your clit throb, even with your underwear still on. Guess that God’s little helpers know how to work their magic to make your head spin.

He’s hitting the right spot, with the right moves, and his other hand doesn’t miss out on a single opportunity to stroke at both the in- and outside of your thighs. The touch is so subtle, you twitch. Felix strokes on, delirious himself. His eyelids flutter.

„Fuck…“

Despite the little pause from earlier taking out most of his tension, your heels leave Felix with pants that are even more bulged out. That’s making it easy to direct your feet to jerk up and down at either side. You’d never know either of you would be so into this. Foot fetish and all.

Once he’s edged you to the point of moans, last thing you properly remember is calling it quits with the panties and telling him to line himself up. The heels kicked off, the skirt still on, you decide that unpacking your Halloween treat has been long overdue. You slide his pants down, roll down a pink condom, and grab his cock at the base to glide it all over your wet lips.

„Lix, come fuck me. You got me all horny. Satan is recruiting.“

„With me it’s not sinning,“ he smiles, brighter than the sun and you do right along. It’d be hard not to. Felix truly has the innocence of a virgin, the subtle confidence of an intermediate, the caution of a pro, and the kindness of a real veteran.

„You’re right about that Felix,“ you say, prop your entrance at the very tip, let the wetness do its job. „Come kiss your honey girl.“

And he does. Entering you with care for the right angle, letting your hip do the rest. What’s been circling and sucking your fingers so deliciously is now doing a hot job teasing and pleasing your tongue all over. His lips are amazingly soft and plump, they open so gently and feel electric on yours. A gentle squeeze around your left breast sparks a moan into the kiss from you. It’s Felix massaging your breasts while deepening his penetration, and you can tell the vegemite can stay under the bed today. You can tell Felix is getting more than flustered knowing it was all him who made you this dripping wet.

Even his dick seems to blush in sync. It’s fucking pink and red. Oh wait, that’s the condom. But knowing him and from your viewpoint, it’s still more flushed than before, no kidding. Faithfully pumping in and out of you at its full length now. You wrap your legs around his waist, the thrusts become deeper, shorter, parting you open much more, and filling you out so properly.

„So good. Right there, angel. Just right there. I’m loving that.“

Felix has a great dick. Best handy size, the girth’s comfortable, all nice and bendy, virtually no curve, you can always gyrate on it in any way and even take a complete 180 if you go from cowgirl to reverse (which you’d be doing right now but he’d crush his wings if he were on his back like that so no). Cherry on top, compact but soft balls that don’t steal the show but still do the trick during doggy. They’re whipping up the best cum in the world, so.

The slow kissing goes on and on and Felix tries to walk the tightrope of neither letting your pussy lips suck the orgasm out of him, nor making you cream his cock with shaky legs from all that gorgeous sloppy friction, and the kissing, and his sweet cherry shampoo scent that has your brain in absolute limbo.

With everything hanging by a thread like that, every kiss becomes special and full of a suspense that makes your lips tremble — either set, and Felix can hardly bear it himself.

His little halo is dangling back and forth, and you can tell by his face that all that thrusting has him in serious trouble. And you? Are fucking leaking and groaning, and that little shallow series of first contractions before your orgasm is already preparing you.

The sugar high from the cupcakes is fading, but your adrenaline is sure to replace it. You just want Felix to fuck you more and rock against him, and hold his head, and kiss him. God, his mouth is so warm and inviting, tastes so good like cocoa.

The pace joins yours without any effort, it adapts when your rhythm changes, and it stabilizes everything when you’re currently riding the high of his cock really filling you out so you can clench your muscles around him, feel him and tell him just you wait, I’ll milk you. He’s such a good kisser. You can feel all of your wetness running down your ass like it’s Christmas.

„Felix, I’m overflowing.“

„I’m so sorry,“ he whines into the kiss. „I’ll be washing the sheets.“

„Listen, baby,“ you break the tongue-on-tongue, „you doing laundry is really sexy. But the overflow is the best part. Just look what you’re doing to my body.“

You could ravage him on the spot. He’d probably lose it and cum in two seconds. Holding yourself before the edge is so tough right now.

„Shit… yellow again. Need a moment.“

Felix has to resort to a bit of cockwarming, and you use the little break to rid yourself off the harness. It’s not perfectly comfortable when you’re lying down. You’re about to fling it off the bed that Felix asks to wear it. Oh. Very well. It actually goes as a nice contrast on his white top, and the straps make it easy to adjust to him. And he wants it to sit on him really tightly. Oh again.

You realize—

On you, it’s only a fashion piece. Something random that came with the costume.

On him: It’s kinky.

„Hey hey. You look sexy, pum’kin,“ you pat at his chest. „Look at your waist, wow.“

Your sweet boy. It’s like it’s made for him. So cinched and the exact opposite of his costume. He’s a corrupted, dirty angel now, it’s perfect. With his pink neck and all sweaty face, and his little puppy gaze that will haunt you in your sex dreams because it literally just gets into your pants so much. Oh god, you just wanna cum. You have to distract yourself with chaste images of Felix washing the dishes or writing grocery lists with little hearts and emojis on them but that just makes it five times worse.

The way he puts the harness on with his dick inside you is so mouthwatering and cumworthy, you can’t wait to resume and switch your own brains off on that angel cock. Once Felix is ready to exit phase yellow and resume the session, your hands magically gravitate towards the straps of the harness at this waist.

„Can I?“

„M—hm!“

You have the time of your life grabbing and guiding him by the harness, controlling every thrust. Felix clenches up his teeth from how lavishly his cock is squeezing into your pussy.

„Oh babe,“ you groan out. „Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Come on, angel.“

He’s not going to take it much longer. Felix is tensing all over, neck to the knees, it’s a huge shock wave in the making. That climax is going to be like a fucking punch into outer space.

„I’m really at my limit, I’m, I’m…!“

„Cum for me, angel,“ you reach to his neck to bring his lips down again. Your mouths going into shaky contact brings a big soaring moan with it.

„Ahn—!“

You lock lips, his face scrunches up, and you can tell that cum worth of three orgasms is currently pooling into the condom. You don’t belong to the mile high club, but going by how far up this feels, you might as well be. Those sweet shivers. And the little whines. It’s all too much for him, this one got him bad. Felix cumming is like the angels really are singing. With bells and harps and all that shit at once.

After pulling out, the ruined condom goes off lightning fast. Felix’ cock gets some much-needed cooling, but his face is on heavy duty. How he does it after almost getting his lights turned off, it’s a mystery, it must have been six whole loads he shot into you. You’d already be collapsing in his shoes. Felix still being able to put his mouth to work is an act of divine intervention. Honestly though, it doesn’t even take half a minute. Sloppy head from Felix is cryptonite, your stamina comes tumbling down. His tongue just knocks you out with an overwhelming rush of pleasure.

“Oh— yes...”

What is gravity? You don’t know what north and south mean anymore. He laps and sucks you through your high and your legs give up their soldier service. All you see it fluffy blonde strands of hair peeking from below your skirt, a glimpse of the harness, the rest is heavy growling and swearing from all of the contractions and Felix getting raw and dirty Down Under with no fears, literally none, to bury his face and move it around and let his tongue loose. Time and again Felix shows you he’s a swallower. Satanic agenda: success.

For tonight, your pussy will be nothing but glitter, cum, and spit. Swollen like crazy, properly fucked, and tipped to the absolute limit. Felix keeps on slicking up his face completely, and then brings you into the afterglow with his fingers. One at a time, barely adding stimulation. Just fetching you where you are and climbing down. Looks like you’ll share the cupcakes, this is a couple hangover in the making. In Felix’ case in particular. It’s like he signed up for testing a mad scientist’s latest designer drug.

„Wow wow… So you served me choco cupcakes and God’s menu,“ is the last thing he can say in his delirium before falling over. He’s so fucked out and went so wild on eating you, a part of the harness came off. Thank god his nose is so small, all that swiping could’ve broken the bridge and whatnot. And his lips, they’re twice as plump. You really have to compliment in on what his mouth has done today because that was some champ shit.

You’re both buffering on the sheets for a solid five minutes until you roll to the side. Towel… water… forehead kisses. Yes, forehead kisses most importantly. After gathering yourself a little, you pamper Felix into a heart rate around 90 rather than 120. And with the onset of exhaustion for the two of you, that’s not too hard after some minutes passing. Whispering sweet nothings and praise is all you do up until 2 AM and after. Felix is somewhere between worlds, one foot in the door of the dreamland, the other soaking up the care and the intoxicating, thick scent of the room that has a lot of cherry shampoo in it.

At some point. You loosen the harness, pull off his shirt with the wings attached. The halo you unsuccessfully try to spot in his hair. Turns out: It flew off. Felix really must’ve made Satan proud if it fell down just like that. Good job. Felix has earned a title of being a dirty angel now, and by the way he’s chugging water now, a wet one on top of that.

Five tons of spit, six, seven, who knows how many he’s afforded for today. A head pat is not enough, it has to be several, and Felix passes out onto the pillows. As good as you can, you wipe him down, bin the condom, get off his shoes and his half-pulled down trousers. After staggering to the bathroom, your skirt and peplum shirt follows, the stockings stay on, they’re cozy as hell. Last but not least, you remove your devil horns. It feels like they granted you the most unknown demonic powers.

Next time Felix is on his way to making you cum again, you’ll be wearing them, and you’ll last the way you did tonight. Meanwhile, Bang Chan is blowing up your phone because Felix pressed send by accident earlier, but you don’t notice. It just keeps on vibrating on the bedstand and Chris will have to riddle over the rice cake selfie for the rest of November.

Felix dozes with an angelic little smile on his lips and puffs his cheeks in his sleep, his makeup wiped and his hair truly messy. Instagram can wait. Maybe you’ll get to brush your teeth a little later, it usually takes some time until you wake up again and topple to the sink. You huddle together, tuck your sweet baby pum’kin into his second favorite spot at your chest. Ah, the glory of Felix little spooning.

As the last signature, you nibble at his ear, call him your cutie pie, and switch the lights off. You have to listen closely but if you do, it’s like Felix is purring in his sleep. Whatever your own dreamland is planning to launch on you tonight, you’re looking forward to it.

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. reposts, modifications and translations are prohibited. character depictions are fictional & for entertainment purposes only.

PS — oh, my good ole fellas, a last cursed disclaimer. i must insist on the following for obvious reasons. vegemite makes for some terrible strap lube okay 😂🇦🇺

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[mostlycompetentwriter]

TMT One-Shot

F/M Pairing: Y/N x 3racha (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 8K

Genre: High School AU

Warnings: Lots of smut and language; mentions of alcohol

Summary: Y/N is the shy, awkward girl who can’t talk to boys while doing her best to exist as a shadow throughout her high school life. Her two brothers, Minho and Felix, are the complete opposite. Minho is the cool, suave music addict who wants to be in his own band one day, while Felix is the stereotypical popular kid whose best friend, Han Jisung, tirelessly trails after his friend’s older sister. However, despite their differences, the three siblings share a very close relationship and Y/N considers them to be her only real friends. 

One day, Minho brings home two classmates from his community college and Y/N realizes, for the very first time, that the sweet taste of desire is highly addictive.

When my mother died, I was only 10-years-old. She slipped away like a ghost, quietly and without notice, and I was left feeling broken on the inside. If I was a therapist, unlike the contemptuous older woman who always spoke to me with a condescending tone, I’d likely attribute the traumatic event to the person I started to become. 

Instead of bouncing back from her death like my brothers Minho and Felix, I started to feel sad all the time. Accordingly, I lost many of the friends I met in Elementary school because I chose to sit quietly in my classes when I didn't feel like talking to anyone else. Likewise, I also declined their invitations to visit their houses or ride with their parents to the movie theaters. Actually, I exchanged those friendships for the solitude of my bedroom at home where I usually spent the evening staring vacantly at the ceiling while trying not to cry anymore.

Yeah, I guess it was kinda my fault.

Overtime, my status evolved from the kind, amiable Y/N who everyone at school admired, to the sullen and despondent weird girl who sometimes spoke to imaginary friends. I spent recesses inside with my teachers, helping them clean the whiteboard. During lunch, I sat alone with my school tray and thought about how my mother used to pack my lunches for me because I complained about the mystery meatloaf....Oh, right, thinking about my mother inevitably made me feel sad again and sometimes I cried at school in front of my classmates. 

Needless to say, my youth wasn’t exactly as voracious as my peers...or even my brothers for that matter. Actually, Minho and Felix were perfectly normal because they mourned our mother’s death for several months before inexplicably moving on as if it had never happened. Thereafter, Minho developed a passion for music and my father allowed him to take guitar and piano lessons after school. Felix started to play sports and he was quite good at baseball despite his smaller stature. Likewise, in between classes, I heard my classmates frequently gossiping about my brothers: mysterious and alluring Minho who all the older girls adored, and popular and beloved Felix who was the envy of our classmates. 

I didn’t mind being considered an outsider in comparison to my brothers because they still treated me like a friend. In fact, my brothers and I were extremely close, especially after our mother’s death. Despite my introverted tendencies, Minho and Felix often went out of their way to include me in their activities. For example, Minho liked to offer his demos as background music for the raunchier parties in our town and he always begged me to come along and hear his new songs. My older brother was so incredibly talented that I rarely refused his offers, finding myself sitting next to Felix in the backseat of Minho’s car while we drove across town to the wealthier districts. I would spend the rest of the night hanging around my brothers while listening to Minho sing about everything from his ex-girlfriends to the pot he liked to smoke with some of the younger guys.

In any case, I could always count on my brothers to liven my spirits, which might explain why I was so uncomfortable when Minho graduated and applied for University. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing because Minho was only driving thirty minutes everyday to attend his classes and he still lived at home. But it still felt like an unwanted change, and I wasn’t sure how to cope with my brother’s sudden desire to build a studio in the basement of our childhood home while he brought new classmates to fawn over his equipment.

Thankfully, I managed to avoid the unfamiliar faces, and I started spending more time with Felix. Unfortunately, spending time with Felix inevitably forced me to endure the endless pandering from some of his more unsavory acquaintances. For example, when I wanted to play video games one afternoon, I knocked twice on Felix’s door only to find myself in the company of someone who was decidedly the complete opposite of my brother. His name was Han Jisung, and he was Felix’s best friend. “Y/N,” he said quietly, sheepishly attempting to fix the mop on top of his head. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, glancing over Jisung’s shoulder. “Where’s Felix?”

“Bathroom,” Jisung said, pointing at the door. 

I groaned. “Are you busy?”

“We’re never too busy for you,” Jisung smirked, but he always flirted with me shamelessly as if he didn’t care that I was Felix’s older sister.

I ignored Jisung when I walked into Felix’s bedroom, finding a relatively clean spot on his bed to wait for his return. In the meantime, Jisung lingered by the doorway, watching me with those ridiculous dark eyes. “I heard Minho made another demo.”

“He’s always making demos,” I replied, wondering why Felix was determined to take his time for once.

“Yeah, but he’s really proud of this one.”

“Minho thinks he’s a genius,” I said. “If you were to ask him, then every song he made would be a masterpiece.”

“Well, he’s the reason why I've started to pursue music.”

“You?” I scoffed, finding the idea of Jisung as a creator of anything other than enormous messes on the kitchen counter to be nothing short of hilarious. “Jisung, you can’t even finish your math homework.”

“That’s not true!” Jisung protested. “It’s just not that interesting, and I like music so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’ll find something else to like in a few months,” I said, watching as he frowned with that ridiculous pout he always wore when he wasn’t getting his way.

“Yeah? Well, when my first mixtape comes out,” Jisung grumbled. 

“I’ll be the first one asking for an autograph,” I teased him, rolling my eyes when he sat next to me and held up his pinky finger.

“Promise?”

“Fine,” I sighed before trying to move further away from Jisung.

He didn’t allow the space for very long, sliding right up against me without any traces of his previous frustrations. “Y/N,” Jisung said, hand reaching out for my shoulder. “There’s a party this Friday.”

“I’m not in the mood for a party,” I said. “I have a lot of homework this weekend, and-”

“Actually, Minho invited us,” Felix interrupted, and I didn’t even realize that my brother had returned. I was also surprised to see Minho behind him, stretching his arms above his head like he had forgotten to sleep again last night.

“You’re going too?” I asked Minho.

“It’s Chan’s party,” Minho explained. “He’s playing some of my demo tracks.”

“Bang Chan,” I repeated, narrowing my eyes because I had heard my brother mention that name dozens of times. Actually, if I didn’t know any better, then I would think Minho had some kind of infatuation with his new college friend.

“I think Minho is in love,” Felix teased, dodging Minho’s playful swing before he joined Jisung and I on the edge of his bed.

“He’s just a friend from one of my lectures,” Minho said. 

“Minho also thinks he’s a genius,” Felix whispered to me, but it was loud enough for our brother to overhear. 

“You like him too,” Minho protested.

“Felix met him?”

“Last week,” Felix beamed. “Minho and I ran into him on the way to get coffee. Your lazy ass was still asleep at 12:00.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled. “I stayed up late to finish an essay.”

“College will kick your ass, Y/N,” Minho said. “If you can’t survive high school literature...”

“I get it,” I groaned. “I don’t want another lecture.”

“Good, but you’re still coming to the party because I want you to meet Chan and hear your brother’s masterpiece.”

“Please stop calling your mixtape a masterpiece.”

“I’ll consider it,” Minho smirked, “as long as I see you at Chan’s house this Friday.”

“This is considered blackmail, Minho,” I sighed. “But fine, I’ll need the time and address, please.”

I stood on the porch in the frigid cold wearing a party dress that might’ve been overkill, and I had a desire to return to my house because nobody was answering the door. Actually, when I really thought about it, this complex was too nice for a college student, unless Chan had discovered Blackbeard’s treasure or something. I snorted at my own joke, waiting impatiently for someone to let me inside because my brothers weren’t responding to my text messages. 

The music sounded faint from behind the door, which made me wonder if Minho had given me the wrong address. It wouldn’t be the first time that my brother gave me some kind of misinformation, but I thought he really wanted me to come tonight and hear his music. “Hello!” I yelled, banging my fist against the door. “Minho? I’m leaving in exactly ten seconds if nobody lets me inside!”

I started the countdown in my head, jumping up and down to warm my muscles, when a sudden expulsion of heat relieved the tension slowly numbing my fingers. “There you are,” Felix said with a drunken smile.

“Isn’t too early for you to be plastered?”

Felix giggled. “They’re playing Minho’s music next.”

“Well, let me inside you asshole,” I said, pushing my way into the house because my brother had clearly forgotten that it was basically snowing outside.

“What do you think?” Felix asked. “It’s pretty nice.”

“I can’t see anything,” I complained, narrowing my eyes since it was difficult to notice the details when the house was packed wall to wall with intoxicated college students. The lights were also dimmed, which meant that walking was an unnecessary chore as Felix took my hand and brought me into the kitchen where he promised Minho was waiting.

At least he wasn’t fully incapable. 

“Y/N,” Minho grinned, tossing an arm around my shoulder as he pulled me closer, allowing me to smell the nasty liquor on his breath.

“Drunk at your mixtape reveal party?”

Minho laughed. “I haven’t had much.”

“Felix has,” I said, grimacing when I spotted my younger brother bouncing from person to person with an unmaintainable energy.

“Let him have fun,” Minho said. “I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Whatever, but he’s your responsibility in the morning when he’s suffering from a hangover.”

“I’ll handle it,” Minho reassured me. “Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Oh?”

“Chan! Get your ass over here!”

“What a good friend you are,” I remarked, and I was fully prepared to tease my brother further until I realized that Minho was waving down one of the most attractive men I had ever seen.

Chan was absolutely gorgeous, appearing nothing short of debauched under the low-hanging lights of the kitchen. Neatly styled blonde-hair parted down the middle, and bright blue eyes that held the stars inside an endless sea of black. “Are you guys having fun?” he asked with an accent that I couldn’t place.

“The place is fucking awesome, man,” Minho said, wrapping an arm around Chan’s shoulders as he nodded in my direction. “This is my sister,” Minho said with a proud smile. 

“Hello,” I said, cringing at my tone.

“Y/N,” Chan smiled, and I decided that nobody could ever say my name again with such a sexy tenor.

“You have a lovely home,” I said, swallowing hard when Chan leaned in closer. 

“Minho talks about you a lot,” Chan said with a smirk. “Do you want something to drink?”

I nodded without thinking, keeping my eyes trained on his beautiful visage as a beer slipped into my hand. “Pace yourself,” Minho warned me, but I ignored him as I swallowed down the bile-tasting liquid.

“I like her,” Chan nodded, looking at me seductively from over the top of his bottle.

“She’s a bit uptight,” Minho chuckled, and I glared at him because this was not the time to embarrass me. “Are my songs playing next?”

“I’ll make sure everything is ready,” Chan said, giving me one last lingering look.

“Let’s find a good place to hear everything,” Minho suggested, and I followed my brother with thoughts and fantasies consumed by Bang Chan.

Minho’s mixtape was really good, and I begrudgingly congratulated my brother and even allowed him to tell everyone that it was, in fact, a masterpiece. However, while my brother was distracted by a group of younger fan-girls, I slipped away to try and find somewhere peaceful to recover from my headache. It had developed sometime between the pounding bass line of “BEWARE” and the aggressive tone of “Boxer.” 

I paused next to the foyer where there were considerably less people. In fact, only one student lingered next to the open window, and I leaned against the wall as I closed my eyes against the distinct ringing in my ears. Next time, I would wear earplugs when Minho forced me to stand at the speakers.

“You’re not going to pass out, right?”

I blinked several times as the room swam into focus. “I’ll probably make it.”

“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” the rough voice continued, and I finally addressed the hooded figure standing at the window. I realized that he was smoking, holding the bud of the cigarette outside so that the ashes collected somewhere on the porch. “I’m Changbin,” he smirked. 

“Oh,” I cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I share the window?”

He shrugged, tossing his hood back so that I could see the way his black hair fell flat against his head. “Sure.”

I carefully felt my way along the wall until the generous cold breeze was hitting my flushed skin. “Thank god,” I groaned, practically forcing my head outside.

“Drink too much?”

“A combination of that and the music.”

“I heard a rumor that the beer was definitely spiked,” he said, dark eyes looking me over. “You’re obviously new here.”

“I’m with my brother,” I offered cautiously in response to his sudden advances.

“Do I know him?”

“Lee Minho.”

Changbin’s eyes widened. “We’re in the same music composition lecture. I thought he mentioned you in class.”

“He invited me,” I continued, but I didn’t understand why I felt the need to justify myself to him.

“I bet he did,” Changbin nodded. “Why would he hide you from us?”

I shivered. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Is that right?” he asked before cornering me against the wall with a hungry gaze. “You hear the song playing?”

I nodded. “It’s loud.”

Changbin chuckled. “I made it.”

I nodded again because that certainly explained the explicit lyrics. “It’s...interesting?”

“Yeah?” Changbin purred. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I gasped, feeling one of his hands grab me around the waist.

His lips brushed against mine, soft and sensual, while he inhaled deeply. “Y/N, is this your first party?”

“No,” I whispered because it suddenly felt like we were the only two people left in the room.

“I just assumed,” he said. “From the way you’re reacting.”

“W-what?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you wanted to go someplace else with me,” Changin said.

I was completely baffled by his assumption, searching for the right words, but they never came. However, the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat forced us apart, and I was surprised to see Chan standing so close. “I guess you’ve met Minho’s little sister,” Chan said and I hated how immature the introduction sounded. 

“She made sure to tell me,” Changbin smirked. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

“He’s looking for her,” Chan continued, and I was confused by the hostility in his tone. “You probably shouldn’t do anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Changbin retorted, planting one of his hands next to my head. “She’s feeling sick. Tell Minho I can take her home.”

“He won’t like that.”

“Oh? Is anyone else sober?”

Chan was quiet for a moment, eyes darting between the two of us. “Wait here.”

“What a good host,” Changbin snarked, but Chan was already walking away and I was starting to feel the effects of my alcoholic consumption darken the edges of my vision.

My brother was nothing short of incoherent, swaying back against Chan as he tried to give me a stern look. “Y/N, I hope you didn’t drink too much.”

“Really?” I snorted. “Isn’t that hypocritical?”

Of course, my admonishment had no effect on Minho. “Chan said that you were feeling sick.”

“It’s just a headache,” I said, although my churning stomach seemed to suggest otherwise.

“I thought I could take Y/N home,” Changbin interrupted. “I guess she could use some fresher air.”

“Sure,” Minho nodded, eyes glassy. “I don’t mind.”

Minho was readily willing to entrust his sister into the care of someone she had just met, and that’s when I knew that he couldn’t be trusted to take me anywhere. “Is that what you want?” Chan asked.

I shrugged because it might be nice to finally escape the endless drumming of Chan’s intricate sound system. “I might be saving myself some trouble.”

“I need more cigarettes,” Changbin said. “I’m running low and I know there’s a store near Minho’s house.

I frowned, but figured that Minho had brought Changbin over to our house before during that brief phase at the start of his college semester when I saw a new face in the basement every week. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“As long as you behave,” Chan warned him quietly, but I never had the opportunity to question him before Changbin was forcing us both outside onto the main porch where the snow was starting to build along the sidewalks.

“This way,” Changbin said, resting one of his hands against my lower back as he guided us down the street.

Changbin’s car was a very old model and the paint was starting to peel from the doors. He helped me inside slowly, reaching for my seat-belt before I slapped his hands out of the way because I could manage to do that by myself. He chuckled at my glare. “Comfortable?”

I nodded in response and waited for him to turn on the ignition before I was savoring the accompanying blast of heat even though it smelled distinctly of ashes. “Minho’s little sister,” Changbin said, eyes focused on the road in front of him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I replied because the growing distance between us and Chan’s party music was actually nice. “I guess the music gave me a headache.”

“That’s how Chan likes it,” Changbin said. “He’s gotten at least a dozen noise complaints from this past month alone.”

“How many parties does he have!”

Changbin smirked. “He likes to keep his house full.”

“It might’ve been too much tonight,” I said, leaning my head against the cold window. “I’ve never seen so many people.”

“Exams,” Changbin said. “When college students feel stressed, they like to get shitfaced.”

“But you’re not drunk.”

“Who said that I was stressed?”

His tone was strangely flirtatious, especially when he looked at me. “You didn’t have to help me, you know?”

“I know, but it was my window we were sharing,” Changbin said. “You looked like you were seconds away from crashing.”

“I can take care of myself,” I replied, even though it was rather harsh to criticize someone who was currently neglecting the speed limit to take my home as quickly as possible. “When did you meet Minho?”

“A few weeks ago,” Changbin said. “We worked on a project together.”

“I guess you’ve already been to my house.”

“Yeah, but I sure as hell don’t remember seeing you.”

“I don’t really like to socialize with most of my brother’s friends.” 

“Well, that explains a lot,” Changbin said, briefly glancing at me. “Are you that type? The unattainable girl next door?”

“I just don’t like people,” I grumbled, but Changbin seemed to think it was funny, laughing at my expense while reaching down to turn on the radio despite the fact that music had caused my headache in the first place.

Of course, I didn’t want to be that type, so I endured his self-promotion, listening to his gravelly voice suspend the entire car into some kind of hip-hip haven. He talked his way through the introductions of every song on his mixtapes, bragging about his compositions and arrangements. “It’s all about authenticity,” he explained when we finally pulled into my driveway.

“Is that so?” I sighed, frowning when I realized Felix had forgotten to turn on the front porch light.

“I guess I should wait until you’re inside,” Changbin chuckled.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching out for the door handle.

“Woah! Baby, where are you going?” Changbin asked, and I quickly returned my hands to my lap. “Are you trying to get away from me?”

“No,” I shook my head, breathing heavily when he reached for my thigh.

“You probably don’t hear this a lot,” Changbin continued. “But you’re really sexy.”

I startled at his words. “Thank you?”

“I mean it, Y/N,” he continued, fingers inching along my thigh like it was free real estate. “Thank god you wanted to share my window.”

I shook my head rapidly when he turned off the ignition, navigating the waistband of his panties to drag his hand against my sensitive core. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

“I’m trying to make you feel good,” he said. “Do you want me to?”

I nodded this time, waiting with my fists balled against the leather seats while he penetrated the soft walls of my core, moving in and out slowly to help me adjust to his fingers. I tried to relax, dropping my shoulders and controlling the way I was panting in desperation for more of the addicting feeling he was creating in my lower abdomen. It all felt entirely scandalous, feeling the way his fingers dragged across my insides, curling against the most responsive parts and watching me with an intensity that I could barely tolerate. I was moaning for him, calling his name softly because he was starting to increase his movements, and I focused on the way his wrist reappeared from underneath my skirt before losing itself in a sea of denim fabric.

“It’s wet,” he remarked, and the sounds of his penetration were growing louder, intermingling with my rapid breaths and the dark tone of his voice. “I can feel it.”

I knew what he meant because my entire body was pulsing in time to the pace in which he played with me. It was like I was his personal experiment, testing how I reacted to certain touches, especially when he crooked his fingers and a moan would displace the temporary quiet. “Changbin,” I whined, reaching for his arm because everything was starting to feel overwhelming.

“I got you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me, Y/N, I’m not gonna stop until you cum.”

I orgasmed at his filthy words, falling down from the place he sent me and into a deep headspace. He pulled his fingers back, holding them up so that I could clearly see the evidence of my release in the faint light from the street lamp outside. “You didn’t expect that,” Changbin said calmly, reaching for a tissue from the backseat while I tried to figure out what just happened. “I don’t really care who your brother is,” he continued, moving in close. “I think we should fuck next time.” 

“Changbin,” I said, “if Minho finds out-”

“Why are you always worried about him?”

“He’s my brother!”

“Oh? Well, in that case, since you want to be good for your older brother,” Changbin smirked. “I guess I’ll have to find a different way to see you again.”

The next morning, I took a shower because I could still feel traces of Changbin’s touches between my thighs. The water was hot, fogging up the mirrors and making it difficult to breathe. It was necessary because I could function better when I re-emerged with fresh clothes and a sudden hunger for those little chocolate muffins my mom bought at the store.

I walked downstairs, noticing Felix and Jisung both sitting at the counter while they talked over their breakfast. Felix noticed me first, watching as I grabbed a leftover pastry from the fridge before leaning back against the cabinets. “Did you have fun last night?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes, but then I realized that his question was innocent because he definitely didn’t know about Changbin. “It was nice.”

“What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I haven’t made plans.”

“You can hang out with me and Jisung today,” Felix suggested. “We’re just going for coffee.”

Jisung met my gaze from over the table and he quickly looked away as if he wasn’t expecting the contact. “Yeah,” I nodded. “I could use some coffee.”

It wasn’t often that I accompanied Felix and Jisung when they decided to actually leave the house and my brother’s massive collection of video games. Felix was never the problem, but I could only endure so much of Jisung’s flirtations before I inevitably made another pointless vow to try and ignore him. It was an impossible promise to keep since Felix was practically glued to his hip, and I can’t remember the last time Jisung actually spent the night at his own home.

However, coffee was nice and the taste was bile so it sat heavy on my tongue and provided a good distraction, even if that meant listening to my brother and Felix talk about the party. “I met Chan,” Jisung said. “He was really cool.”

Felix nodded, eyeing his coffee with obvious distaste. “Minho seems to like him.”

“He introduced me to his partner, Changbin,” Jisung continued and I fidgeted nervously at the mention of his name. “Apparently, they do a lot of work together.”

“I’ve heard their stuff,” Felix said, finally pushing away his coffee cup in exchange for his orange juice. “I think they’re really talented.”

“It’s like you’re meeting real professionals,” Jisung gushed and I rolled my eyes. “I let them listen to one of my demos,” Jisung chuckled. “I think they want to work together.”

“Really?” Felix gasped. “That’s amazing!”

“I guess they need another partner,” I remarked, shivering when I thought about my encounter with Changbin from the previous evening.

“You can always come with me to the studio tomorrow,” Jisung said. “If you want.”

The idea of being alone with Jisung wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities. “I don’t know...”

“Changbin will be there too,” Jisung added. “Minho said he really thought you were cool at the party.”

“I bet he did,” I grumbled.

“Why are you inviting her instead of your best friend?” Felix pouted.

“You said you needed to work on a project,” Jisung reminded him. “Actually, you made me swear to keep away distractions!”

“Alright, fine,” Felix sighed. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean that I’m okay with it.”

Jisung ignored my brother’s sullen expression. “Y/N? Do you want to come?”

“I guess,” I said, and I had no idea what possessed me to agree with his request until it was too late.

The next morning, I met Jisung outside of the address he had sent to my phone with several rather inappropriate emojis. I made sure to scold him for the messages, but he was far too excited, ignoring my complaints when he started talking about the new project he was working on with Chan and Changbin. “Come on,” he said, holding open the door as I walked inside the tiny lobby of the simple two-story building. “We’re on the top floor,” Jisung smirked as if that was something to brag about considering the condition of the worn-down warehouse they were using as a studio.

However, I knew that he was excited, so I feigned a smile as he continued talking about the building’s intricate history while we walked up the staircase to pause outside of a studio room. “Is this it?” I asked.

He nodded, reaching for the door handle. “They should be inside.”

True to his word, Chan and Changbin were standing together in front of a large computer monitor, turning around when they heard me and Jisung enter the room together. “There you are,” Chan said, but his gaze was strangely focused on me.

“We have some stuff for you to hear,” Changbin said, stretching his arms above his head. “I need some coffee first.”

“There’s a gas station down the road,” Jisung said. “I’ll go with you?”

Changbin looked at me for a moment before agreeing to Jisung’s proposal. “We’ll have plenty of time to work when we get back.”

“You’re in for a surprise, Jisung,” Chan said. “Actually, while the two of you are gone, maybe Y/N could look at some of the tracks?”

“Really?” I asked, surprised that he would be so willing to share, but he was already dragging me down into the desk chair, pulling me closer to the monitor.

“You can take you time and browse,” he said, joining Jisung and Changbin at the door.

They started talking about something else, but I was too busy admiring the vast number of tracks listened in sequential order on Chan’s computer. Despite how I might feel about Changbin, it was impossible to deny that their work was impressive, spreading across years of effort. It felt like I was being allowed an intimate glimpse of the artists who were growing more popular everyday.

“Try to be back in twenty minutes,” Chan said, and I watched Jisung and Changbin leave together, whispering in low tones while Chan shut the door behind them. “Your music is really good,” I said, scrolling through the library of his songs. It only made him that much more appealing when I could see the evidence of his passion.

“Are we going to stop playing games, Y/N?”

I frowned at his question, turning around in the chair. “What do you mean?”

Chan smirked, and I realized that it wasn’t playful. “Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” he asked.

“Chan...” I trailed off, frozen in place while he slowly leered in my direction, taking several, meaningful steps before he was bracing himself on either side of the desk behind me. 

“Changbin told me about what happened in the car.”

I swallowed hard. “W-what?”

“Is that all it takes? A couple of fingers to satisfy you?”

“Chan, I don’t understand,” I tried, gasping when he picked me up out of the chair, legs wrapping around his waist automatically before he sat me down on the desk.

“Do you want it again?” Chan asked, running his hands alongside my waist before crawling his finger across the bare skin of my thighs, disregarding the thin barrier of my skirt. I felt him press the palm of his hand against my wet heat, fingers testing the edges of my panties. “I can make you feel good.”

The sensation was too much, and I found myself nodding without really thinking about the consequences. “Please.”

His fingers were suddenly penetrating my delicate walls, sliding in and out at a vicious pace that left me aching for something more. “Tell me, Y/N,” Chan demanded, using his thumb to circle my throbbing clitoris. “How does it feel?”

“I want it, Chan,” I moaned, bracing my hands against his firm chest as he continued to pleasure me. Unlike Changbin, I could tell that Chan was determined to make me cum as soon as possible, twisting his hand and jamming his fingers like he was aiming to make me lose my mind. I practically fell against him crying, riding out the waves of my high, while he ignored my whimpers when everything was suddenly feeling overstimulated.

“Come here,” he said, pulling out his fingers before falling against his chair and patting his thighs.

My legs were shaking when Chan helped me onto his lap and I moaned when his fingers crooked against my walls again. “Do you want my cock?” he asked and I nodded viciously, sending strands of my hair flying in all directions. “What a good girl,” he snarled, ripping his fingers away and leaving me whining around the empty space he left behind.

“Chan,” I groaned, resting my head against his shoulder while I watched him make a show out of undoing the belt around his waist, unzipping his skinny jeans before shoving the material down his thighs. His erection strained the silky material of his boxer shorts, and I was practically salivating.

He reached down to rub himself through his shorts, outlining his cock in a way that made me realize that I wasn’t going to leave this studio without an obvious limp. “Y/N,” he said. “Take off your skirt for me.”

I whined, but obeyed him instantly, bracing one hand against his shoulder while the other practically ripped the fine material of the pretty skirt down my legs and into the studio floor. Chan’s eyes darkened, grabbing my waist between his hands to grind the front of my soaked panties against his erection. “Please,” I cried, wanting nothing more than to take matters into my own hands, but Chan’s grip was impossible to break.

“I’m going to fuck this little pussy,” Chan growled. “Can you last long enough for me to come inside?”

“Yes,” I whined, stuttering around a broken sob when he pulled his cock into the studio light, stretching my panties to the side before sinking deep inside my pulsing heat.

“That’s right,” Chan said, eyes closed. “You feel so good.”

“Chan,” I moaned, eye widening when the stretch felt impossible, like he was splitting me open even when common sense told me that it was just my body accommodating to his cock.

His hips slammed into mine, and I could barely reciprocate when he easily overpowered my attempts to meet him somewhere between our bodies. Instead, he took control and I let him have it because he knew exactly what to do before sending me over the edge again, ignoring my cries when he continued to chase his own high, grunting against my ear when he came inside.

“Y/N,” he sighed, keeping me in place despite the fact that his cock was completely flaccid. “Such a good girl.”

I was incoherent and incapable of offering a response in return. Instead, I buried my face into the side of his neck, smelling the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and the sex polluting the air around us. His body was firm and warm, and I closed my eyes because everything felt like an incredibly lucid dream.

I was still exhausted from the previous afternoon, unable to walk much further than from my bedroom to the living room before the painful reminder of my unexpected session with Chan started to ache between my legs. There was a movie playing on the television, but I was only somewhat focused on the lazy plot and characters. Instead, I was thinking about my interactions with Chan and Changbin, wondering if the two men were playing some sort of mind game with me.

I only managed to tear myself away from those thoughts when I saw Minho as he walked down the stairs with Felix and Jisung talking about something to do with a sports competition. “There you are!” Felix exclaimed. “We were just talking about your visit to the studio with Jisung.”

“I heard you got a tour,” Minho said. “That was nice of them.”

“Yeah,” I agree because there was a lot more to talk about besides the tour of the dilapidated studio.

“I haven’t had a chance to visit,” Minho said. “But they said I could record my new demo there.”

“Another one!” Felix gasped, looking at my brother with wide eyes. “You’re a fucking genius, man.”

“Oh, I know,” Minho smirked. “Actually, I can show you before my first lecture,” Minho said, starting in the direction of his bedroom.

Jisung watched Felix trail behind Minho before he joined me on the couch. “What did you think of the studio?”

I swallowed hard. “It was fine.”

“I think it’s really nice,” Jisung said. “Chan said something making us a permanent trio! He even gave us a name and everything!”

“Oh?”

“3racha,” Jisung giggled. “It’s like a pun-”

“Yeah, I get it,” I sighed impatiently. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

Jisung was undeterred by the sharp comment, and he buried himself further into the cushions before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Our first show is tomorrow, Y/N,” Jisung giggled, and I finally turned to look at him. “I hope you can watch?”

“Where?”

“It’s a club somewhere downtown. I can send you the address? I know that Chan and Changbin were both insisting that you come.”

“I’m sure they were,” I grumbled, but Jisung was more interested in talking about his contributions to the album. 

“It would mean a lot to me,” he managed after thoroughly explaining their newest concept. “You don’t even have to stay for the whole show.”

“I don’t know...”

“Minho and Felix are coming!” he quickly added, and I wondered if he knew that I would feel more comfortable with my brothers around.

“Okay,” I finally relented, groaning when he started jumping up and down on the couch like an overzealous puppy.

I rode to the club with Minho and Felix who were excitedly chattering about the impending concert while I looked out the window despondently. It felt like a huge risk to show up to the concert considering the recent events concerning my meetings with Chan and Changbin. However, I didn’t want my brothers to be suspicious, so I reluctantly followed them inside where we squeezed together around one of the tables in the middle of an enormous crowd.

The atmosphere was euphoric, draped in a haze of alcohol and the flashing neon lights decorating the stage. It was actually quite civil considering the fact that we were moments away from listening to loud music full of pounding bass and fast rapping. I was half-way convinced that the other guests had no idea what they were actually getting themselves into by coming here tonight.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” an annoucement blared overheard, “please welcome, 3racha!”

The audience started clapping while a familiar melody began softly playing, and the fans around me started to cheer for the three shadowy figures who had suddenly walked onto the stage. “Let’s go!” Chan shouted, beginning his verse of the song which I now recognized as one of the tracks they had played for me at the studio. They were all wearing black, matching the tone and vibe of their music, playing through each track with an infectious energy. However, I was still unnerved because I noticed that they all managed to look at me at some point, even though the crowd, and I was starting to feel hot all over my entire body.

“They’re really good,” Felix remarked, and I nodded in return even though I was finding the table much more interesting.

“Thank you, 3racha!” an overhead announcement said and the audience were rising to their feet in synchrony to offer the artists a round of applause for their stage.

“Jisung sounded amazing!” Felix said as if he couldn’t resist the opportunity to brag about his friend.

“Maybe we can meet them backstage,” Minho suggested, and I halfheartedly protested when my brothers forced me to accompany them.

Subsequently, Minho forced Felix and I to wait by the stage for his friends because he was convinced that I really didn’t have an important project to complete before tomorrow. “You never do anything last minute, Y/N,” he said, smiling when he spotted Chan’s messy hair from the middle of the crowd.

“Hey!” Chan greeted him, accepting Minho’s failed attempt at a cool handshake. Changbin and Jisung followed him, and I couldn’t help but notice how the youngest had started to stumble on his feet. 

“You guys did great,” Minho said, talking extensively about his favorite performance while a sudden bombardment of alcohol hit my senses.

I instantly recoiled, covering my nose when the smell grew stronger. “How much did you drink, Jisung?”

“Not much,” the younger boy slurred, and I noticed that his eyes were distant.

“I’ll grab us more drinks,” Changbin said, giving me a familiar dark look before disappearing into the surrounding crowd.

“He’ll be fine,” Felix said, tossing an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “You deserve to celebrate tonight, man!”

I tugged on Minho’s sleeve to catch his attention, unwittingly drawing Chan’s gaze at the same time. “I think he’s drunk.”

Minho sighed, ready to launch into one of his world-famous lectures, when he was interrupted by the DJ onstage who confronted Chan. “Hey! We couldn’t find you after the show.”

Chan rolled his eyes. “I was out here the entire time.”

“Well, you need to pick up your CD backstage,” the DJ said. “The owners will throw it out tomorrow.”

“I’ll be right there,” Chan grumbled while glaring at the DJ.

“Now,” the man growled and Chan quietly excused himself with a brittle tone. Meanwhile, I had to help Felix with Jisung because his friend was starting to sway dangerously back and forth.

“He needs to go home,” I sighed, watching as Jisung leaned more of his weight against a much smaller Felix.

“I’d take him, but I already had two beers,” Minho said, looking at Felix expectantly.

“Me!” Felix whined. “But I want to stay.”

“He’s your friend,” I glowered.

“Alright,” Minho groaned. “Y/N, you haven’t had anything to drink and you’re way more responsible than Felix.”

It was easy to meet Minho’s stern gaze since this was the perfect opportunity to finally leave the club. “Fine, I’ll take Jisung home.”

“Then it’s settled,” he agreed, tossing me his spare set of car keys. “Take him to our place.”

“Okay,” I said, groaning when Felix helped Jisung wrap his arms around my shoulders and waist. The additional weight was burdensome, and I cursed Jisung under my breath as I helped him through the club to where the bouncer waited at the exit. “I’ll never let you forget this,” I hissed, waiting for the bouncer to open the door while I took one last look over my shoulder to check on my brothers. Instead, I found myself looking directly into Changbin’s dark eyes as he waited by the bar, a familiar smirk making him appear even more dangerous. I shivered in response before I slowly shuffled to the car with Jisung practically breathing down my neck.

When I finally managed to accompany Jisung inside my house, I unceremoniously deposited him on the couch, ignoring the way he groaned in complaint. “I’ll find you some medicine,” I said, searching through one of the side tables.

“It hurts,” Jisung whined, and I rolled my eyes after shoving a bottle of Aspirin in his direction.

“Remember that when you decide to be stupid again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping two pills into his hand before swallowing them eagerly.

I grimaced as I sat down next to him. “When did you start drinking?”

“Before the show,” Jisung said. “Changbin said it would help take the edge off.”

“Yeah? Do me a favor and don’t listen to him anymore,” I said, frowning when Jisung curled closer to my side. “What are you doing?”

“Tired,” he said, looking up at me with a smile. “You look beautiful.”

I scoffed, trying to push him away, but alcohol apparently made him bolder because he was suddenly twisting one leg around my hip to hold himself in place. “Jisung, you need to stop,” I said, gasping when he brought his lips against mine, kissing me with skill and a surprising amount of tongue. “We can’t do this!”

“Please,” Jisung whined, grinding his hips against my legs. “Just one night, Y/N?”

“Your drunk,” I said, which was only one of a dozen problems with the scenarios currently playing out right in front of my very eyes.

“I’m sober,” Jisung promised, frantically chasing my lips with eager kisses.

It was nothing short of desire, the way he was looking at me, while I watched our clothes end up in a pile around the couch as Jisung fumbled with the condom before I helped him roll it onto his erection. He groaned at the contact, and I moved my hand up and down his cock a few more times before directing him between my legs. Jisung slid inside with a messy exhale, and his arms trembled as they supported his body looming over mine with his delicate frame.

It was a pleasant contradiction because Chan’s thrusts had been nothing short of confident while Jisung’s inexperience showed in the frantic way his hips stuttered against mine. He tried to move faster, losing his previous rhythm, and his cock fell all the way out, erection sliding between my thighs instead. He whined pathetically, rutting against my legs for several moments before he re-adjusted himself deep inside. “Y/N,” he moaned.

“It’s okay,” I told him, petting my fingers along the crown of his head. “You’re doing so good.”

“I like you so much,” Jisung replied earnestly and my heart ached at his words.

He looked unbelievably sinful, eclipsing my body against his as I felt the fabric of the couch against my skin. The friction was delicious, and I focused on the way his cock felt, thrusts growing more and more assured as he finally found a way to please us both, thumb brushing across my clitoris. He was still kissing me, tongue moving across mine deliberately, and I was breathing harshly as I fought to control the rising heat building in my abdomen. It was an intense build-up to an orgasm that I could’ve never anticipated since Jisung was always Felix’s friend who I usually avoided. The same Jisung whose endless flirtations usually annoyed me, but something had changed the moment I looked into his eyes and saw the lust and desire coming together to create an intoxicating mixture.

It was suddenly impossible to ignore the way he made me feel and I felt him come deep inside with a stuttered moan. His hips moved harshly against mine, and I chased my release with a sensual grind of my hips until I was throwing my head back with a cry, groaning when his lips found the sensitive skin of my neck. “Jisung,” I murmured, watching him through a haze of darkness as he rolled over next to me with a moan.

I studied the way Jisung’s hair fanned out across the cushions, making him look angelic beneath the influence of the moon’s light breaking the barrier of the  curtains. It made me feel guilty, realizing that I had finally returned Jisung’s feelings only after my tumultuous affairs with Changbin and Chan. In fact, I was nothing more than the very girls I often mocked when they threw themselves at the most popular boys in school. I swallowed hard at the realization. “What have I done?”

[chilling-seavey]

A blurb where the girls are fighting and one of them ends up hitting the other sending Flora & Daniel in shook✨

I really liked this idea and I thought it would work with something I ran past @randomlimelightxxx a bit ago…I can’t really see the girls arguing and hitting each other per se (but I’m sure it happened at least once!) but this idea I wrote below basically would be quite similar in the way Flora and Daniel would react in terms of your idea! Besides, the girls are more vicious with words than fists most often than not hehe ;)

Saturday, August 7, 2027

From the day Penelope got her diagnosis, Florence and Daniel made a point not to treat her different from her sisters. Of course, she sometimes needed a few accommodations and extra support but she would never be singled out and never be treated differently for any other reason. It was hard at first, trying to understand their middle daughter’s every needs – especially when she went non-vocal when her overloads were strongest – but they tried their best for her.

They always had a menu on the fridge with a schedule so they would know what meals to expect day to day. Penelope liked to be prepared. It just came with the diagnosis. Florence would always try to keep recipes simple for Penelope’s sake since she was kind of a picky eater. That also came with the diagnosis. Penelope never really had a problem eating food at home but she did have her plain favourites that tended to be the go to: chicken nuggets, pasta with tomato sauce, or baked potatoes with butter.

One day in particular was not a good day for Penelope. They had all gone out for the afternoon and everything was setting her off. Being seven-years-old now, she better understood what was happening to her when meltdowns hit but still couldn’t really control herself at all. It was everything piling up from the noise of the harbour front to the sudden toots of boat horns to overlapping chatter and all sorts of smells and Penelope just went into overwhelm.

Florence and Daniel had their responses at the ready and were able to calm her down – Florence taking her sisters a bit of a ways off while Daniel sat with the sobbing girl on the boardwalk edge and held his hands over her ears until she relaxed. She still cried the whole walk home for dinner and was a sniffling mess in Daniel’s arms as they took the elevator upstairs. She was getting a little big to be carried but Daniel would carry her as long as she needed him to.

Three-year-old Lucy kept tapping at his leg and insisting, “My turn!”

But he would whisper a gentle, “Not now.” and focus back to his shaken daughter in his arms.

Clementine stared from Florence’s other side, holding her mother’s hand. She knew well about her sister’s diagnosis – well, the best an eight-and-a-half-year-old could – but she still felt slightly embarrassed every time she melted down in public places.

Dinner that night was leftover roasted chicken and Florence got right to work to reheat it when they got home. Clementine and Lucy busied themselves in the living room and Penelope still clung onto Daniel as he followed his wife into the kitchen.

“Let’s give her something she wants to eat tonight.” Daniel offered quietly.

“Was thinking so too.” Florence agreed. She shifted over so she could look at her daughter, “What do you want to eat tonight, sweet girl? Some nuggets? Pasta?”

Penelope sniffled and cuddled into Daniel’s shoulder, mumbling out a quiet, “Pasta.”

“Please, Mommy?” Daniel whispered into her hair as a little reminder.

“Please, Mama.” Penelope added sleepily.

Daniel kissed her head.

It didn’t take long for dinner to be made since it was just leftovers and then boiling some pasta in a pot and soon the family of five was sitting around the dinner table. Penelope’s tears were drying on her cheeks but she had a tiny hint of a smile on her face as she ate her pasta quietly. Everyone else – even young Lucy – had seasoned chicken on their plates. Clementine eyed her middle sister and then looked down at her own plate.

“Why does she get something fun?” she frowned.

“Just focus on your own dinner.” Florence answered gently.

Clementine didn’t even need an answer to know why her sister always seemed to get what she wanted and the near jealousy that was filling her stomach was apparent in her little glare. She leaned in a little to whisper in a tone filled with distaste, “It’s because you’re autistic.”

The sound of cutlery clattering onto the table and the chair scraping back against the floor startled the family as Daniel got up and grabbed Clementine by the arm before Penelope could even so much as look up from her plate. He pulled the eldest daughter to her feet, right out of her chair, and she gasped lightly.

“Room. Now.” he ordered and led her purposefully down the hallway.

Clementine’s eyes were wide in shock at her father’s sudden aggression – although he of course didn’t grab her enough to hurt her – and he pulled her down the hallway and into her bedroom. Daniel closed the door behind her and let go of her arm and Clementine took a few steps back in surprise and hesitation.

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest as he stared sternly at his eldest, “You don’t ever use that against your sister.”

Clementine nodded quickly.

“Just because she needs different things sometimes does not give you the right to be vicious towards her.”

Clementine nodded again.

“You are her big sister so you need to protect her, not belittle her. Do you understand me?”

Clementine nodded a third time.

“With your words, Clementine Ophelia.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Clementine hurried out, her voice wavering at the obvious seriousness of her father’s orders.

Daniel was rarely angry so she was extra frightened, staring up at him with nervous and shamed tears brimming in her eyes.

He wasn’t done, speaking strongly to her from a few short paces away, “You don’t need to understand what she goes through or what she needs and why but you don’t ever use that tone with her again. Yes, your sister is autistic, but she has done nothing to deserve to have that used against her.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Clementine sniffled, her vision blurring with tears as he scolded her.

“You treat her the same way you treat Lucy; with compassion. The three of you are very different people but that is not something to be ridiculed. Ever. For any reason.”

“Okay!” Clementine shouted, tears starting to drip down her cheeks as she let out a sob. “I’m sorry!”

“You’re going to sit on your bed for a ten minute timeout and when I come to get you again you will apologize to Penelope and continue eating your nice supper that your mother worked hard to make yesterday and I don’t want to hear one complaint.”

Clementine nodded through her tears and climbed up onto her bed, sitting cross-legged in the middle as she sobbed. Daniel sighed and stood at the end of her bed and curled a finger at her to get her to come here. She sniffled loudly as she crawled over to him and knelt in front of him, staining her cheeks in tears.

Daniel took her face in his hands and wiped her tears with his thumbs before pressing a kiss to her forehead and whispering against the same spot, “I love you.”

He always tried to tell his daughters he loved them. Even when he was his most angry.

Clementine sobbed louder in shame.

“Hey,” Daniel called gently to get her eyes focused back on his, “I said I love you.”

“I-I love you.” Clementine hiccupped in reply.

With one more kiss, he left her there for her ten minute timeout, returning to a quiet dinner table in the meantime. Penelope had her cheek resting on her hand as she fed herself spoons of pasta tiredly and Lucy was picking up her little pieces of chicken with her fingers like it was the most interesting thing. Florence glanced up as Daniel approached and he apologized to her quietly as he sat back down and picked up his cutlery again and checked his watch to note the time.

“Everything okay?” Florence asked softly.

“Mhm.” Daniel fed himself a forkful of lukewarm supper before whispering to his wife, “I don’t want either of them…anyone for that matter…treating her differently. Using that shit against her for any reason.”

“Me neither.” Florence set her hand on his on the tabletop.

When the ten minutes was up and Daniel brought Clementine back to the table, the eldest took her seat again quietly, sniffling back her drying tears. She looked at her expectant father and he nodded her on towards her sister. She looked beside her to Penelope.

“Nelly?”

The younger sister looked up shyly behind bangs of frazzled brown hair and her own tear filled blue eyes.

Clementine shifted nervously in her chair, “I’m sorry I got upset.”

Penelope only gave her a half nod and looked back down to her plate. Clementine frowned and looked to her parents for help.

“Just let her eat, angel.” Daniel whispered gently. “She heard you…she’ll talk when she’s comfortable to.”

Clementine nodded and focused on her own dinner. From that day on – with sense nearly scared into her – Clementine declared herself Penelope’s own defence squad, especially while at school.

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 41

(Taehyung X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Angst, but lots of fluff

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42

You had never seen Jin so angry. The look on his face was almost enough to make you feel absolutely terrified, even if you knew that anger wasn’t directed at you.

There was no getting past being honest with Jin after he already heard so much. So Yoongi had grabbed his arm and hurriedly dragged him into the stairwell before attempting to calm him down and explain what he had heard.

But there was apparently no calming him down.

“And you guys felt like this wasn’t important information to share?” Seokjin asked.

“We thought it was better if less people knew about it,” Taehyung replied. “There’s nothing we can do at this point, and Bang PD already told noona that he’s going to let her finish healing without anything else being asked of her.”

“That doesn’t make it any less wrong,” Seokjin agitatedly replied. “Are you just letting it slide? Not going to do anything about it?”

“If you heard about that, then didn’t you hear what I told noona?” Yoongi asked, meeting Jin’s intensity.

“I heard Y/n saying about the article’s release being intentional and done behind her back,” Jin answered. “I wasn’t close enough to make out anything before that. But frankly, I don’t care what you said, Yoongi. Something should be done about it!”

“First of all, would you just- please calm down,” Yoongi said, attempting to do the same for himself. “Don’t go waking the whole building. And you should care about what I said before that. What do you want us to do, hyung? Barge into Bang’s office, tell him how much of an injustice it was, and demand he compensate her?”

“Sure, that sounds like a great start,” Jin said, still obviously very agitated, but his voice at a reasonable volume.

“Okay, then what?” Yoongi asked. “Do you think he’s going to just admit it? Do you think there is no chance whatsoever of it affecting noona’s job? Or our own? Do you really want to risk everything you’ve worked for for years, and risk making noona losing her job, make her have to move back home? While she’s still healing?”

“He can’t just do stuff like that, though!” Jin replied incredulously.

“He’s a businessman, Jin,” you said. “He saw an opportunity to better your guys’ image and popularity and he took it.”

Your friend turned to you and furrowed his brows. “You’re not telling me right now that you’re okay with him just- just using you like that, are you?”

“Of course I’m not!” you whisper yelled, making the boys around you flinch. “It is constantly bothering me. He called me earlier today, and I felt so awkward I had no idea how to talk to him. He apologized for asking me to go to the airport to pick you guys up, but I wanted so badly for him to come clean and apologize about the article instead. I can’t tell you how much I want to just wheel right into his office and demand that he tell me what he did and why he did it, even if I already know. I want to hear it straight from his mouth, and I want him to tell me he knows he did something wrong and say he’ll never do it again. But it’s not going to happen, Jin. It’s just not.”

Letting all of the anger you’ve felt over the situation out in your rant made you feel breathless. The others remained quiet for a moment, probably unsure of how to respond to something like that.

“Yoongi is right,” you said. “It’s wrong, and he shouldn’t have done it. I’m getting more attention than I ever asked for and it’s nerve-wracking being this much in the public eye. But what good will it do to ask for an apology? It will make him aware that I know what he did, and probably wonder who else knows. I have no idea if I’d get fired, if he’ll do something to make sure that I can’t tell anyone. And I’m scared of how it could affect you guys. I needed to talk to Tae and Yoongi today because I just had a lot of emotions and wanted to confront him, but knew it wasn’t a good idea and they helped reason that with me.”

Jin chewed on the inside of his cheek while he calmed himself down. “I’m still not okay with this.”

“Neither am I,” you admitted. “But what else can we do, really? Other than hope that he decides to come clean about it on his own.”

“Hyung, please promise you won’t do anything,” Tae pleaded in a small voice. “I really wish I could too, believe me. But I just don’t think this is one of those things we can fight.”

Seokjin didn’t look any of you in the eyes while he said, “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m sorry for exploding like that, I just-” he sighed, unable to finish his sentence.

“I know, hyung,” Yoongi said, placing a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “I felt the same when I found out. I understand.”

“Now I get why he’s acting so apologetic, though,” Seokjin said. “When he gave us permission to take a long break to take you out of the house, he just seemed odd. I couldn’t place what it was, but it was almost like he felt guilty. Which I guess could be explained by the airport, but it felt like more than that.”

“I mean, being attacked by a couple of sasaengs does make one afraid to leave the house when they’re so defenseless,” you said, laughing a little. “If I could stand on my feet and run away, that’s one thing, but I’m literally at others’ mercy like this.”

“That’s why you have us to protect you,” Tae said, smiling widely at you.

You smiled back, feeling more at ease now that you were all on the same page.

“Alright, let’s get back before someone else gets curious and eavesdrops,” Yoongi said, sending Jin a teasing look.

It was Jin who took you back to your apartment, helping you into bed. Nobody really argued when he silently decided he’d do it, figuring it would help him feel better to help you in the ways that he at least knew he could.

“I seriously can’t wait until you can start walking again,” he said as he helped you gather your covers and tuck in. “Not that it’s a burden to help you, but just because I know how frustrating it is for you.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, you and me both.”

Jin suddenly looked serious as he sat on the edge of your bed. “Y/n, you know you can always come to me for anything, right? If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

You smiled at him. “I know Jin. I promise I will. If I need to talk or just need some company or something, you’re the first person I’d go to.”

“You really are like family, you know?” he said. “It’s not just me. But you really are like a sister to me. So I want to be a good brother to you.”

“You are, Jin. I treasure your friendship. And I love being a part of this family. I would never trade any of you guys for anything.”

“Even if it meant you’d instantly be rich?”

“Absolutely,” you didn’t hesitate to answer. “I’d pick living a poor and hard life if it meant that I had the seven of you with me. I’d even be willing to be stuck in a wheelchair for life.”

Jin laughed quietly. “Well, we’re for sure going to try to not let any of that happen. But thank you, I’m sure we all feel the same.”

He gave your hand a squeeze as he leaned in to kiss your forehead before getting up and you one last ‘good night’ while he left.

You really did have such a wonderful family here.

By now it had been about two months since your injury. It could take up to six for your legs to fully heal, and with you staying entirely off your feet the hope was that you’d heal more quickly than that.

Two days after that night in the stairwell, Mrs. Kim attended your doctor appointment with you. She was really sweet and you couldn’t have been more grateful for her wanting to keep you company during this short time. It was especially a relief having someone with you when you visited the doctor. Not that you were scared of hospitals or anything, but you often had trouble remembering to ask questions and just nodded along to what the doctor told you. So someone else being there who could remember to do so was a huge help.

After an x-ray of your legs to see how the bones were healing, your doctor informed you that the healing process was going well. It would still be a little while before he recommended anything like walking, but they were at least healed enough that putting some weight on them shouldn’t have been bothersome.

To test it out, he asked you to place your feet on the floor and put a small amount of pressure on them and told you to immediately stop if you felt any pain. You found that it didn’t really hurt with just a bit of weight, but it did feel weird to do so for the first time in so long.

With the confirmation that it didn’t cause any pain, he told you that you were able to assist when people helped you in and out of your chair now. They still had to hold the majority of your weight, but walking lightly to help make it easier on them was no problem.

It was small progress, but it made you feel happy and excited, nonetheless.

After the doctor appointment, you decided you wanted to go back to the office first and let Bang and hopefully the boys know the news.

You felt nervous since this would be your first time seeing him in person since you learned about the article, at least if he was available to see you. But you felt it was important that he knew any progress in your condition and it wasn’t like you could avoid him forever. You had to see him at some point, so might as well rip the band-aid off now.

Your boss ended up not being at his office, and a quick message to Sejin let you know that the boys were practicing choreography for the concert so you headed toward the practice room in the meantime. You waited outside with Mrs. Kim, watching through the window as they practiced for Boyz With Fun. The choreography for the song was more lighthearted and didn’t need to be precise since the song was mostly for fun, but it was still very high energy.

When the song ended and didn’t restart right away, Taehyung’s mother knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to intrude without permission. It was Hoseok who came to open it, smiling brightly despite looking exhausted. “Hello eomeoni, noona. What are you guys doing here?”

“We wanted to stop and say hi,” you said. “We just came from my doctor appointment.”

“Oh, that’s right! That was today!” Hoseok sounded excited. “You can come in. We’re due for a break anyway.”

He opened the door wide, holding it while you wheeled through after Tae’s mom.

“You had your appointment today?” Namjoon asked from his spot on the floor through ragged breaths. “How’d it go?”

“My legs are healing well,” you said with a smile. “He said I can put a little bit of pressure on my feet now.”

“Really?!” Jimin asked, sitting up straight after having been laying flat on the floor.

You nodded. “No walking or anything yet, but he said I can put some weight on them to help when you guys are moving me in and out of the chair.”

“That’s great!” Tae said, smiling widely as your eyes met his. “That’s huge progress. That means your bones are healing really well.”

You smiled softly, feeling your heart skip a beat. It felt silly, but everyone seemed so enthusiastic and made it seem like it was such a big deal when it was really only just a small amount of progress.

That, and how are you supposed to not feel affected when Taehyung was staring at you like that.

“Yes, the doctor said she’s healing really well,” Mrs. Kim said. “He said she’s healing faster than they expected, almost as fast as they hoped she would. He expects it to be no more than two months, if that, until she’s able to start getting back on her feet.”

“And then you’ll be able to resume being our manager,” Jungkook said.

“Well, after I can walk again, yeah,” you said. “I can already feel how weak my legs are. They’re going to need a good amount of physical therapy before I can walk entirely unassisted.”

“But that’s still so much closer than it could have been,” Namjoon smartly added. “With how bad that fracture was, the doctor said it could have taken up to six months. But since you’ve been really good about resting your legs, I guess that helps a whole lot, huh?”

You nodded. “That’s what he said. He said he could tell that I’d been following his instructions to not put any pressure or weight on them.”

“How much longer are you boys practicing?” Mrs. Kim asked.

“Probably another hour,” Hoseok said. “We have a few things to refine, but we made a deal that if we can do the choreography with no mistakes for five runs in a row then we can go home early. I think we can do it.”

“Well, I guess I’d better go get dinner ready then, hm?” she responded. “I want to make something a little special today since we got the good news from the doctor.”

“It’s really no big deal, eomeoni,” you insisted.

“Nonsense! Every step is progress, and that’s something to celebrate.”

“I still need to let Bang know,” you said. “I might need to just call or text him to tell him.”

You could see Jin’s head turning to you out of the corner of your eye at the mention of your boss’ name. “We can tell him for you if you want,” he said.

“It’s fine.” You smiled in his direction. “I can talk to him.”

Jin took a moment to think before nodding, clearly understanding what you meant. You were okay with talking to him despite the fact that you still hadn’t quite gotten over what happened.

“Do you want to stay, noona?” Taehyung asked hesitantly. “I know you used to like to watch us practice. You could stay and go home with us?”

You turned toward his mother, about to ask her what she thought before she beat you to answering.

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” she said, smiling. “You have been wanting to get out of the house more anyway. Do you want to stay?”

“That would be nice,” you didn’t hesitate to answer. Seeing Tae’s boxy smile break out on his face at your response most certainly didn’t make your heart skip again. Not at all.

“Alright, I’ll see you back at your apartment in a little while then,” Mrs. Kim said before turning toward the door. “Take good care of her, boys!”

When she left, you wheeled yourself to the front of the room, as close to the corner as you could so you wouldn’t be in the way of their reflection.

“Do you want to sit on the floor?” Taehyung asked. “We can use our jackets to make a little seat for you, it might be more comfortable than your chair.”

You thought about it for a moment, realizing that that would help keep you more out of the way for them since your chair could be folded up as well. “If it’s not too much trouble, then sure. It’ll keep me from blocking your guys’ reflection, too.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that!” he backtracked, flailing his hands around a bit.

“Whatever is more comfortable for you is more important,” Namjoon chimed in. “You’re not in the way, not at all. But if you’d prefer to sit on the floor, then it’s no trouble for us.”

You smiled at their thoughtfulness. “I know that’s not why you asked, Tae. It’s okay, it was just my own concern. But yeah, if you don’t mind I would definitely like to spend some time out of this chair.’”

“Absolutely,” Jin answered, smiling reassuringly. Everyone jumped into action, grabbing their spare jackets to pile into the corner.

You wheeled yourself away so they could work and turned to look at what they were doing. A smile slowly spread across your face as you watched them quietly discuss how to set everything out so that it was the smoothest and most comfortable they could make it.

It made your heart swell, the amount of thought and care they put into such a small task. You really didn’t know what you would do without them.

After almost everyone sat on the little pile of clothes, testing to make sure that it was comfortable enough (It was only supposed to be Jimin, but then a few of the others decided they wanted to make sure themselves, which of course made you laugh), they dispersed and you approached the makeshift seat. You locked your wheels, Taehyung approaching to help you get out. Scooching forward as usual, you internally reminded yourself that it was okay to put some weight on your feet to help him out. Especially since you were being moved to the floor, it would require a bit more maneuvering than the usual chair-to-bed or vice versa.

But when Taehyung reached out for you, he wasn’t standing in front of you and with both arms reaching underneath your arms. He instead was a little to the side, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as the other looped underneath your knees. Just as you were opening your mouth to ask what he was doing, he lifted you with ease, hands reflexively linking behind his neck to keep yourself steady.

Before you could even blink you were being held princess style, which most definitely wasn’t the standard way of picking someone up out of a wheelchair. You had to resist the urge to tuck your face into his chest to hide your embarrassment, brain working well enough to notice that that would only make things worse.  

“What are you doing?” you finally managed to ask as he knelt down next to the clothing pile to set you down. “Why’d you pick me up like that?”

“It was easier,” he answered. “Less shuffling and easier to get you sitting down.”

It felt like forever before you were finally sitting on the floor, even though it must have must have been no more than ten seconds. Once he pulled away you found yourself feeling simultaneously relieved and disappointed at the loss of his warmth.

Looking up at the others, you caught the knowing smirk and raised eyebrows on Jin’s face. You felt a sudden urge to smack the expression off of him, but of course you couldn’t exactly get up and walk.

“Comfy?” Hoseok asked, giving some of the material around you another fluff for good measure.

“Yes, it’s nice and soft. Thank you,” you said.

“Good,” he responded. “Alright, let’s get her chair folded up and get back to practice, guys!”

It was really nice to watch them practice again. It felt so normal, you could almost forget that your injury ever happened and like you were still working with your boys almost every day.

At one point, when they had just a moment in between runs through the choreography, Jimin captured a selfie of the two of you. He sent it to Sejin with what he wanted to caption it with to get it approved before saving to post on Twitter later.

It ended up being closer to two hours, rather than the one that Hobi projected, before they were perfect enough to head home early. Luckily, you weren’t picked up so intimately this time as you were helped back into your chair by Yoongi. He said he wanted to let you practice and get used to letting your feet rest on the floor and help do some of the work.

You appreciated your heart being saved from anymore palpitations today.

Even on the walk home, you felt so refreshed at even the smallest return to normalcy that you didn’t care about Jungkook wanting to push your chair for you when you’d usually insist on wheeling yourself.

Mrs. Kim’s delicious homemade dinner filled with laughter and the company of your closest friends warmed your heart even more, so by the time you got around to texting your boss if he was available and calling him when he responded, you didn’t feel even the slightest pit in your stomach as you had the previous day.

You still had quite a while to go, but everyone was right. You were making progress and despite how small, it was reason enough to be excited and celebrate. It was enough to help keep you going as you waited for the day that you could walk again, at least for now. Nothing was perfect and there were certainly more things that you needed to personally work through, but it was the little steps to be celebrated that would help you climb your way there.

After laying down for the night, you got the notification that BTS tweeted. You clicked to see a sweet but short message about how you heard good news from the doctor today, and how excited they were to have you cheering on their practice.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face and dreamt of your head pressed against a warm chest while strong arms carried you.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42

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[serpentinesarang]

Familiar

pairing: chan (bang chan) x gender-neutral reader

genre: no smut, married!au, emotionally heavy, lots of plot build-up/context description, slow burn, fluff at the end, second-person POV

word count: 2098

content warnings: themes of death, depression/grieving, lack of eating, swearing; this is a SERIOUS piece that may make you cry. please proceed with caution and take a mental breather after. 

summary: your husband chan died a year ago, and life hasn’t been the same until you meet a peculiar stray dog whom you decide to keep.

a/n: partly inspired by the netflix anime film “a whisker away.” hint hint: australian dingo...

korean key:

⦿ sasaengpaen (사생팬) = crazy spy-like super fans, sasaeng for short; pronounced “sah-seng”

⦿ annyeong (안녕) = multipurpose word that translates to hi/bye and no; in this story, it’s used in the hi/bye sense. pronounced “on-yawng”

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Preface

It happened a year ago. The crash. The sasaengs. The coma. The stroke. The doctors’ denial of life support. The funeral.

Your husband Chan had died tragically after a catastrophic car accident outside the JYPE building in Seoul when a group of sasaengs tried to take control of an already chaotic situation on the street. Chan had been rushed to the hospital, so bloodied and so internally fractured that he immediately fell comatose and incidentally suffered a stroke due to the bodily trauma. 

You’d begged with all your might for the doctors to put him on life support, but they refused, saying he’d be vegetative for the rest of your life. They even sent an insurance liason up to Chan’s ICU suite to speak with you about having to pay for his life support as long as you continued to live, and you were just so beaten down by all the hospital staff that you agreed to release his body to the funeral home his parents had flown in to coordinate with.

And you were destroyed. 

Your employer had given you three months’ bereavement, but you still couldn’t bear to go to work for four more months. You slept 12 hours on Chan’s side of the bed every night and only wore his clothes during those four months of intermittent crying. After you used up the remaining sick days and paid time off you’d accrued over the years, your manager finally terminated you for missing too much. The next two months were spent on the couch with no appetite and inconsistent sleep, the good memories of Chan continually flooding back to you at random times. 

This was when you’d decided it was time to get your shit together because the scale declared you 15 lbs [7 kg] lighter; the circles under your eyes scared you each time you dared to glance in a mirror; and your phone’s mailbox had filled to its limit with messages from anyone and everyone offering their condolences for your loss. So three months passed, and you were able to gain back most of your weight, sleep more consistently, and clean out your social media.

Those last three months were the cleansing your soul so desperately needed, and for the first time since the incident, you were starting to feel a level of normalcy again. You’d even pushed yourself to get back into the workforce, and thankfully, this new employer didn’t cause a scene about your 11-month gap in job history. 

The dominoes were falling back into place. Sadly, you’d felt compelled at one point to ghost the rest of Stray Kids because it was just too painful for you to act like you could handle yourself around them. Out of worry and compassion, they all individually sent you messages here and there, but you told yourself maybe in the future. After all, your life had disintegrated to less than dust, so you were your priority moving forward.

Now

Your phone’s alarm wakes you to another dreary November day. It’s a snippet of an audio message he’d left you long, long ago when he was away for a tour. “Good morning to you, [Mr./Mrs.] Bang, my beautiful angel. I’m thinking of you as always. Text me when you get this. Love you, honey.”

November 25th, to be exact: the one-year anniversary of Chan’s death.

You sigh, whispering to the ceiling, “I love you too, baby.”

You pick yourself up, go through all the usual motions, and head to work in the morning snow, trying to keep your mind as numb as you’ve been recently feeling. Perhaps you’ll do a little something once you return home, you resolve.

The workday passes; the snow continues blanketing the city; and nothing really good or bad has happened in the meantime.

You step off the elevator onto your floor of the apartment building. You’re freezing from the windchill, mindlessly deleting spam email on your phone while trudging in your heavy boots to your door.

Once you reach your unit, something at the edge of your eyesight causes you to freeze. You take in the sight before you: a large, tan and white dog lying on your welcome mat with its front paws extended toward you. Its deep brown eyes stare right into yours, and you feel all the air in your lungs disappear.

“A-annyeong,” you murmur softly, pocketing your phone. 

The dog blinks in response, not moving his gaze.

You crouch down in front of the dog slowly, trying not to spook it. “Are you lost, sweetie?”

The dog emits a barely audible whimper, and you can’t tell if it’s sad or relieved to have been found. It’s not wearing a collar, and its abundant fur looks clean, like an inside pet.

Feeling conflicted, you purse your lips. “You must be... I’ll tell you what: you be good and stay here for me, okay?”

The dog exhales sharply before closing its eyes.

Wow, well trained pupper, you think to yourself as you rise. You spend the next five minutes ringing the entire floor’s doorbells, even banging on the doors of the units that didn’t respond to the bell. Each and every neighbor of yours denies owning a dog that looks like a Shiba Inu, and they all claim to not know anyone else who might have one.

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath after the last person closes their door.

Returning back to your unit, you find the dog hasn’t moved an inch, but it must recognize your presence because its eyes fly open, and its head shoots up toward you.

“I guess you’re mine for now,” you address it. You enter your passcode and push the door open, pointing expectantly with an approving facial expression for the dog to understand it’s okay to go in.

And it happily trots inside, sniffing around the entryway while you shuck off your boots, parka, and other winter layers. 

The dog seems to be waiting for you to finish because, once you turn toward it, it immediately turns around and saunters to the bedroom on the far end of the apartment. You keep up at its side and determine with a friendly visual inspection that this dog is a boy.

Approaching Chan’s old side of the mattress, he turns back to you and sits down in front of the nightstand, digging his eyes into yours once more.

Your brow furrows as you try to piece together what’s happening. “What? What’s up, sweetie?”

The dog replies with a heartwrenching whimper, angling his snout forward as if asking for you.

You pad closer and sit on the backs of your legs. “Will you let me touch you?” you ask him softly, raising a hand for him to sniff.

Oddly, he straight up disregards your hand and leans forward to lick your chin.

“Awww,” you gush at his sudden affection. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” You stroke the top of his tan head, and again, the poor thing whimpers while leaning into your touch.

You scratch at the bases of his ears before cupping his jowls in your hands. “You’re such a sweet boy, you know that?”

The dog blinks rapidly, pushing forward again to gently lick at your unsuspecting lips this time.

Giggling and stroking his front shoulder areas, you say, “Ohh, thank you, thank you. I haven’t been kissed in a year, so I appreciate that, sweet boy.”

A moment passes, but you have to do a double-take when you notice the thick stream of fluid cascading from his shiny eyes.

You gasp. “Oh nooo, are you crying?” With your thumbs, you carefully wipe away his tears. “Don’t cry, sweetie. I did enough of that for nine months straight, and I can’t have you making me sad too,” you confide with the animal, stroking his head again.

He responds by standing on all fours and pressing the top of his head to your own forehead, and you go breathless again.

He’s so human-like... so emotional... you think, raising your arms over his body and hugging him. You stay there for a solid minute before he finally pulls back and sits again.

You sigh quietly, evaluating his expression. “I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long day.” You nudge your chin up to the bed. “Wanna rest for a while?”

The dog ever so quietly barks with its snout closed, as if in acknowledgement, and he waits for you to move first. So you rise and position the pillows on Chan’s side against the wall for you to sit upright. You spread your legs in a butterfly position, and without you having to beckon or give permission, the dog hops to the corner of the bed and situates himself between your legs. You notice then that he’s eyeing something on the wall above the bed.

The professional landscape shot of Chan with his arms tightly curled around you under a peony-adorned gazebo near a lake, the day of your wedding. You were looking into each other’s eyes with the sincerest of smiles.

You turn to glance at the framed photo. “Yeah,” you sigh deeply, turning back to the dog. “That’s Channie, my husband.”

The dog picks up on your change of tone and scoots forward as close as he can get, resting his paws on your upper thighs and his snout on your stomach. His gleaming eyes practically compel you to go on.

Placing your hands on his soft back, you continue in a strained voice: “He was taken from me last year, on this day actually, November 25th. He was so badly hurt in the accident that he went into a coma and had a stroke a couple days later.”

You pause, and the dog whimpers on your stomach, his sad gaze making your throat constrict and your eyes water. 

How can a dog be so in tune with me...?

You push that question away with a sigh and bring a hand to rest on his head. “I never left the hospital. The nurses had to kick me out of his room when he passed. And I cried my eyes out for almost a year.” 

Your eyes drift off, glancing at the ceiling and the walls while remembering your grieving process. “So now I sleep on his side of the bed... I wear only his clothes at home... and I shower with the same things he always did. He’s always with me, even when I’m not wearing my ring.”

Tears have started falling onto your cheeks, and you look back down at the quiet dog to find him crying again as well, his glassy eyes still intently watching you.

An uncontrolled sob escapes your lips before you mash them together, trying to keep it together.

“I love him so much,” you throw your head back against the wall. “I love him so, so fucking much,” you whisper, the hot tears falling faster now.

You hear the dog whine rather loudly, so you focus on him again as he raises his head. “He was my person, and now I have no one,” you blubber, using your hands to angrily wipe away the tears.

The dog replies with a seemingly uncharacteristic growl, its eyes still very soft in contrast.

“Okay, okay, now I have you,” you concede, catching your breath. “I don’t know where your parents are, and I’ve been alone for too long.” You pause, almost unwilling to continue. “Will you stay with me, sweet boy?”

He barks out a high-pitched yelp, spastically moving his paws against you so they’re digging into your abdomen now.

Cheered up by the dog’s responsive expressions of emotion, you burst into a brief laugh and scratch the underside of his snout. “You remind me of him, you know. Soft hair, gorgeous brown eyes, super caring.”

Again, he whimpers, very quietly this time. You tenderly kiss his moist nose. “I’ll call you Chris... because only I was allowed to call him that.”

Chris responds by licking your lips again.

Your random gasp makes him jump a little. “Oh my gosh, I bet you’re hungry or thirsty!” You try shifting on the bed, but Chris’s weight holds you firmly. “Do you want food?”

Chris lowers his snout, resting it on your chest now. He doesn’t make any noises, but you can guess what he means by this.

“Okay, Chris, I gotcha. We’ll stay here and eat when you’re ready,” you promise as you smooth his pointed ears backward.

...

I found them... if only they knew it’s me... I’m Channie, and I’m still yours, honey. 

[nerdforestgirl]

Note:  Ten years since Sheldon and Amy met for the first time?  How time flies when you’re having fun.  I am so thankful for this fandom and for the fact that so many of you are still here even now that Big Bang Theory has been off the air for over a year.  I hope you have a great and fluffy day!  Here is my story for this year’s Fluff Crawlspace.  It’s another Disneyland story because your girl misses the heck out of it.

Sheldon looked over at his wife where she stood in the kitchen making them dinner, and he felt like he never saw her anymore. Sure, they were basically in the same room at that moment, but they didn't spend nearly as much time together now that Amy was back in her lab instead of by his side while they worked on Super Asymmetry. He missed her. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Hey. I love that you are being affectionate, but I need to finish dinner. Can we cuddle later?” Amy asked. She needed to move freely and their tiny kitchenette was far too small to fit both of them easily.

Sheldon felt a little dejected. It felt odd. In order to feel any kind of disappointment or rejection, he would have to admit that he wanted the love and affection to begin with. He just wanted some of Amy's attention and time. They were both just too busy these days. He didn't love it. He wanted one day of just spending time with his wife. He pulled out his phone to text Amy's new assistant, Ezra. The budget opened enough for Amy to hire the young man after the Nobel win. Sheldon had only spoken to him a couple times, but he had his number all the same.

“Hello. This is Dr. Sheldon Cooper. I am Dr. Fowler's husband. Is there a day next week that she is free or could have her schedule rearranged for a surprise day off?” Sheldon asked Ezra. After what happened when Sheldon had Amy's lab assignment taken away to help with their work, he wanted to make sure he wouldn't get in trouble for messing up her work by just taking her out of work for a day.

“She only has one meeting on Wednesday that could be moved to Friday. Should I block off the rest of Wednesday for you, Dr. Cooper?” Ezra wrote back quickly.

“Yes. I will be taking Dr. Fowler out for the whole day. Keep this our secret.”

“Thank you,” Sheldon added after a moment when he remembered that he should be polite. He sighed when he received a smiley face emoji back, but he decided to not follow down that path. It wasn't worth his time.

Sheldon then bought Amy and himself two tickets to Disneyland for Wednesday. They hadn't been in a long time, and it seemed like just the kind of day that they could just enjoy each other's company and some fun.

On Wednesday morning, Sheldon shook Amy awake. He normally let her wake naturally, but they still needed to get to Orange County in morning rush hour.

“What?” Amy asked groggily.

Sheldon put a pair of Mickey Mouse ears on his wife and grinned at her.

“We're going to Disneyland! Come on. Get up,” he said.

“I can't. I have work today. I have a meeting,” Amy said as she rolled back over to try to steal a few more minutes of sleep.

“I had Ezra reschedule it. You are completely free today.”

“Sheldon, you can't just have my assistant reschedule my whole day because you want to go to Disneyland. You have work today too,” Amy said with a sigh. He always just thought about himself.

“But I miss you,” Sheldon admitted. He didn't mean to be that honest with her, but it was probably the best argument he could have made. Amy softened and nodded her head. If her schedule was already cleared, she could take one day off from work. It wouldn't kill her to spend one day at a theme park with Sheldon, and she had to admit that they hadn't been spending enough time together lately.

Amy got dressed in a Disney dress she bought on a whim with Bernadette and the kids. Halley and Michael were surprisingly convincing when they urged her on to buy the dress with Mickey Mouse on it. It wasn't appropriate for work, but it was appropriate for a day of ditching work. Then she put the ears that Sheldon gave her back on top of her head. She was ready to go.

Sheldon looked like Sheldon, but he also had on a blue Mickey Mouse shirt that Amy had never seen before. He looked completely adorable even if he didn't look a thing like a 40 year old Nobel Laureate. It didn't matter. That wasn't the role he was playing today anyway. Today he was playing cute husband ditching work with his cute wife.

“What was the first appearance Mickey Mouse?” Sheldon asked his wife as they played a Disney themed trivia game he made up during the drive to Anaheim. It was a long drive, so of course they had to play some games to pass the time.

“Steamboat Willie,” Amy said confidently. This was a pretty easy question.

“No. It was a silent short called Plane Crazy.  Steamboat Willie was the first short with sound and was distributed first, but Plane Crazy premiered in May of 1928 and was rereleased the next year with sound,” Sheldon told her. It was rare that he knew something she didn't, and unlike if it were anyone else, Sheldon wasn't a jerk when he told Amy this factoid. He just filled her in and asked another question about Beauty and the Beast. Luckily, this time she knew that The Beast was just The Beast in the film and had no other name.

They arrived at the park, and Amy was so glad she let Sheldon talk her into this. He took her hand with the biggest smile on his face. She realized that she missed him just as much as he missed her. They would need to find an excuse to work together again soon.

“What's first?” Amy asked.

“Let's try to get Rise fo the Resistance,” Sheldon said. He hadn't had a chance to ride the newest Star Wars themed ride yet, but he had also heard it was nearly impossible to get a seat on the ride with its soft opening. Still, they would try. They each pulled out their phones to try to get in the virtual line for the ride.

It turned out Amy was Sheldon's lucky charm because they had two seats on the ride that afternoon. In the meantime, there were lots of rides they could go on first.

“Space Mountain?” Sheldon suggested next. It was always a good one to do first because he had an empty stomach instead of one full of too many snacks.

Amy grinned and took Sheldon's hand while they walked to the ride. She was able to tell him about her new project at work while they walked and stood in line. Sheldon listened and asked questions about her work. She knew that he believed that she should quit neuroscience to work with him full time, but her heart and training weren't in physics. Not really.

At they made their way across the park to The Haunted Mansion, Sheldon thought about telling Amy about his own work. Then he decided to tell her about what his Meemaw was up to these days instead. Not everything was about work. Especially on a day when they were ditching it in order to recharge and spend a day together.

“Meemaw won a poker tournament? That's seriously impressive for a 92 year old woman,” Amy said. In the years since they first met, Amy's relationship with Sheldon's grandmother had improved considerably. Amy even kind of liked her now.

“Yes. So now my mother is escorting her to Las Vegas for a weekend for the finals of this tournament. Mom is hoping to cleanse Sin City of all its sin while she is there,” Sheldon told Amy.

“If anyone can do it, it's your mother,” Amy agreed.

Both Sheldon and Amy had their favorite rides, snacks and shows, and they took turns picking things to do. With maybe too much focus on Sheldon's preferences. However, the park wasn't too busy, so they made efficient uses of FastPasses and were able to ride nearly every ride they wanted. While they waited in lines they were able to just talk in a way that they both often felt too busy to do these days.

“I am so glad that you suggested this,” Amy said as she leaned into Sheldon's side while they waited for the fireworks at the end of the night. It was the last thing they were going to do before the drive back to Pasadena.

Sheldon put his arm around Amy and pulled her closer to him. It wasn't like Sheldon had felt like his marriage was in trouble before today, but this day filled some reserve in him that he didn't realize was close to empty. Sheldon just loved Amy so much. He needed her in his life in a way that he had never really needed anyone.

“Me too. We need to do things like this more often, but perhaps scheduled in a way as to not miss work,” he told her. Then he felt the urge to do something with his wife that he had never done before. He leaned down and placed a sweet, gentle kiss on her forehead.

Amy sighed happily and looked up just as the fireworks show began. A perfect end to a perfect day.

[cavalierious-whim]

Parlay (FE3H)

FE3h | Sylvix | High-Seas AU | Teen | Complete

This time Sylvain's more than doubled his money, he's doubled his life.

####

A/N: Another one from last year! CW for a vague depiction of stitching up a wound. It's very minor. Read here on AO3 for better quality!

####

“You don’t seem the type to dabble with our kind of lot.”

Sylvain turns to the voice, meeting the youthful face of the captain. He’s younger than expected, but severe-looking with a narrow and angular face and circles cut so deep underneath his eyes that Sylvain wonders exactly what it was that put them there.

“Yeah,” says Sylvain, a signature smirk spreading wide across his face, channeling his well-practiced façade, “Pi--”

“Smugglers,” says the captain, interrupting.

“Smugglers,” repeats Sylvain. He’s not sure why the man cares because everyone already knows what they actually are. Pirates. A dubious lot known for bloodshed and riots, and rum and indulgence. Looking around the ship though, it looks more like a tightly run and well-oiled machine, than a drunken schooner.

The captain watches him for a long moment, midnight hair ruffling in the soft sea breeze. He looks mean, but not mean enough to be in this line of work. Then again, Sylvain’s new to all of this, so it’s not like he knows what to expect.

He’s only heard the wild stories of Felix the Blood Red and his rag-tag group of misfits.

“You’re a little green,” says Felix.

“Oh, I’m used to the sea--”

“I didn’t mean ill.” Felix has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Sylvain with a critical eye. “I meant new to smuggling.” Nothing seems to escape the man. Sylvain will have to tread lightly.

“Well, I used to run my goods legitimately,” says Sylvain, rubbing at his neck. “My father trusted me to overlook his operations.”

“Should he have?” asks Felix.

“Should he have what?” asks Sylvain.

“Trusted you,” says Felix, impatience creeping into his tone.

“Yes,” says Sylvain. Then he pauses. “At least, until he dealt with the kinds of goods that I don’t like.”

“Drugs?” asks Felix.

“Worse,” says Sylvain. He doesn’t need to elaborate for the both of them to glean his meaning. They both fall silent, Felix’s mouth twitching with slight annoyance and Sylvain feels a little bit guilty. “Oh don’t give me that look, I haven’t brought anything illegal aboard. You can check the crates.”

“Then why hire us?” asks Felix, nosier than Sylvain would like. But where he in his position, Sylvain might be just as nosey, if not more. Mostly because Felix is a cunning and interesting man at first glance. And he bets that the mystery only gets better the more he learns.

“I’m not taking them to where they are supposed to go,” Sylvain says simply. “My father wants things shipped south to the Empire.”

“We’re going north to Sreng,” Felix deadpans.

“Might I remind you that I am Sylvain Gautier.” The Gautier family, also known as the ginger scourge of the north, also known as super doesn’t trade with the Srengese. For reasons.

Felix looks at him differently now that he knows Sylvain’s funneling his father’s goods to the people that his family has all but destroyed over the centuries, lips tugged into a small little frown. And for a moment, Sylvain is worried that Felix will call off the job and dump his shipment into the sea. Sylvain would. He’s inviting more trouble than his coin is probably worth, and that’s not just him talking about his mission.

But then Felix drops his arms and sighs. “It’s none of my business,” says Felix.

“Felix--”

“That’s Captain to you,” Felix cuts in, leveling Sylvain with a solid glare. Then he turns away without another word. Sylvain watches him retreat with a rare smile, truly interested in the man.

Captain, it is.

#

It becomes Felix’s business months later after a high seas firefight with one of Sylvain’s father’s ships. It’s the third run that they’ve done together after the first proved to be successful.

“Shit,” Sylvain groans, arching up from the cot he’s spread out on. Mercedes hushes him but doesn’t let up, pressing the disinfectant against him with more force. “Merce, that burns--”

“Surely not as bad as my ship does,” says Felix from the doorway.

Sylvain’s mouth dries up at the sight of him because Felix is beautiful when he’s on edge and wired red-hot, face smudged with sweat and soot. He scowls at the sight of Sylvain, softens slightly at the sight of Mercedes, and then acerbically asks for the room to be cleared. His crew does as he asks, leaving the two of them alone.

“For the record,” starts Sylvain, “I thought it’d take longer for him to come after his shit.”

“After you, you mean,” says Felix.

“I meant what I said,” says Sylvain. A pregnant silence stretches between them before Felix lets out an annoyed grunt, crossing the room and dropping into the chair beside where Sylvain’s laying. He jerks Sylvain’s shirt up with none of the tenderness that Mercedes is known for and Sylvain hisses at the touch.

“You’ll live,” says Felix once he gets a good look.

“So I’ll make it?” says Sylvain in jest.

“Unfortunately,” says Felix with a little bite to his tone. But then his tone softens a little. “As long as it’s stitched up right and you don’t pull at it.”

“You told Merce to leave.”

“She taught me how to sew,” says Felix, pulling open her medical kit.

“The holes in your clothes!” Sylvain’s seen Felix mend clothes on slow afternoons, laying out below the noon sun and enjoying the ocean breeze. It’s a nice sight, one that he’s come to like, even if it has to be observed from afar. Felix is so rarely relaxed and never so much around him.

“The concept is the same,” says Felix. Then he sighs. “Look, I know how to stitch up a wound. I’ve done it plenty.”

The War, Sylvain assumes then, where Faerghus lost their King to the Empire and the nobility left sold their souls to the enemy for a small chance at survival. Gautier’s done relatively well in the aftermath and reconstruction because brownnosing is what his father is best at. Felix had seemed more like a soldier than a pirate, something Sylvain noticed after just a week on board.

Sylvain doesn’t ask for an explanation and Felix doesn’t give one. Instead, he threads a needle with thick, coarse thread. He disinfects the gash in Sylvain’s side once more for good measure and then jabs the needle through his skin with little ceremony.

“Warn a man!” Sylvain shouts, trying his best to not jerk.

Felix’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “First time getting stitches, then.”

“No,” says Sylvain, but then a small whine bubbles up through his lips. “Yes.”

Sylvain’s seen battle like anyone else in his station, but as the former heir to the Gautier fortune, it’d been a figurehead title more than anything. He’d spent most of his wartime in tents on the backlines, moving figures around, and wooing bedmates to just feel a little bit of something in his pathetic misery.

“My ship will be fine,” says Felix, tugging at the gash to properly close it. “There’s more damage to the sails, but nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Sylvain is quiet for a moment. “I really am sorry.”

Felix is quiet for a moment too, and then he says, “It’s the job. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn’t. We’ve pulled through worse.”

“My only goal is to get food and clothing to the people who need it,” says Sylvain.

“I know. It’s the only reason that I haven’t thrown you overboard yet.” Felix pulls the thread tight and knots it, before cutting the excess. “For the record, we sunk their ship.”

“Good riddance,” says Sylvain.

Felix watches him as he wipes his hands off on a rag. “You hate him. Your father, I mean.”

“Hate’s a strong word.” But when he meets Felix’s gaze, Sylvain’s eyes are a testy sea storm, and he’s practically frothing at the mouth in barely contained rage. “Okay, hate’s not a strong enough word.”

“I understand,” says Felix in a rare moment of personal expression. He runs his fingers over Sylvain’s ribs under the pretense of checking the wound one last time, but to Sylvain, it feels like an entirely different sort of touch. Especially because it lingers for just a little bit too long to be merely friendly.

“Captain,” starts Sylvain, reaching out to grasp at his hand. Felix doesn’t pull away, allowing the touch.

“Felix,” says Felix. “You can-- Look, Felix is fine.”

“It’s fine,” murmurs Sylvain, his free hand snaking up to brush Felix’s sweaty bangs back. “Are you sure that my highly moral do-gooding is the only reason you haven’t thrown me overboard?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” says Felix, but it lacks bite as he leans into the touch.

“I’m glad I won’t die,” says Sylvain, “and I’m glad we’ll do more runs together.” A pause. “We will continue our business, right?”

“Fool,” says Felix.

“Your fool?” asks Sylvain hopefully.

“You’re pushing your luck.”

“Is it working?”

They look at each other for a moment before Felix swoops down, pressing a kiss against Sylvain’s lips. It’s a sweet thing, far sweeter than Sylvain expects Felix to be. It’s all softness, lacking his carefully honed sharp edges, warm and kind, and genuine.

“So it worked,” says Sylvain against his lips, unable to stop himself from slipping into his teasing mask. Felix pulls away, a soft scowl on his lips. He lets go and stands. “I was joking,” says Sylvain. “Joking!”

“I can still make you walk the plank,” says Felix coolly.

“But you won’t,” says Sylvain.

There’s a beat and then Felix smiles actually smiles, and it’s weirdly radiant and Sylvain never wants to stop seeing it. “No, I won’t,” says Felix quietly. “But I can make you suffer in the meantime.” Then he turns to leave the small room.

“Come back,” says Sylvain as pathetically as he can. “I’m sorry!”

But then he hears the soft murmurs of the crew outside and then a short laugh that is distinctly Felix’s. Sylvain smiles. He’s injured, they’ve lost their sails and his father has put a number on his head. But Sylvain does good; he funnels his father’s goods to the people who actually need them.

And he’s got Felix. He doesn’t really know how or why, but he’s somehow managed, and he has no intention of ever letting go. Sylvain’s placed a lot of bets in his life, but rarely pan out the way that he wants them too. But this time? He’s more than doubled his money, he’s doubled his entire life.

So when Sylvain smiles it’s the first time in a long time that it actually means something.

[hailene]

𝚁𝚊𝚠  𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝚁𝚊𝚠 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚎| 07

𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

(𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮– 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘒𝘪𝘥𝘴, 𝘕𝘊𝘛, 𝘉𝘛𝘚, 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘦, (𝘎)𝘐-𝘋𝘓𝘌, 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘰, 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬)

Genre: angst, racing!au, college!au, gang!au, underworld!au

Word count: 4.6K

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

00|  01|  02|  03|  04|  05|  06|  07|  08|  09|  10|  tba

When we arrived here, I thought this was an underground parking lot– which wasn't completely false, since a few cars were parked in front of me. But as soon as I realized the walls were actually hidden cupboards, I figured out there was much more to this place than what met the eye.

What actually caught my eye at first was the car parked in the middle of the garage or whatever this was. A red line painted the sides of it like a warning, the metallic-black polish looking almost as catty as its owner. It was, of course, a car I had seen before at the racetrack- Jeonghan's car. It was shining in the white lights of the basement as if somebody had just washed it. Maybe that was what racers liked to do, take care of their cars with the price of their lives. Still, that doesn't exactly explain why Jeonghan's car was here.

"You're late," I hear a feminine voice behind us.

I turn around, startled and my eyes meet the figure of a gorgeous girl with a knife-like sharp gaze. Her wavy brown hair was falling on the sides of her face evenly, making her face look flawless. She was wearing a mini black skirt with an oversized olive T-shirt and black combat boots. Her attire made her look purely badass and I could only wonder if all the girls I was going to meet in this world were like this.

"I'm sorry, Jen," I hear Hoshi saying from beside me. "There was so much traffic you would have said it's the rush hour."

So is she Jennie?

The girl, Jen, didn't look amused by Hoshi's attempt to a joke, which made the latter one clear his throat awkwardly.

"You know I don't like it when people show up late," she speaks, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's a matter of mutual respect."

The boys seemed to feel as uncomfortable as me, but the girl was right. I know we were supposed to get here about fifteen minutes ago- which if you asked me wasn't that much, but things seem to work different here. I guess every second counts.

"We could leave... if we... bothered you too much..." I speak and I hear Jeonghan inhaling deeply beside me.

Normally, I wouldn't have said something like this, especially because I didn't know her and I didn't know anything about what she was capable of. I didn't even know why we were really here in the first place. I had no right to talk.

Did I already make a mistake?

"And you didn't tell me you were going to bring somebody else with you," she speaks, her eyes falling on me, and in that moment, I regret speaking in the first place.

To say I felt intimidated would have been a terrible understatement. Her eyes were digging into my soul and I could almost feel the life being sucked out of me under her gaze. I felt like a deer in lights, terrified but stoned. There was something about her, something incredibly raw, that was making me feel like she was a hunter. And I was the prey.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Emma," I say, mentally thanking my voice that it didn't crack.

Then, she looks at the two boys beside me. The tension was so thick I could almost cut it with a knife.

"You're forgiven this once," she speaks, raising her index finger as a warning. "But that's because she's pretty."

My eyes widen and my heart stops for a second, wondering if she was kidding or if she simply wanted to make me feel bad. Jeonghan chocked on saliva and Hoshi seemed to be as surprised as I was. Her eyes land on me again and for a second, I can see a glint of something that was contrasting with her earlier-self so much. A glint of warmth, of emotion.

"Oh, you're finally here," I hear another voice saying and I spin around, only to see another gorgeous girl who looked a bit taller than the first one, her features looking softer, warmer.

Her ash-grey hair was cut right under her shoulders, bangs covering her forehead. Her big eyes held some sort of spark of happiness, I could only guess that she was much friendlier and bubblier than "Jen".

Her eyes widened in confusion when I met her gaze, but it didn't last long until she gave me a sweet smile. She was wearing camo pants and a white crop top, an outfit which was showing what a model body she had.

What are these girls doing in an underground garage like this?

"I'm Lisa," she speaks, while looking at me. "Jeonghan, it's all done."

She turns towards the boy on my left with the same unfaltering smile. However, she was stepping closer to Jeonghan's car, which made me realize what she was talking about.

"The scratches weren't bad, but you might want to be careful where you park this sweetheart from now on, you'll wake up with your brakes cut if you keep being careless," Lisa added, looking at Jeonghan's car, lost in thoughts.

"Anything else? I thought you'd have to deal with the transmissions too," Jeonghan said, approaching his car as well.

"Yeah, Jennie said so, too, but everything else was alright," Lisa shrugs.

"I wanted to test it out a bit, but I thought I should wait for the owner," Jennie says, throwing something at Jeonghan.

He catches it naturally and the metallic glint of the object makes me realize it's the key of his car. His lips curve into a wicked smile as he raises his head to look at Jennie.

"Down for a ride?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest again and he tilts his head to the side, amused.

"Let's go," he speaks before getting in the driver's seat.

Jennie enters the car as well, sitting in the passenger's seat. My breathing stops for a few seconds as I watch her short skirt sliding up her thigh. She didn't even bother to pull it back. If only I had the confidence she had.

If only I had the body she had.

Of course Jeonghan wouldn't have anything against having such a pretty girl like her as his passenger. Of course he would enjoy it. Who wouldn't?

I watch as the car leaves the garage, the engine roaring bitterly in my ears. Why can't I move?

He knows how things work, for God's sake, he's not a kid anymore. He knows better than to do regrettable things.

Doesn't he?

"Don't worry," I hear Hoshi saying beside me and I shake my head, smiling.

I want to say that I am not even worrying. But that would probably be a lie.

"Are you a racer?" Lisa asks, waking me up from my thoughts, and I turn around.

She was looking at me with her big eyes filled with curiosity. She is so pretty, I can't help but think. I can't really understand how and why I should be afraid of her. Jennie could be frightening, but Lisa seemed sweet.

However, she is a steel queen. And Vernon told me to be careful with them. I trust Vernon.

"No," I answer.

Her eyes flash with surprise for a second.

"The way you looked at Jeonghan's car tricked me into believing so," she chuckled.

Hoshi was watching the two of us in silence, something that was felt so unlike him. Am I not supposed to talk? Why is he watching me so carefully?

In the meantime, Lisa plumps herself on a chair nearby, letting out an exhausted sigh. The screech of the chair on the concrete floor echoes in the garage. We were the only ones down here and everything was silent. I remember the huge villa I saw before entering this basement and I can't help but wonder if Jennie and Lisa live there.

"I'm sorry I can't be a good host tonight, I haven't slept in two days," she speaks, making me slightly flinch.

That's how she looks after not sleeping two days?

For a second, a warning alarm rings in my head, but I push it away before I can figure out what it actually is about.

Before I can think further, the familiar roar of an engine echoes in the garage and I turn around to see Jeonghan's car approaching us. Well, that was fast.

He parks in front of us and gets out of the car shortly after Jennie does. The girl had a small smile on her face that made me feel bitter-

Oh come on, stop being like this...

"The test went smoothly, our job is done for now," Jennie says and Jeonghan nods.

"Thank you," he says. "I don't think I'll be racing again anytime soon anyway, but who knows?"

"Don't play, Yoon, you know the investors are coming in a few months," Jennie speaks on an annoyed tone.

The investors?

"Still debating whether I need them or not," he shrugs before turning to me. "You coming?"

My eyebrows arch in surprise. Is he asking me to... come with him? In his car? Dammit, why am I making such a big deal out of it, it's just a car, it's just a ride. Why does it feel so personal to me?

The devil smiles before looking at Hoshi.

"We'll be leaving first, thanks for driving us here," he says and Hoshi nods with a small smile on his lips.

He seemed to be very distracted, but I couldn't really tell why. Was it because of the two girls? What was there about them that could make even Hoshi be afraid?

"It was nice meeting you," Jennie speaks and I nod, trying to look like I was detached.

I was not.

"You, too," I say, trying on a smile and hoping it doesn't look too fake.

Hoshi watches me with a glint of relief in his eyes. Lisa was still smiling sweetly, but the moment I looked at her, I felt the sudden urge to leave this place as soon as possible. Trust no one. Sometimes, trusting no one could make me unstoppable.

But other times, not having faith in the others was exactly what stopped me.

Jeonghan gets in the driver's seat and starts the engine. I mentally pray I won't die tonight. Even though every inch of my body felt electrified, I couldn't wash away the realization of the fact that this was my first time in a race car. This was the first time I was alone in a car with Jeonghan. Is it why I'm afraid? Or is it something else?

Right now, I can't tell.

And then, I slide in the passenger's seat beside him.

"Were you jealous?" Is the first thing he says, seconds after we leave the garage.

I frown, despite the knot formed in my stomach. Was I jealous? Don't you have to feel something for a person in order to be jealous? Physical attraction doesn't count.

"Why would I be?" I ask, looking at the lamp posts on the sides of the street.

If I looked at him, he would probably notice the redness in my cheeks. I can't risk it.

"That I took Jennie for a ride," he says detached.

"Well, wasn't that what you had to do anyway?" I say, trying to sound casual.

He huffs ironically.

"Not really," he says and I turn my head towards him. "I knew they fixed everything there was to fix, I just wanted to take Jennie for a ride."

Despite the bitterness that suddenly washes over me again, I manage to smile. Almost genuinely.

"Do you wish I was jealous, though?" I ask and he looks at me for a second before focusing on the road again.

"To be honest, yeah," he says and my eyes widen.

What did he just say?

"It's frustrating not knowing whether what I do can affect you or not," he says on a sincere tone that honestly, only he could pull in such circumstances.

I stare at his side profile, not knowing what to say. His blonde hair looked like silver in the dim night lights. His eyes were trained on the road and his grip on the steering wheel was firm. I never knew exactly why I was so drawn to Jeonghan. That was why I couldn't stop this. And it was scary. I hated the feeling of being scared. I hated fear. But I couldn't hate him. Who are you really?

I sigh, moving my gaze towards the road, since a feeling of uneasiness was beginning to take over me. His driving style was ruthless, as if he had nothing to lose. I wasn't necessarily scared, but I couldn't say I was exactly calm.

Even though, well, that might have been because of something else.

"How does knowing for sure help you?" I ask.

He doesn't answer immediately and I fight the urge to turn my head towards him.

"It doesn't, right?" He answers bitterly. "I guess it's better if I don't know, then."

This image of him is so unlike the person I've seen him being so far. So different, that I almost doubt it's real. It's the first time I see Jeonghan being this... heartbroken. Not over me, maybe not over anybody, just...

"Shit," I hear him hissing and I turn my head to look at him confused.

His eyes were darting between the rearview mirror and the road ahead of us. We were in a lively neighborhood, close to the downtown. I look in the wing mirror from my side and I see the blind lights of another car following us closely.

"Take my hoodie and cover your face as much as possible," he says, reaching with his right hand in the backseat, only to hand me a black hoodie seconds later.

I do as he says, without questioning it too much. His hoodie smelled like musk and soap. I shiver.

He accelerates and we fly past the neon lights of the New York's night locals. He wasn't relaxed anymore, I could tell in the way his jaw was set firmly and in the way his knuckles were almost white on the steering wheel. Something was wrong if even Yoon Jeonghan was anxious.

"I need to switch with somebody," he says on a low tone and I frown confused once again. "Dammit, we're still far away from Joshua's... it will take them too long to get here..."

He presses on the touch screen of his car and enters his contact list. He slides his finger impatiently a few times and eventually presses it against a square, with "Dokyeom" written on it.

The dial sound of a phone rings in the car but a few seconds pass before the robot lets us know the line is not available at the moment. Jeonghan exhales deeply, visibly annoyed by the current situation.

I look in the rearview mirror again but the car was still after us. Who is that?

"What the fuck is he doing?" Jeonghan hisses while sliding his fingers a few times again.

He then taps on a square with an eight written on it.

The same dialing sound rings again in the car and I can feel myself growing anxious. The shops and the locals were flying past us at the speed of light and I knew Jeonghan wasn't calm either.

"Yeah?"

My breath hitches. It was obvious that THE 8 was the one Jeonghan called, but hearing his calm voice at the other end of the line somehow startled me.

"Are you at work?" Jeonghan asks, obviously trying his best to stay calm.

"Yes," THE 8 says.

"I'll be there in a few," Jeonghan says. "I need you to take Emma home."

"Okay, meet me in the parking lot," THE 8 says before ending the call.

He didn't even ask why.

Jeonghan suddenly pulls at the steering wheel and takes a turn on a side street, accelerating even more. I was trying my best not to shriek in fear, nor to do anything that could annoy him in any way. It was weird to see him mad.

After multiple turns, I could no longer see the car following us. We were safe, for now.

"We'll stop by Eight's workplace, he'll take you home," Jeonghan explains. "Them following me is not a problem... but if I let them see you, Olivia is going to torture me in fifty different ways."

I nod, not being able to say anything else. I was afraid that if I had opened my mouth, I would have cried. Because I was scared, in a way I had never been before.

A few moments later, we enter the small parking lot of a building that looked like a small company. A few lights were still on, it wasn't that late yet. Maybe there still were people working extra-hours. The thought made me feel upset for a few seconds, reminding me of my parents and of what I left behind when I came to America.

But I didn't have time to cry right now.

I spot a dark figure in front of us, sitting on a motorbike and I realize it's none other than THE 8. Is he going to take me home... on his motorbike?

Great, I really have to die tonight.

"Go," Jeonghan says, unlocking the doors.

I open the door and hesitate for a split second.

"Take care," I say and he turns his head towards me.

For a second, he is surprised. I realize I can't watch him being like this, I can't watch him being vulnerable, because the memory of it will trick me into thinking I can make him feel something.

The next thing I know, I'm running across the parking lot towards THE 8.

*

"I'll be driving fast so you have to hold on tightly, alright?" THE 8 says while clipping the clasp of the helmet under my chin.

I nod and get on the motorbike, almost quivering in fear.

"Don't worry," he says lightly before bringing the engine to life.

I was clenching onto his jacket, hoping I won't be blown off my seat. This was the first time I was on a motorbike and to say I was feeling anxious would have been an understatement.

Especially with the most skilled biker I have ever seen in my entire life.

"You can put your hands around my waist if it makes you feel safer," THE 8 says while pulling his hood over his black hair.

I hesitate for a bit, but he was right. Putting my hands around his waist was the safest way I could cling to him. Sure, it felt intimate. But I didn't have time to feel flustered now.

The motorbike starts moving and I instantly curl my arms around his waist, already scared for the upcoming ride. Jeonghan's car leaves the parking lot and heads on the street from the right side. As soon as we leave, we go left.

The helmet was blocking a bit of the loud noise. My eyes were shut closed. All I could think of was how much I wanted to wake up in the warm living room of Joshua's house. It wasn't home, but it had started to make me feel safe. And I took that feeling for granted up till now.

However, at some point, I open my eyes slowly, somehow surprised of the feeling that the motorbike ride was giving me. We were on the highway already and we were flying with a speed that would normally make me feel nauseous.

But this was different.

This, right now, made me feel... alive.

I was looking around me as much as possible, amazed by the speed that everything was passing with in front of my eyes. This is probably illegal, I think to myself. We're going too fast to be within the speed limit.

But I find myself not caring.

Despite the anxiousness that I could bet I was going to feel, despite the fact that usually, I would be terrified when driving at such a high speed, I was smiling. This was nothing like what I have imagined it being, it feels like the reality is whirling around me and my only anchor is...

THE 8.

I turn my head towards him, but all that I can see is the back of his head. His hood has fallen off and his black hair was ruffled by the chili wind. How is he so good at driving this? And how is he so calm?

I push the thoughts aside in order to let myself enjoy the rest of the ride. But like any other wonder, it wasn't meant to last. A couple of minutes later, THE 8 pulled on the street of Joshua's house. However, he stopped a few houses away from the destination. The raw sound of the engine died down and the wind stopped blowing so harshly. It all felt like somebody pressed the "pause" button and the world stopped moving.

I get off, realizing that THE 8 is not going to go further than this. Then, he follows suit, ruffling the hair that got in his eyes. He unclasps the ties of my helmet and I take it off, finally being able to fully take in my surroundings. My head was slightly aching but if that was the price I had to pay for the feeling of freedom that I could almost taste a few minutes ago, it meant absolutely nothing.

"Are you alright?" He asks on a genuine tone.

I look at him and nod. He smiles and lets out a heavy breath. He must be tired, I tell myself. Who knows?

"You should go, I'll be watching from here," he says, leaning against the motorbike.

I frown.

"Why aren't you coming with me?" I ask, looking in the distance at the house I was supposed to arrive at.

He shrugs lightly.

"I don't think Jeonghan wants them to know what happened," he says with a simplicity that confuses me. "I won't be the judge on that."

I nod, eventually figuring out that most likely, he's right. However, I still couldn't get over the fact that he didn't even ask why he had to drive me home. He didn't even hesitate in helping Jeonghan. There was something more to them that I was not sure if I was ready to find out about.

"Thank you," I say, trying to calm down the adrenaline that was still pumping in my veins.

I can't believe I liked it. I can't believe I wasn't scared.

"You're welcome," he says and I figure out it's time for me to leave.

I step towards Joshua's house hesitantly. The street was silent, so silent that my own breath was ringing like a terrible noise in my ears. I couldn't be tired. It was something else. When I finally reach the doorstep, I turn around slowly as if wanting to make sure I haven't been hallucinating all along. The dark figure of the biker boy who was watching me calmly sets a warm relief in me. And I enter the house.

*

When I entered the library, Minho was already there. His face lit up in a smile when his eyes met mine and I couldn't help but smile as well. I sat on the chair next to his and pulled my laptop out of my backpack. He had his laptop on the desk already, but things were not that easy at digital design and I knew I needed my laptop anyway.

"Thank you so much for this," Minho says while I wait for my laptop to load the programs we needed.

I wave him off.

"Stop mentioning it, I've already told you it's my pleasure," I say, trying not o lose focus too much.

He smelled so nice I was about to cry.

His dark clothes and steel-like accessories were still part of his outfit. Even though at a first glance he might look weird, I was starting to like it. There was some sort of catch to it, his vibe was truly something else.

We decided to meet on Saturday at the library so we could get some work done. It was pretty refreshing since I didn't have many assignments for the next week. Also hanging out with normal people, that were not involved in some gang thingie, felt really nice.

It was almost like I could forget what was waiting for me at "home".

"So I want to make it look like that... but I have no idea how I can do this on a laptop," Minho says pointing towards his sketch of a car near his laptop. "Is it even possible?"

I hum in agreement and place my laptop closer him, so he can see better. He helps me, probably noticing that I'm trying not to use my right hand too much the burn wasn't that bad anymore, but I still had my hand bandaged. Joshua said it was going to heal only in two weeks or so. There was nothing I could do about it.

"So this program can help you with the sketch... I have a better one for the design part though," I speak and click multiple times on my touchpad.

"Do you think it's stupid?" He asks and I frown.

"Why would you think that?" I say, turning my head towards him. He was looking at his paper sketch with sad eyes. "I think it's beautiful... and worth the hard work."

He smiles. And I can't help but smile as well.

Two hours and a half fly without us noticing. I was expecting it to take a while, but the complexity of Minho's project was beyond my expectations. He was curious and passionate about everything that I was doing, every suggestion I was making. It felt nice, having someone trying to understand what you do. Especially because he seemed to understand why I was doing it in the first place.

He was sweet and funny so spending time in his company didn't feel like a burden. A part of me screamed that I had to be careful with anybody, but the other one was too happy that I could do what I like and have someone admiring me for it. Maybe a childish thought, but it was something I barely ever had.

When I check my phone, my mind goes blank for a second. I had lost track of time and there were only about two hours before the weekly race was going to start. I had to get back at Joshua's, get ready for tonight and most importantly, eat something. I was not going to make the same mistake twice.

"Would you mind if we called it a day?" I ask, looking at him as he was struggling to work with my graphic tab.

He turns his head towards me with wide eyes.

"Oh, no, of course not," he smiles. "I'm sorry I held you captive for so long, I didn't even realize..."

"Don't apologize, I'm happy to help," I chuckle. "I'll see you next week?"

He nods with a small smile on his lips.

"Hey, Emma?" I hear Minho saying while we gather our stuff in order to leave.

I look at him, wondering why he called my name. His back was facing the large windows of the library and so the warm sunset light was making him seem like he had a halo.

Beautiful, I find myself thinking.

"Thank you so much... for everything," he says.

And it sounds so genuine in my ears.

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

00|  01|  02|  03|  04|  05|  06|  07|  08|  09|  10|  tba

[supercasey]

Nomad of Nowhere Modern Twins AU Camping Shenanigans

I did this because I have fucking writer’s block and my new medication for my depression/anxiety is making me feel a bit sucky as I get used to it, so here, have some antics that I may or may not try writing/drawing sometime.

I’m gonna set this camping trip when Hunter and Skout are in high school (both 15) and Melinda is still in elementary school (9).

For context, Benjamin and Annabeth are absolutely nature enthusiasts- I mean, they built their own fucking house for crying out loud!- so camping trips aren’t all that out of place for them, but this time they insist that their oldest kids bring their friends from school along! (Last time they brought some of Melinda’s friends, they accidentally started a fire, and no one wants to relive that shit.)

Skout brings Toth, who’s nervous AF to meet Skout’s parents (she knows they’re pretty damn accepting and in a polyam relationship, but I doubt anyone’s all that excited to meet their significant other’s folks), while Hunter brings the Three Amigos, which of course includes Null, who he only just started dating in secret.

While Ben and Anna are really freaking hyped for the trip, Adrian is a bit less excited, as he fucking loathes outdoor activities of any kind (the family has countless pictures of them all together after a hike, and Adrian always looks close to passing out in them), but he’s excited to meet his kids’ friends!

The whole group road trips to a nice forest that they can camp in, but due to the size of their crew, they split into two vans: Benjamin, Annabeth, Skout, Toth, and Melinda are in one van, with Adrian, Hunter, Null, Santi, and Jethro are in the other.

The road trip is a fucking MESS; Ben and Anna keep arguing over directions (despite Skout offering her phone for GPS, also Ben can’t drive at all but Anna drives like a maniac), so they get lost for several hours.

In the meantime, Adrian’s van is loud AF, since the Three Amigos are a pretty rowdy bunch, and Hunter convinced his dad to let him choose the music, which is just Lemon Demon at top volume for several hours straight. Adrian is in hell and it’s Touch-Tone Telephone on repeat.

Thankfully, once they get to the campsite, things are looking up... except that Don Paragon’s family has their giant ass RV parked directly next to the family’s campsite, and Don brought Red Manuel along because his parents told him to bring a friend from school. Needless to say, none of the teens are happy to see each other outside of school.

Santi and Jethro almost get fucking lost in the woods at some point, but they end up finding a really nice little unpolluted lake to swim in when they do. They run and grab Hunter and Null to go swimming, and it’s fun until Don shows up and bitches about how since his family is wealthier, it’s his and (I guess) Red’s private lake to swim in (it isn’t), and how if they don’t leave he’ll call the cops on them (he wouldn’t).

During this rant, Toth and Skout finally catch up to the boys, and seeing Don Paragon doing his usual BS, Toth simply picks him up and tosses him into the lake, getting his fancy bathrobe and slippers soaked.

Don goes OFF, but gets cut off when Skout, who’s stronger than she looks, picks up Red and tosses him in on top of Don. Everyone laughs (even Red, though he’s smart enough to hide it), before continuing with their swim (though Don still bitches the whole time).

Meantime, the parents aren’t doing much better. Ben and Anna start engaging in a sort of “Parent Contest” with Don Paragon’s folks, trying to insist that they’re cooler parents/have better kids.

Ben vs Don’s Dad is a lot more hostile/direct, while Anna vs Don’s Mom is a lot more passive aggressive and soccer mom-like.

Ben: “Oh, yer son’s got straight A’s? Well mine can fuckin’ backflip ‘n clap at the same damn time! How ya like dat, Michael!?”

Anna: “Aw, Karen, your son is such a sweet boy! :) Remember the time he made Hunter cry, so Skout threw him off a jungle gym? :)) They grow up so fast! :)))”

Meanwhile, Adrian and the Paragon family’s butler shoot the shit over some beers and ignore their companions’ bullshit.

Despite all of the arguing earlier, Don’s folks are convinced that Hunter and Don are best friends for some reason, so they insist on doing a huge family cookout, which everyone else begrudgingly agrees to, if only because Ben is excited about eating free “rich people food” (which Adrian reminds him isn’t all that better than middle class food, but whatever).

In short; El Rey (Adrian’s dog) eats a bunch of raw hotdogs and pukes them up in Anna’s purse, Skout and Toth almost kiss but Hunter accidentally ruins it by playing his guitar right next to them, Melinda keeps sneaking punches at Don when no one’s looking because that bitch made her big bro cry a lot when he was younger, Ben accidentally sets his poncho on fire, and Null, Santi, and Jethro all get food poisoning from Adrian’s under-cooked hamburgers.

At one point, Nomad (Hunter’s cat) runs off after hearing a loud bang from the woods. At this point, it’s really late at night, and Nomad is a black cat, so no one can find him. Hunter goes into hysterics, as Nomad is his closest friend/therapy cat, so after all the parents go to bed, the teens agree to put aside their differences and go to find Nomad.

Don, of course, makes it about himself and insists he’ll find the cat first, and when he does, he expects Hunter (he makes a mean joke about Skout needing to do it for him) to give him a sincere thank you, and then an apology for his family’s horrid behavior towards him! With that, he storms off, Red Manuel hot on his heels but looking a bit... frustrated? How very weird.

Hunter is so freaked out, he just starts running through the woods looking for Nomad, but luckily for him, Melinda can keep up with him. She’s trying to get him to go back to the campsite, as he’s too worked up to be looking for Nomad, and after trying and failing to talk him into listening to her, Melinda simply sits down and fake-sobs, saying she’s scared. Snapped out of it by big brother instincts, Hunter picks her up and takes her back to camp to wait with her until someone finds Nomad.

Seeing as the Three Amigos are as sick as El Rey was earlier (oh dear god, did Anna flip about the puke in her purse), it’s up to Skout, Toth, Don, and Red to find Nomad.

Toth and Skout use the time to talk in privacy, discussing future plans and how this trip has gone. Skout is embarrassed, worried that Toth hated this trip/hates her family, while Toth is convinced she made a bad impression on Skout’s parents. It’s a bit awkward, but they manage to convey their worries to each other and have them reassured away.

During this moment, they end up in a nice little clearing with dandelions sprouting everywhere. Skout laughs, and says something about how although she thinks the Dandy Lion mascot at school is dumb, she’s always loved dandelions. Toth, in response, plucks the largest one and braids it into Skout’s hair.

Skout’s Honor finally gets their fucking kiss, since up until now it’s kept almost happening, but due to public embarrassment/awkwardness, they’ve held back. Now though, away from everyone, they get enough privacy to have their first ever kiss.

Of course, it doesn’t last long before Red Manuel pokes his head through the trees and asks what tf they’re doing. Both girls go scarlet, insisting it was nothing, while Red simply cackles.

Toth goes to punch him in the jaw, but stops mid-swing when Red, in a panic, holds up Nomad to stop her.

Both Toth and Skout are baffled, surprised that Red managed to catch Nomad. Toth, who’s never much liked Red, asks why tf he’s not trying to use Nomad as leverage over them, or better yet, why didn’t he give Nomad to Don so he could use the cat to bully Hunter some more.

For the first time ever, Red seems genuinely upset with Don, and vents to the couple that Don Paragon’s been an asshole to him the entire trip, and only brought him along to make himself look good in front of his parents. He goes on to say that Don ordered him not to talk in front of his folks, and although Red hated the very idea, he agreed because it was better than staying at home with his mom all summer.

Skout grows concerned immediately, and tries to ask about Red’s mom, but he clams up, insisting that Skout just take her brother’s dumb cat (who seems to really like Red) because he doesn’t want to listen to Hunter freak out anymore.

After Hunter is finally reunited with Nomad, he’s absolutely ecstatic, hugging his cat while dancing around with joy. Once Skout tells him that Red Manuel found Nomad, Hunter doesn’t hesitate to run and hug him. Red obviously enjoys the affection, but he tries to play it off nonetheless.

Don eventually finds out that Nomad was found, and freaks tf out about how he was supposed to find him, and that he was supposed to get an apology, dammit!

Toth fucking snaps, telling Don straight up that he’s a piece of shit and should just be happy that Nomad got found, to which Don says pointblank that he wishes Nomad had gotten eaten by a bear, if only so he could see that “R-slur mute’s” face when he found the cat’s remains. Hunter starts crying, horrified by the mental imagery, while Don laughs at him, calling Hunter a pussyboy for crying. Red Manuel, in his rage at his so-called friend’s terrible behavior, punches Don in the dick.

Don is Surprised Pikachu Face(TM), because what tf is Red doing? He’s supposed to be Don’s little yes-man! Tbh, everyone is shocked, and Red finally loses his shit, shouting that Don is an awful fucking friend, and that he resents even knowing him.

((Me? Craving a future Red Manuel Redemption Arc(TM) almost as much as Season 2 of NoN? It’s more likely than you think.))

By now, the parents start waking up, and Don’s dad asks his son what’s going on. Smirking, and with his back turned to his father, Don says that Red is going to be going home with Hunter’s family, as he believes he’s about to strand Red in the wilderness as payback.

Red is freaked out, and makes to beg for Don’s forgiveness, when Skout outright confirms that yes, Red is coming with them, because Red is their friend!

Don is shocked again, but his parents just shrug and tell everyone to go back to bed. Adrian and Ben (the only ones who woke up, because Anna’s a heavy sleeper) are confused, but when Skout tells them that Red needs a ride later, they just shrug and say something like “Eh, what’s one more fucking kid?”

Red is nervous as fuck the next morning, still reeling over what he said to Don, but everyone (even the Three Amigos, who are all still pretty sick) assure him that he did the right thing.

Ben, Anna, and Adrian agree to pack up a bit early that morning, on account of the Paragon family terrorizing them, the Three Amigos getting sick, and almost losing Nomad. However, to make up for the short and crazy trip, they offer to host a slumber party at their house for all the teens, which everyone is on-board with.

Red’s a bit hesitant to agree, and says they can just drop him off near his place and he can leave them be, but Ben, sensing the kid’s anxiety, assures him that he’s welcome to stay with them for the night. After Skout tells him the same thing (with Hunter nodding in agreement), Red agrees, and has an awesome time with everyone!

At the start of the next school year (sophomore year/10th grade), Red Manuel goes back to hanging out with Don Paragon, but he’s noticeably less mean to the twins, and even gets caught helping Hunter pick up his books a few times when Don knocks them out of his hands in the hall.

Sorry, this kinda ended up as more of an “I love Red Manuel, or at least, my characterization of him” rant, but oh well, I hope y’all like my dumb rambling anyways!

[myaekingheart]

111. Fluff

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

               Spring, traditionally, serves as a time for rebirth and reflection. A season devoted to shedding the hefty layers of winter in preparation for warmer weather. There were none who understood this quite so well as Toshio, as Rei would unfortunately soon discover.

               As the temperature increased, Toshio’s thick undercoat began rising to the surface in thick puffs of fluff. Downy wads of fur slid across the living room floor and collected in piles like cherry blossoms on the ground. His entire coat had grown pluckery with excess fluff.

               Rei tried to ignore it as best as she could. She had assumed that if this was a yearly tradition, then there was no need to interfere. It never seemed to be much of an issue before. However, this year seemed far worse than any previous. There was hair in her shower and hair in her bed and hair in her food. Groaning, she flung a wad of fluff into the trash can. Oh my god, I can’t do this anymore.

               The only logical solution was to brush him. She grabbed the cheap plastic dog brush from the junk drawer in the kitchen and lured Toshio nearer with the promise of snacks. He lumbered forward and behaved himself as she combed through his coat, almost even enjoying the chore with spotted tongue lopping lazily out of the side of his mouth. The issue, however, was that the bristles were too far too short. They only did a fraction of the job that Rei needed them to do. By the time Kakashi returned home from work that day, Rei was smothered in dog hair. Toshio seemed completely unaffected, if not delighted.

               Kakashi slipped out of his vest and kicked his shoes off at the front door. “You look good in white” he jested.

               Rei huffed a ball of fluff out of her bangs and frowned. “This is seriously getting out of hand” she complained. “I don’t know what else to do. The fluff is out of control.”

               Kneeling down beside her, Kakashi plucked another puffball from Rei’s hair as he inspected the brush. “Maybe we need to get a new one” he contemplated. “Since this one evidently is not cutting it.”

               “Clearly” Rei sighed, falling back onto the floor. Toshio smacked his lips as he scooted nearer to lick her face. He was relentless, continuing until she was sticky with slobber. She shooed him away between uproarious laughter, gasping for breath.

               Kakashi placed his hands on either side of Toshio’s bulky body and began scratching him where he liked, a cloud of dog hair floating up around them in response. Chuckling, Kakashi pulled another tuft of hair from his coat and inspected it. “You should get married in this” he jested.

               “Very funny” Rei rolled her eyes.

               “No, I’m serious” Kakashi replied. “Think about it, you wouldn’t have to spend a single cent on your wedding dress.”

               Rei pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets and shook her head. “I don’t even want to think about the wedding right now” she complained.

               “Oh?” Kakashi asked, cocking a brow. “Have you changed your mind? Because I was just joking about the dog hair.”

               “No” Rei assured him. “No, of course I haven’t changed my mind. I just feel kind of, I don’t know…aimless. I don’t know the first thing about planning a wedding and it’s starting to bother me.”

               Toshio sat down with a thud, panting happily as he clued into the conversation. Kakashi scratched behind his ear as he asked, “What do you mean? Do you feel pressured to get everything sorted right away? Because we’re allowed to take our time.”

               “Maybe a little bit” Rei replied. “It’s not like anyone has said anything. I just feel like, I don’t know, we’ve been engaged for a month now and we haven’t figured anything out yet. I don’t want to rush through wedding planning, either, but I still feel like maybe we should start looking into what we should be doing.”

               “Okay” Kakashi smiled. “We can start researching this week if you want.”

               Rei nodded slowly but it was clear to Kakashi that there was still something more bothering her. He waited a few more moments before finally asking her what was wrong. “I’m sorry, I’m just…a little stressed” Rei finally replied.

               “What are you stressed about?” Kakashi asked. “Besides the wedding, I mean. Is there anything I can help with?”

               Sighing, Rei propped her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. Sekkachi and I had a bit of an argument at the dango shop the other day—she seems to think us having a baby is a bad idea or something. I’m getting nervous about whether we were actually successful, and in the meantime I’ve been trying to focus on the wedding to keep my mind off of everything else but that’s only stressing me out even more because of how lost I feel. And to top it all off, Lady Tsunade is moving me to the night shift.”

               The night shift? Kakashi cocked a brow and considered everything she had told him. That little part about her career really stood out to him, however. “I wonder why she’s changed your shift” he asked.

               “Hell if I know” Rei complained. “The past week it’s felt like she’s been upping the ante with these missions but I don’t know if she is, in fact, loading more work onto me or if it just feels like more work.”

               Kakashi pasted a sympathetic smile on his face as he reached over and rubbed Rei’s stomach. “Sounds like you’ve had a lot on your plate” he said.

               She had to admit, Kakashi’s affirmation of her stress was incredibly refreshing. Rei didn’t like to complain about work. She had fought so hard to get to this point, it just didn’t feel right. That did not, however, negate the accompanying stress of her career. And as for Sekkachi, it was a wonder how Rei had still not grown accustomed to her brash honesty. Nearly twenty years of friendship and it still consistently caught her off-guard.

               “I think I just need a break or something” Rei admitted, though she hated to say that. She didn’t feel like she deserved it. She felt like wanting a break made her weak, even if logically it was well-deserved.

               Kakashi watched her for a moment, studying how tense and washed out her face appeared and the especially messy nature of her hair. He leaned over then and kissed her gently, but in the back of his mind, he was plotting. If it was a break she needed, then it was a break she was going to get.

               The following morning, Kakashi drew Rei into the living room with a terrible smile. Without affording her any explanations, he blindfolded her and began carefully guiding her out of the apartment building. Toshio walked closely beside her, providing additional assistance.

               “Well, I guess we know who to trust if you ever go blind” Kakashi jested, smiling to the dog. Toshio barked happily in response, licking at Rei’s fingers.

               “Kakashi, can you please tell me what’s going on?” Rei asked. She could feel the sun on her face, hear the chattering of passerby in the village streets. The sweet scent of the dango shop enticed her and she regretted having skipped breakfast.

               Kakashi shook his head, vocalizing his refusal with a melodic hum. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked as he helped her around a corner.

               “Kakashi, come on!” Rei whined. “I don’t have time for this. I have work in eight hours. I need sleep!”

               “Well, this shouldn’t take that long” Kakashi replied. He could hardly fight the smile on his face as he then steadied her and added, “Besides, we’re already here.” He removed her blindfold and it was clear he was far too happy with himself. Standing before her was the entrance to the Konoha Hot Springs. Rei blinked, utterly confused, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

               “K-Kakashi, what is all of this about?” she laughed, turning to him.

               “You said you needed a break, so here’s your break!” he grinned.

               As flattered as she was, this meant nothing to her obligations. She truly could not afford to take a break. She had to research wedding planning necessities, she had to figure out how to best care for Toshio’s shedding problem, she had to force herself to sleep so she could function come nightfall. “Kakashi, I don’t want to seem like I’m not grateful, because I am, but…” she stammered, “I have too much shit to do! I just…I can’t!”

               Kakashi shook his head, taking her by the shoulders from behind and guiding her into the lobby. “Now I don’t want you to worry about any of that!” he insisted. “It’s all taken care of.”

               Rei was barely given a chance to respond before one of the nakai working the springs had taken over and guided her into the women’s locker room. All Rei could manage was a confused, incredulous, and slightly bothered glance over her shoulder before she disappeared.

               A small smile touched Kakashi’s lips as he watched her turn the corner, then looked to Toshio who barked excitedly. “We better get going” Kakashi said to the dog. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

               Rei tried her best to relax but her mind raced with wonderings about what, exactly, Kakashi might be doing. The vagueness of it all left her stomach turning. She sunk even deeper into the hot water in defeat, blowing bubbles out of her nose and mouth. Before she could drown in her own uncertainty, however, the locker room door slid open and out stepped Mikazuki and Yugao.

               “What the hell are you guys doing here?” Rei asked, sitting up.

               Yugao slipped into the water and shrugged. “Kakashi told us what he was up to so we decided to come and keep you company” she explained.

               Kakashi told us what he was up to. But what was he up to? Rei’s cocked brow, her pursed lips and focused gaze, communicated her confusion clear as day.  

               “He didn’t tell you?” Mikazuki asked softly, settling in beside Yugao.

               “No?” Rei replied. She stared hard at the two of them, asked, “Does someone care to tell me what the hell is going on?”

               Back home, Kakashi stared with focused intent at the packaging for the new dog brush he had just purchased. It came highly recommended per the Inuzukas, who he always trusted in canine matters. The operation seemed simple enough: take long strokes through the coat, and the fine-toothed razor blade would take care of everything else. Toshio sat patiently before him, panting expectantly. Pursing his lips, Kakashi spun the brush around his finger before looking the dog in the eyes. “Here we go” he muttered, then scooted around so as to begin combing through his thick, downy fur.

               With one swipe, the teeth were filled with immeasurable amounts of fluff. Kakashi picked it off and shoved it into a paper bag at his side, then continued onward. He was only halfway through Toshio’s coat when his bag had completely filled and he was forced to grab another but as he rose to his feet, Toshio shook his bulky body and a cloud of hair puffed out around him. He followed Kakashi into the kitchen, knocking over the bag in the process. All of the fluff wafted across the floor. It stuck to the edge of the couch, collected in corners, tumbled across the living room rug. Toshio looked up at Kakashi with a grin, barking emphatically. Kakashi, however, felt himself die a little inside. He surveyed the damage with wide eyes before shoving the second bag back into the drawer. It was a lost cause. The only weapon fit for this battle now was a vacuum. So much for keeping things clean.

               By sunset, Kakashi had effectively de-fluffed Toshio to the best of his ability. Equipped with a stange little rubber toothbrush, he attempted to rid Toshio of his ghastly breath, as well, but it was no use. Whereas he seemed to take delight in lounging while Kakashi combed his fur, he become harshly defensive over his teeth, snapping and snarling—a threat. “Well” Kakashi sighed, popping the rubber sleeve off his finger and tossing it across the room, “I did the best I could.” He outfitted Toshio in a brand new bandana before they went on their way. After all, Rei was bound to begin worrying.

               Yugao and Mikazuki were of no help in alleviating Rei’s anxiety. Their explanations as to what Kakashi was up to were vague and unhelpful, if they even tried to explain at all. More often than not, they simply redirected the conversation to something else such as Mikazuki’s growing relationship with Tenzo or about the woman who runs the high-end kimono shop down the street. Nothing of any real substance. Rei leaned her head back against the edge of the springs and heaved a sigh.

               The three of them parted ways as the service staff began closing up shop, but nothing about this made Rei feel any better than she had that morning. If anything, she arguably felt worse. She had work in three hours and felt very much like she had wasted an entire day doing nothing. True, her muscles were less tense and the color had returned to her skin but none of that was a priority. Her panic rose in her throat as she redressed and began her departure, reaching a fever pitch when she was met with none other than Kakashi outside.

               He stood smiling at her, bright and welcoming and warm. A small bouquet of her favorite flowers were held at his chest. Toshio barked a happy hello beside him, the bandana around his neck sporting the signature henohenomoheji of all the Hatake ninken. His coat appeared smooth and thinned out and Rei immediately knew her fiancé had taken the brunt of her stress.

               “Did you have a relaxing soak?” he asked as she approached, drawing her nearer. The grin on his face only enforced to her that he knew exactly what he was doing all along.

               “I can’t believe you did this” Rei laughed incredulously. She took the flowers, admiring the petals as Toshio nudged her thigh for attention. When she reached down to scratch behind his ear, he leapt and spun in excited approval before racing ahead of them toward home.

               Kakashi shrugged as he followed suit. “It was really nothing” he replied. “After all, we’re supposed to be a team, aren’t we? If there’s an imbalance, then one of us should take on the burden and even things out.”

               He’s unbelievable, Rei thought to herself. Truly, she could not fathom how she had gotten so lucky. Her engagement ring glinted in the dusk sunlight, both a warm testament to their love and a bitter reminder that there were still matters unresolved. “You know, Kakashi…this is nice and all but…we’re not out of the woods yet.”

               Kakashi eyed with her a knowing smile, a warning that something was coming. “I did some research on the wedding and looked into everything we need to take care of moving forward” he replied. “The first order of business should be applying for a marriage license, which we can do tomorrow.”

               As impressed and relieved as she was, there was still something nagging in the back of her mind. “No, we can’t” Rei rebuked. “I have work in a few hours, by the time the registrar’s office opens I’ll be passed out.” That was, perhaps, the worst part of the night shift: you operated on a completely separate wavelength from everyone else, often meaning that you could never get anything done when you’re actually awake because no one is open.

               Swatting at the air, Kakashi shook his head and replied, “I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

               Cocking a brow, Rei asked suspiciously, “What do you mean?”

               “Well” Kakashi started, “When I met with Shizune today about the wedding planning, I mentioned your night shift and how I was concerned changing over so quickly might be bad for your health. After all, we have to be extra careful with ourselves these days”—here, he winked and Rei immediately understood he meant this with conception in mind. “Well, Shizune brought this up to Lady Tsunade who agreed that perhaps the abrupt switch would be detrimental to the quality of your work and so she decided to keep you on days instead.”

               Again, he was unbelievable. “God, you really do think of everything, don’t you?” Rei asked, laughing and shaking her head.

               Kakashi simply shrugged and wrapped an arm around her affectionately. “We can go to the registrar’s office tomorrow and apply for the marriage certificate” he explained, “And then from that point onward, we can begin figuring out a date and what kind of wedding we want. So long as we just take baby steps, I think we’ll be just fine.” He grinned down at her and Rei felt her heart burst with happiness.

               “I still can’t believe you’d do all of this for me” she murmured, smiling down at the ground. She pressed a hand to her stomach and thought about their future, about the promise of their union and the hope of bearing a child. Everything felt so wonderful, but of course her cynical mind always had to bring some haunting concern to the fore. “Do you think this will ever die?” she asked.

               “What do you mean?” Kakashi replied.

               “All of this” Rei replied with indistinct motioning. “The spark between us. All of this love and support, the going out of each other’s ways like this.”

               Kakashi shook his head, his smile quickly vanishing. “No, I don’t think it will” he replied. “Why?”

               “I-I don’t know” Rei replied. “I just hear all of these horror stories about marriage killing romance, and how you get so lazy and comfortable with each other and then when a baby enters the mix, it all gets even more fucked up. I just don’t want us to lose this while we gain so much more.”

               Kakashi abruptly stopped in the street and reached out to caress Rei’s cheek, drawing her gaze upward to meet his eyes. “We won’t, I promise” he said. “Rei, no matter what happens to us, I will do my best every day to make you feel loved and supported because I will never stop wanting to care for you.” As sappy as she felt about it, Rei’s eyes began to water with impending tears but she quickly sniffled them back in an attempt to maintain composure. She could not cry. Not here, not now. She felt the pit of her chest wrench at the sight of him, though, and the absolute unconditional love brimming from his eyes. She truly could not have asked for anyone better. His smile began sneaking back onto his masked face then as he pressed a hand to her stomach and added, “And anyone else who might come along, too.”

[ultsoobins]

and so we march on - CBG

requested:

if you're taking requests, can you do something with beomgyu? maybe he just realizes how much he loves the reader please? thank u ilysm !!

notes:

zombie apocalypse au! some angst, mostly fluff and friendship and love. there’s swearing. got kinda carried away writing it, it’s way longer than i originally meant! i hope y’all like it, i had fun writing it.

summary:

five boys, you, and a bus. also there’s dead people.

“shit,” beomgyu hisses from up above, and your hands still at his tone. you stop tinkering with the radio in your hands just long enough to look up. he rapidly retreats back into the broken-down school bus you’ve all been living in for the past few weeks, closing the emergency exit hatch fluidly as he does.

“what is it?” you ask in a voice barely above a whisper, trying your best to keep the tremor in your voice masked. taehyun echoes you, his words sounding even lower.

“there’s a couple stragglers out by the big tree. they’re a ways off, but there’s no telling if and when they’ll realize there’s breathers here.” beomgyu settles into the bus seat in front of you, wincing as he does so. he stretches his arms out, letting out a grateful groan at the small relief his muscles feel. it’s understandable - his four hour watch shift had extended itself into five, six hours as he’d decided to take over for you to let you keep fiddling with the radio.

“should we shoot ‘em?” yeonjun pipes up from the front, his card game with kai momentarily forgotten. while the elder is distracted, kai switches out some of his cards with the main deck. you disguise your giggle at this as a cough.

“we barely have any bullets left, and we currently only have one of our two guns with properly working silencers.” taehyun responds, wringing his hands. his voice may be stable, void of nervousness, but his actions never are - a byproduct, you suppose, of living during an apocalypse.

the space where your unofficial leader would typically interject is empty, and you realize that you’re all thinking the same thing.

“soobin will get back fine, right?” you question, tugging at the bracelet around your wrist anxiously. “he’s got a good eye, he’s a good shot, and he’s smart as hell.”

“plus, he’s coming in from a different direction than where the zombies are.” kai responds, moments before yeonjun flicks him in the forehead.

“i have peripheral vision, idiot. give me your cards, i’m reshuffling. also, zombie is such a vulgar term. try undead, or something.”

beomgyu mutters an agreement before letting his face get even more serious. you reach over the bus seat, holding your hand out for him to grab. once he does, you squeeze it in an attempt at comforting him.

“he’s also 6’2” and built like a kangaroo. if the zombies -” yeonjun shoots him a look. “the undead are going to spot anyone, it’ll be him.”

“don’t speak it into existence,” you sigh. “he’ll get the gas, and we’ll get the fuck out of here. you just see.”

this time, he squeezes your palm.

“in the meantime,” taehyun diverges. “how’s the radio coming?”

“i’m sure you all heard the static - which means it’s now picking up some signals, at least, but i also fixed the power source. rewired the whole thing to use solar energy.”

“guess those panel bits i found last week worked wonders, huh?” beomgyu grins, and you smile back. you draw your hand back from his, trying your best not to reel from the loss of his warmth. you look around the bus - your current home, you suppose - for a brief moment, taking in the lack of true light in it.

you all have flashlights, sure, and the occasional ray of sunshine will seep through the boards that the six of you fixed over the windows and the black paint you’d swiped over the door. the majority of your light intake comes from whenever the hatch is open and some one’s on watch, and that’s sporadic as it is.

it’s the days that light seeps in, by some miracle, under an entire row of windows that you’ve already come to love.

funny how the sun shines through the end of the world.

you blink, drawing yourself out of your thoughts.

“with a solar panel radio, though, i’m suddenly not a fan of the fact that we have everything boarded up and blacked out.” you point out, and yeonjun groans slightly at the truth in your words. “i think i only need to tweak it a bare amount more for it to catch any signals that are findable, but it isn’t going to work without semi-steady light source.”

“we can probably do something about it, i mean - “ beomgyu is interrupted by a graceless banging against the back door. kai, the only one with his feet in the aisle, gets up, ready to rush towards it.

taehyun quickly juts an arm out, effectively stopping the younger boy.

“we don’t know who it is,” he whispers harshly, and kai steps back. before any of you can open your mouth and ask your safety question, the banging resumes.

“open up!” soobin’s voice calls. none of you move. “fuck, fine,” he pauses. “bang opened his music academy in 2013, that’s where we all met!”

you rush over immediately, swinging the door open. soobin stumbles in, one arm wrapped around a canister of gasoline. the hand attached to the same arm is toting two others. he pulls the door shut with his free hand, making sure that it holds. as he does so, you pull the gun from his makeshift holster, setting it gently with the rest of the weapons stockpile you all have.

“didn’t even wait for me to ask,” the words fall out of your mouth to try and lighten the situation, and soobin lets out a dry chuckle. he shakes his head, taking a moment to gather his thought and his breaths. he’s very evidently been running from something. you move back, settling into the seat beomgyu happens to be in.

before you can apologize and sit back in your own space, he wraps his arms around you. seems like you could both use some comfort right now.

“two undead were out there - one was by the tree and the other was way far out by the tire. the second one was on my ass the moment i came in sight, so i had to put a bullet in its head. i don’t know if the other saw me or not - i booked it.” soobin’s story comes out in pants and is short and sweet and to the point. still, you find yourself tensing. beomgyu’s arms wrap tighter around your body.

“you got the gas though,” taehyun responds, trying to find optimism in the situation. “that’s something.”

kai nods, gesturing vaguely to the canisters before speaking, his words directed towards soobin. “i jump started the battery and all of the systems the moment you left - there’s a bare minimum of gas in the tank now, but it isn’t enough to even get out of this lot. once we pour it in, we should be home free.”

you knock on a wooden window board at his words, just in case.

“who’s going to do it, then?” yeonjun asks, nervousness laced in his words like a poison. it’s obvious that nobody wants to be the one, but it’s obvious that nobody wants any of the others to do it either.

you sigh.

“i will.”

“no-” beomgyu is quick to speak, but you’re quick to quiet him, too.

“i’ll be fine, beom,” you say, shooting him a smile you hope is bright enough to mask your growing fear. after all, the second zombie is still out there.

waiting.

“listen -” he tries again, but you disentangle yourself from his arms in favor of starting the walk out the back door. on your way out, you pick up one of the fuller canisters.

“i’ll be out and in in no time,” you say, and with that you’re out the door and into the day.

or, as it turns out to be, the night. when had the sun set? you aren’t sure. still, you make your way quickly to the fuel tank’s opening, ignoring the weight of the canister and the grimness of the night that envelopes you. it’s once you open the valve and put the mouth of the gas can to the mouth of the tank that you realize you’ve forgotten a weapon.

“shit,” you whisper under your breath.

it’s just as the can empties and you drop it that, suddenly, you feel the hairs on your neck stand up. you whirl around, and upon your eyes meeting another pair you can’t stop the scream that rips out of your throat.

it’s within five meters of you, and, no matter how slow the undead can be, you know that you almost have no time.

that, and your fear is paralyzing you.

its flesh is rotting, and the foul smell overtakes your senses before anything else. as it drags towards you in slow motion, chunks of skin and hair fall off of it, tainting the ground underneath it. one of its eyes has been gauged out, and it barely has any fingers left.

another scream escapes you as your fingers twitch in the air, searching for the weapon that isn’t at your hip. your panic has your senses so dampened that you don’t notice the sound of the emergency escape hatch clicking open, nor do you hear the back door clanging.

even the call of your name, distinctly from beomgyu, is lost on your deaf ears. the zombie drags closer. you close your eyes on instinct, the grotesque creature becoming too much for your senses.

suddenly, a shot rings out, just as a hand tightens around your arm. you jump, screaming once more as you open your eyes to see yeonjun’s fingers pressing into your bicep, and the undead being dead on the ground in front of you.

you glance up.

there, a revolver in his hands and relief in his eyes, leaning out over the emergency exit hatch, stands beomgyu. he lowers the gun only once you make eye contact with him, and doesn’t hesitate at all to hand the gun off to whoever is underneath him, climb out onto the roof, and slide down to meet you on the ground.

the moment he lands, yeonjun lets go of you, stepping back to watch you embrace your savior. as beomgyu wraps his arms around you, feels your tears stain the collar of his worn, torn-up old shirt, he realizes something.

he loves you, and he can’t live without you.

“don’t ever,” he starts, voice breaking at the thought of what could have happened. “don’t ever pull shit like that again, you hear me?” he presses his lips to the crown of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. you clutch at the back of his shirt like a lifeline, your sobs dying down after eons, soaking instead into beomgyu’s clothes.

you eventually step back, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands.

“thank you,” you whisper, and beomgyu shakes his head, letting his hands rest on your hips still. his grip tightens suddenly, and he pulls you back into his arms.

“i love you,” he mumbles, lips right above your ears.

“i love you.” you whisper into his neck.

before either of you can lean in, your lips mere centimeters from his, a voice interrupts.

“can you guys finish this on the bus? soobin’s driving, so we’re dying today anyways. just a little later rather than sooner.”

soobin’s voice follows as you start giggling.

“kai, i swear -”

“what? I’m just telling the - put that board down!”

beomgyu smooths down your hair before moving away from  you, opting to lace his fingers with yours instead as he pulls you back onto the bus. you lean into him unconsciously once you both settle into a seat.

“we lived another day,” you say, quietly enough so only he can hear. he grins.

“and we’ll live another tomorrow.”

bonus:

you turn the dial one last time, ignoring the bumps as taehyun drives. it’s been three days on the road, and you’re getting tired of all the false signals and dead ends you’ve been hitting.

before you can dismiss this try as well, however, a distinct noise echoes through the bus.

everyone stops.

“for anyone listening, we repeat, an army base is just outside of south bend off of the interstate near the old local clothing store. we have food, water, clothing, shelter healthcare, and protection. today is april 21st, 2019. for anyone listening, we repeat, an army base is -”

yeonjun is the first to let out a yell of pure happiness, and the rest of you follow soon after. you’re safe. you’ll be safe. all will be well.

in the heat of the moment your best friend - your boyfriend - pulls you close, kissing you with all of the emotion in his body. before you can pull away, he whispers against your lips.

“we’ll live for forever,” he says. you smile, eyes shining with happiness.

“and forever continues tomorrow.”

[svt-writers-club]

Ask games 5. #45, #46, Jihan, villains au 😇

i don’t actually understand why you guys like villain au jihan so much because they’re just about the dumbest, angstiest jihan i’ve ever written ever. you guys just like pain.

TRIGGER WARNINGS IMMINENT! if you’re triggered by/are not comfortable with blood, violence, gore and overall violent descriptions and imagery, then STOP HERE and move on to something else, thank you! (Feel free to message me if you think there are other trigger warnings I should add to this post)

#45: “Are you still a coward?”#46: “You did run!”

The bell hanging above the door chimes cheerfully. Jeonghan shoots it a glance, trying his best not to drip blood onto the wooden floor.

“Hello,” a cheerful voice calls out as a small body peeks out of the kitchen. “Welcome to Lee’s – oh, you have got to be shitting me!”

Jeonghan grins at Chan, raising a hand in greeting. Blood drips from his hands and arms, where the thorny vines are still wrapped. The warlock shoots him an annoyed look.

“Hey, Channie,” Jeonghan says, shaking off some blood just to irritate him further. They drip quietly onto the previously clean floor.

“What are you doing here?”

Jeonghan points at himself idly. His button-down and jeans are soaked in red, his silk vest (gifted by Jihoon) barely missing the bloodbath that is the rest of his clothes.

“I’m meeting Jihoon here,” Jeonghan answers absently, rubbing the copper-scented liquid into his fingertips. “He’ll be by in half an hour?”

Chan scoffs. With a wave of his hand, a chair slides towards Jeonghan, knocking into his knees and forcing him to sit. The warlock leans in close, eyes scrutinising him.

He pokes Jeonghan’s shoulder – hard. The plant manipulator hisses, vines slithering off his arms protectively.

“And how much of that,” Chan asks, poking Jeonghan’s shoulder once more, “is yours?”

Jeonghan glares at him mulishly. A vine slithers off his arm and circles around Chan’s wrist, the thorns pricking skin and making blood well up. Dino, the glamoured wolf, gets off her haunches and growls, snapping at the snake-like vine.

“Aw, ouch,” Chan says. He doesn’t sound like he’s in pain, turning his wrist to watch the vine writhe around his wrist. The pain isn’t nearly enough to alarm him, although his familiar is making a big fuss about it. “Dino, down.”

With a single breath, the vine shrivels and dies in a burst of flame. Chan passes a hand over the small puncture wounds, immediately healing them. Dino sniffs the ashes, then trots away to lick at the blood coating Jeonghan.

Jeonghan groans, then lets the wolf/dog do whatever she wants. Dog spit is better than drying blood, after all.

Chan cups Jeonghan’s cheek, tilting his head up so he can look at the bruise on Jeonghan’s cheek. He brushes a gentle finger against the discoloured skin. “Did you come here to heal?”

Jeonghan smirks, biting back a yelp when the simple action causes the broken skin of his lip to stretch uncomfortably. “Only if you’re offering,” he leers.

It’s not that bad, all things considered. He has a through-and-through bullet hole through his shoulder, from a rookie cop that came early and got lucky. She’s not so lucky now, though; the moment the bullet left her gun, vines strung themselves around her neck and choked the life out of her.

Dino cleans up all she can, then rests her heavy head in Jeonghan’s lap. The wolf likes Jeonghan, for some reason, although he has to wonder if it’s because she thinks he’s delicious. He scratches her ears absently, blood smearing the grey fur of her ears, but she growls happily. That’s a wolf who doesn’t much care for bloodshed – a perfect companion for Chan.

Chan disappears back into the kitchen. There’s clanging and banging as he does… something. Jeonghan’s not sure what it is he’s doing, but he hopes that somewhere in there, there’s alcohol.

Chan reappears with a steaming cup and a plate of sweet, chewy ddeok. He orders Jeonghan to eat, waving a hand over Jeonghan’s clothes so the blood seeps out of the fabric and into the air. It coalesces into a ball that Chan analyses with uncomfortable intensity.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” Jeonghan asks, words slurring together. The blood loss is finally catching up with him.

Chan shrugs, banishing the blood into a stoppered bottle. “Sometimes I need blood,” he says cryptically. He shoots Jeonghan an impatient look. “Drink your tea.”

“I’ll do what I fucking want, thank you very much.”

Chan pins him with an unamused gaze.

Jeonghan drinks the tea.

It’s just on the edge of hot, warming him from the inside. His shoulder tingles, then goes numb. He curses, his magic pulsing erratically at the sudden loss of sensation. His precious vines curl around his arm, slithering like snakes. Chan has never poisoned him before, but he should’ve known better than to let his guard down.

“I’ll kill you,” Jeonghan grits out. The warlock ignores him, pressing a hand to the open wound – a wound Jeonghan can no longer feel. There’s no pain, although there’s a pressure along his upper body that’s a testament to just how hard Chan is pressing down.

“Shush, I’m working,” the younger says, hand sparking with magics as he weaves a spell into Jeonghan’s shoulder. Jeonghan can’t feel the muscle knitting back together, but he can see it and it’s a disgusting and mesmerising sight.

At the end of the impromptu… healing, his shoulder is still numb, but there’s no more bullet wound.

Jeonghan grimaces. “I’m scared to find out what that cost me.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Chan says cheerfully. “In the meantime, I have another guest!”

The front doors burst open, the bell jingling merrily. The metallic scent of fresh blood follows acrid smell of burnt wood. Before Jeonghan can react, Jisoo is stumbling in with a semi-conscious Seungcheol hanging off his shoulder.

The plant manipulator scowls at the sight of his ex-lover. He glances impatiently at the clock; Jihoon is gong to take at least another twenty minutes, at this rate. He had known Jisoo and his merry gang of misfits were planning something today, but he hadn’t expected to run into him.

Jisoo stops short, calculative eyes falling on Jeonghan’s battered form. Jeonghan stares back impassively, chin jutted up defiantly.

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo says simply. Jeonghan hates the way Jisoo’s tongue curls around his name. “Are you still running around with Woozi?”

“Jisoo,” Jeonghan spits out, bristling at Jisoo’s familiar tone. “Are you still a coward?”

Chan watches the two exes interact, glee lighting up his deceptively innocent face. His gaze bounces between the two – at the faux calm of Jisoo and the sharp anger of Jeonghan. He licks his lips excitedly; the warlock has always been a sucker for drama, especially the animosity that lies between Jisoo and Jeonghan.

The door jingles once more. Chan perks up, meeting the newcomer at the door.

“Wonwoo hyung,” Chan purrs, leaning into the madman’s personal space. “My, what a strange crowd you’re walking with, hm?”

Wonwoo sweeps a disinterested gaze over the young warlock. He’s dressed in a crisp suit, hair gelled back. His expensive dress shoes squeak against the wooden floor of Chan’s humble tea shop. His cane taps against the ground, the jewelled head glinting in the low sunlight.

Chan gazes at Wonwoo like he’s starving and the only thing he wants to eat is Wonwoo.

It’s a shame Wonwoo couldn’t care less.

“You fucked up my bank heist,” Wonwoo says, voice carrying throughout the whole room. He raises an eyebrow, clearly addressing Jisoo and Seungcheol. “I should throw your little campfire into the ocean with a pair of cement shoes.”

“My apologies,” Jisoo answers coolly. He deposits the fire manipulator into a chair. “It seems our wires were crossed.”

Wonwoo glowers. He’s arguably the least powered person in the tea shop, but he’s also the only one with an absolute lack of morals. What he lacked in power, he made up for with sheer insanity. (Chan is in love with Wonwoo’s madness.)

“Next time,” Wonwoo says slowly, “I’ll make sure he eats a wad of C4 so I can paint my walls with his guts.” He lets the threat linger, then leaves without preamble. The tap-tap of his cane and shoes echo in the silent tea house.

“Huh,” Jeonghan says. He glances at Jisoo out of the corner of his eye. “So. You were running from him, weren’t you?”

Jisoo shoots Jeonghan a baleful look. “I was not.”

“You were,” Chan injects gleefully. “You did run!”

Jisoo answers with a frown and a curt, “I would like some medicine for Seungcheol, please.”

“I will poison him,” Chan says cheerfully, sweeping away into his kitchen of magic spells.

Jeonghan doesn’t want to be here. He rubs at his vines absently, turning to watch the entranceway. He just needs Jihoon to come sweeping in so they can go home and maybe, Jihoon will fuck Jeonghan hard enough that he’ll forget the way Jisoo tastes on his tongue.

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo says.

Jeonghan never finds out what that traitor could say to him, because Jihoon comes running in just then. The mercenary smells of gunpowder and hot metal.

“Come on, hyung, we have to go,” Jihoon pants. He barely spares Jisoo and Seungcheol a glance, too worried over whatever is chasing him.

Jeonghan does spare Jisoo a look. He holds Jisoo’s gaze as he leans down and kisses Jihoon, taking his time to savour Jihoon’s mouth. The younger sighs, rolling his eyes even as he opens up just for Jeonghan. They kiss and Jisoo’s gaze burns, but he does absolutely nothing as he allows Jeonghan to slip through his fingers again.

Feel free to ask me more of these ship asks here!

[the-writerly-night-owl]

Continuing a Legacy

Book: Desire and Decorum

Pairing: Ernest Sinclaire x MC (Clara Mills

Summary: Ernest shows her his mother’s office and she learns more about her mother in law and husband.

Authors Note: this story does get pretty heated lol (no smut). Also this is a slight preview for something else I’m working on. I think I got enough different backgrounds for characters. Enjoy!

Tag List!:  @flyawayboo  @queen-among-writers    @cosigottahavefaith   @am-i-invisible777  @countrymusicandncis-blog  @fluffy-cat-whisper @melodyofgraves

Ernest Sinclaire nodded at the driver for getting his mail for him as he was thankful the package arrived today. Perfect timing, he thought, as he went to find Clara. It was hard to believe that they were married for a week now already. They had come a long way from arranging the seats to keep her far away from any eligible male at his first party. Now they were married and maybe even a child on the way…

He grew pink at thinking that before shaking his head. Children would come soon enough as they should enjoy the time they had together.

“Ernest,” said Clara she saw him in the foyer as she kissed his cheek. “I was looking for you, Nancy told me that you wanted to see me.”

“Well Nancy is right,” he said with a small grin. Miss Nancy Wright was his governess so long ago and she helped his steward with household affairs. “I have something to show you and a present.”

He could only watch as Clara’s eyes lite up as she saw the package in his hand. She clapped her hands as batted her eyelashes up at him as if she could give it to him now. Instead he gently looped his arm through her elbow as he steered her toward the steps.

She pouted before heading up the steps of Ledford Park. Clara couldn’t help but get a little gitty, it was so nice here, and sometimes she preferred Ledford to Edgewater.

Finally, they stopped in front of a nondescript door that was at the far end of the hall. Curious, she watched as Ernest pulled out a key from his breast pocket. Then he proceeded to open the door. Together the two walked into the room.

Clara couldn’t help but feel a little confused as this was just an office. It had floral wallpaper, a window overlooking the front yard, a large bookshelf, and an impressive wooden desk.

“This was my mother’s boudoir,” said Ernest his voice just above a hush. “I remember her doing all her business in here and playing on the floor while she worked. Sometimes she’d entertain her friends or family. I figured it’d be your turn to use the room yourself.”

“Ernest this is really sweet, thank you,” she said as she pulled him in for a hug as she gently kissed his lips. “What does your mother’s boudoir have to do with your present though?”

Wordlessly with a grin still on his face he handed her the present. He hoped that she would be willing to be apart of Ledford’s legacy with the gift. Eagerly Clara ripped off the packaging as the brown paper fell to the ground.

Her hand ran across a beautiful bound book as she smiled as her finger traced across her name embossed on the cover: Clara Sinclaire. She opened to the first page to find that the pages were blank.

“My mother, my grandmother, even my great great grandmother kept diaries. They were passed on sharing wisdom from mistress to mistress. Sometimes it was advice and other times it was their thoughts. I was never allowed to read them but I figured that it was your turn to do the same.”

At this Clara was touched as she put the book down on the desk. That was such a brilliant idea as she hugged him once more. It was an honor to be apart of that and help build up the legacy. Perhaps in another one hundred, two hundred years, people will be reading her words. Her story.

“That is a brilliant idea, I love it Ernest and I’d be happy to be apart of that,” she said as she kissed him once again before whispering, “I fall more in love with you each day.”

Ernest pressed his lips to hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck as she sat on the edge of the desk.

“Clara,” he said moaning into her skin as she he arched her back into him. “I love you.”

His knuckles grazed her cheek as pure adoration filled his eyes. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as he felt his blood pressure rise as he released in her as Clara was panting next to him. He wrapped his arms around her as he felt his nerves on fire. His fingers traced along her jaw line and then down to collarbone as she moaned once more.

“Ernest,” she said her gaze flirted along the wall. “Before we go any farther, I’d love it if I could read one of these books. Maybe you could see your mother’s handwriting again.”

“Clara are you sure?” he asked as she went over to read the spines. He really wasn’t allowed to read them for fear of what might be said.

Lydia, Lydia, Lydia, she thought as her eyes gazed over the shelf for his mother. She didn’t realize that her name was on the spine of her book too. It was the third shelf did she pull off the old tome and back to the desk.

She took in a breath as she showed the first page to Ernest as she read aloud the words on the page.

Hello future readers, it’s great to see that you took an interest in my words and thoughts. As you may know I am here to share my advice and my story as mistress of Ledford Park a tradition started from my husband’s grandmother. My name is Lydia Sinclaire (nee Andrews) and I am the daughter of Henry Andrews and Charlotte Bennet. My father is a solider and he went to fight the American’s years ago, leaving me and mama with the shop.  I believe he is dead but his spirit still lives within me. My mother and I make money by sewing for the militia and local men in the meantime. My husband Thomas Sinclaire and I met on his tour of the local properties he owned.

Clara flipped to another page as she was curious to know if she said anything about Ernest in this book.

Raising children is not easy, lovely reader I must tell you to please not cut your sons hair too short. Ernest was banging on the floor throwing a tantrum that he hated his hair cut so short. His outburst did surprise me but I couldn’t help but laugh. His hair is incredibly short however, I don’t think we’ll be using that barber again.

“I still don’t like getting my hair cut after that,” said Ernest quietly.

Clara giggled as she did a mock gasp. “I did not know that. See there’s still stuff I’m learning about you.” She bumped up against him as she had a smile on her face.

“I didn’t know any of that,” said Ernest as his fingers lingered on the dry ink. “I never really asked her about her past before.  I know her father was a wealthy merchant that owned a shop. I guess they stopped running it when they married. It’s good to see her writing again, it’s like I hear her in my head. Thank you for letting me read the first page and for the memory even if it wasn’t a good one.”

“It’s not a problem sweetheart,” she said kissing him softly. Her hands lingered on his jacket as she grinned at him. “Should we go and finish what we started?”

Ernest kissed her as he picked her up bridal style before heading toward their room. As per usual Clara enjoyed herself way more then she should. Her grandmother and Henrietta would blush at the things that they did and how often.

After a wild romp herself and dinner did Clara find herself back in the boudoir. She glanced around the room as she sought out the books first. There were over a dozen from the first writer as it eventually petered down to three or four books. They probably had so much words of wisdom that they could teach her. Not just about Ledford but things she could apply to Edgewater.

Then she glanced out the window at the starry sky as she smiled. This was technically a nice study area as she sat down at the desk. She lite another candle as Clara got together her writing supplies as she remembered what Lydia had written. Finally composing the first entry in the journal Ernest had given her.

Good afternoon, morning, night, or whenever you may be reading this. Thank you for taking time to read my writing and what advice that I must give to you. The next mistress of Ledford will be my son’s wife, I trust that you will take care of him and love him just as much as I do. I am not with child yet, but I hope to be soon. I always wanted a big family and I think Ernest would love a few sons.

Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Clara Sinclaire (nee Mills) and I am fifteen years old – I only jest – I am really twenty. I will take the first few pages of my journal to introduce myself and then clear up all the misunderstanding that has surrounded me for nearly a year now. I hope the next mistress reading this will understand the truth and what I have gone through. To start I will let you know that my father was the Earl of Edgewater, Vincent. My mother an opera singer, Mary Mills...

And she continued to write until she had told her story with finding love with Ernest, her friends, even the Duke with everything that happened. Clara grinned down at her words before putting it next to the final book Lydia had written. Her story didn’t fill up every page as she couldn’t wait to fill the rest of those pages with Ernest and their children. She might even need another book. 

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Chapter 21: cameos, indulgent nods to crack ships, and oh wait this is kind of an anticlimactic place to end the first fic what do you mean that’s an ending.

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

“So she’s like a centaur but the human part is a catfish.”

“If the only human part of a centaur was its head, yep.”

Trucy’s insistence on not divulging anything about Gourdy ahead of time was apparently just for the sake of surprise, because she tells Vera about it later that day despite her not coming to the lake. Larry wanders to the office with them, as well, and promised a drawn explanation that isn’t coming quick enough for Vera to not be completely confused by Trucy.

“Do you think reverse-centaurs are a thing?” Trucy asks.

“Minotaur,” Apollo says.

“If a reverse-centaur and a mermaid had a kid, it would be a seahorse,” Trucy says.

Phoenix groans and puts his head in his hands. Trucy smirks triumphantly, and Larry looks up so fast that Apollo wouldn’t be surprised to have heard his neck snap. “Can I use that idea for a book?” he asks.

“Oh, god,” Phoenix says.

Trucy’s bursts of – inspiration? Questionable genius? – are the sort of thing that Apollo uses to contextlessly start conversations with Klavier. It takes most of the pressure off him to be clever or have any excuse for talking, and right now, he did promise Trucy to extend her New Years invitation. But first, the lead-in, centaurs.

-The Fraülein’s mind is a compelling but uncharted territory

And Klavier barely knows the half of it, either.

Every time she says things like this I have this fear that it’s all actually real

-Then I hate to be the one to tell you -but seahorses are very real ;) 

Ah. There it is, that strange desire that Klavier instills in him, where Apollo wants to take one of the heavy law books from a shelf in this office and smack him upside the head with it.

I am going to pretend you said nothing and just tell you that Trucy is throwing a new year party at our office and wanted to invite you

Trucy has brought her laptop out to the couches to pull up reference images of catfish for Larry. What is a party in this ridiculous place even going to look like? Will Mia throw them out at some point, like a host who finally wants to reclaim her house?

-Certainly thank her for that for me, but I already have plans

Or is lying, which Apollo can’t see because they aren’t having this conversation in person, and instead just wants to avoid the possibility of crossing paths with Phoenix. Or he’s still wary about the office itself. There are far too many options.

Alright, but if she finds out those plans are hanging out alone and sad at your apartment she’s gonna be mad And she does not let people escape her wrath

-I don’t think you quite understand the rockstar lifestyle :P -But I am duly warned 

I don’t think you live it

-Hm.

-

“Do you think he would’ve come to the Gourdyversary if I’d invited him?” Trucy asks.

“I really, really don’t,” Apollo says.

She puts a hand on her chin and frowns in concentration in a similar manner to her father. “Yeah,” she agrees. “He’d probably be even more convinced than you were that Daddy conducts human sacrifices.”

-

On New Years’ Eve, Apollo takes a late lunch and wanders back to the office to find that in the meantime, Trucy has arrived from school with a friend. She introduces the other girl, who is furiously scribbling some complicated symbols on a pack of sticky notes, as Jinxie, and Jinxie introduces herself by smacking Apollo in the forehead with the sticky note she has just finished drawing on.

“Red, horns,” she mumbles, retreating back behind the couch with her pen at the ready again. “Fae.”

“No no, he’s human!” Trucy says. “He’s just a lawyer.”

“Fae lawyer,” Jinxie says. “There are lots of those.”

“I’m human,” Apollo says. “Really. Trust me.”

She squints suspiciously at him. Her eyes don’t change color – is she fae, unknowing or self-hating or hell, it’s probably sensible for the fae to be afraid of other fae. Or is she just twitchy and paranoid, worse than Clay, more like Starbuck. Still not appearing exactly happy about the situation, she at least seems calmed enough to emerge back from around the couch. In the back room, the phone rings – Apollo cannot recall the last time someone called that phone – and Trucy races back to it, Jinxie trailing behind her. Apollo has to follow them to return to his desk, where he’s trying to finish writing up notes for the Gourdyversary. He keeps a journal for more than just cases, now, tries on paper to make sense of magic (doesn’t really manage), and it’s taken several days to truly set in that he didn’t dream up the catfish-horse.

“Wright Anything Agency, Trucy speaking!” She flings herself into the desk chair, rolling it halfway out from behind the desk, as far as the phone cord reaches, and a grin spreads across her face. “What, no, it’s not the new year yet! It’s not midnight! No, I in fact don’t know what a time zone is!”

Apollo tries and fails not to roll his eyes. She spots him and scrunches up her nose until whatever is being said on the other end of the line draws her attention away. “Ooh, Paris! I wanna get there someday, you’ll have to tell me what to do – oh! I’m gonna put you on speaker and you can say hi to Apollo and Jinxie!” Her bangs flutter when she blows out an amused breath. “No, not everyone who hangs out here all the time works here. You’ll still have desk space! I think.” She drops the phone, letting it dangle to the floor, and hits a button on the base of it.

“Who’s this, exactly?” Apollo asks.

“Athena,” Trucy says. “She’s studying to be a defense lawyer and then she’s gonna come work here too!”

“Hi,” Jinxie says.

“I’m taking the Bar in February!” The voice on the other end of the phone is as chipper as Trucy, with no real trace of an accent despite the fact that she is evidently not in the country. “Mon Dieu, I’m taking the Bar in February! I have to study!”

“Yeah, I remember that period of sheer panic,” Apollo says. “It was worth it in the end, of course, but it wasn’t fun.”

Athena’s heavy exhale is slightly garbled through the phone. “That helps, thanks,” she says. “So you’re Apollo?” And then without waiting for his response, she barrels onward. “I guess we’ll be working together someday! Soon. Soon? Hopefully? Hopefully! Power of positive thinking!”

“Hopefully,” Apollo agrees, and he doesn’t think about it much, or tries not to, but something he misses about Kristoph’s office is that it was more people than just him and his boss, that there were other lawyers there, others of similar experience levels to him. If he lets himself feel it, he misses having other defense attorneys to talk to about other cases. He misses having more people around than a ghost, a flighty ex-attorney who’s been disbarred longer than he ever had his badge, and whatever teenage girls wander in with Trucy on any given day.

“February!” Trucy repeats. “You could be here soon! Like by the spring!”

“It takes a long time to get the results, just remember that,” Apollo says.

“Do you think I should keep studying while waiting?” Athena asks. “In case I don’t pass, so I can just go right back in and take it again?”

“That sounds like some sort of personal purgatory,” Apollo says, “but I mean, if you want to…”

“Well, if I keep studying and do pass, then some of it must be good to have a refresher on for when I go into court, right?”

Increasingly, Apollo thinks that over half of what he learned in law school has been entirely useless for the actual predicament of trying a case, and that he probably would have been better off taking a course on local folklore as well. Is it folklore if it’s true? Does Athena know the kind of office she’ll be stepping into? But he doesn’t exactly want to discourage her, not when she actually needs to be hitting the books most, so he says, “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Hm. You don’t sound convinced.” There is silence for a moment, and then she says, “But I’ve been studying this long, so might as well just keep going with it ‘till I know! Trucy, if I pass but haven’t found an apartment, would your dad mind if I crashed on the couch? You’d never know I was there, I swear!”

The amount she’s talking, Apollo doubts it. “I’m sure he would be fine with it,” Trucy says, which Apollo doesn’t doubt quite as much, but he’s not exactly sure about that either. “Or if he’s not you could sleep on the floor in my room and climb out the window every morning!”

“Sweet,” Athena says. “One less thing to worry about! Anyway sorry to cut this short but I wanna call your dad’s cell to tell him I’m officially testing in February and wish him a happy new year, and then I need to either sleep or run around the house a dozen times first to get rid of this nervous energy from talking about it. But Happy New Year, again!”

“It’ll be an awesome year if you’re around!” Trucy says. “But it’s still nine hours to go!”

“Time zones, bitchesssss,” Athena crows, drawing the last sound into a hiss that grows fainter, like she’s pulling away from the phone, before a beep signals the end of the call.

“She’s great,” Trucy says, bouncing in the chair. “You’re gonna love her, Polly.”

“She sounds exuberant,” Apollo says, because he’s not really sure what else to say. How does Phoenix meet people like this? How does he even have this much of a social circle? Is he more pleasant to everyone who isn’t Apollo, or are they more tolerant of it because they weren’t the ones who lost their first job being played for a fool with a bloody playing card?

“Very,” Trucy says. She springs from her seat, her laptop now in hand from one of the drawers.

“Is she a fae lawyer, too?” Jinxie asks.

“Of course not,” Trucy says. “And she’s not even a lawyer yet, either! Not everyone Daddy knows isn’t human!”

“You understand why we ask, though, right?” Apollo asks, as Trucy drags Jinxie back out to the couches, where for the next two hours bits and pieces of conversation about anime and pro wrestling drift back to him.

He doesn’t realize until he wanders out into the front room to stretch his legs that Vera has arrived. The three girls are huddled together on one couch in front of Trucy’s laptop, clearly watching something, which must be the reason that the internet connection on Apollo’s phone has slowed to an undead crawl. Spotting him, Trucy jumps up and ushers him back to the nebulously-existing kitchen to help her carry out several bottles of sparkling grape juice. She sets each on the floor as she unloads them from the fridge and Apollo, without thinking, reaches down and grabs it, backhanded, the way he would to swing it as a weapon, the way they argued about in Phoenix’s murder trial.

It’s awkward to pick them up differently, but he makes sure he does, fumbles with all the bottles in his arms and staggers back out, Trucy grabbing the doors for him. She’s promised that he and Clay won’t be the oldest adults here, however much she scoffs when she calls him an adult (rude), and however much Apollo doesn’t actually care if there isn’t any alcohol. He and Clay started the past three Januarys with hangovers and regrets and it’s probably about time to stop doing that.

The next person to arrive at the office is Ema, with two incredibly large bags of Snackoos, and Kay, who has nothing but an abundance of energy as she flings herself over the back of a couch to introduce herself to Vera and Jinxie. “I’m going to sleep at 10 pm and there’s nothing any of you can do to stop me,” Ema announces, dropping one bag on the coffee table, and apparently planning on keeping and eating the entire other one herself.

“Rough day?” Trucy asks.

“By noon I was wishing that I was working with Gavin, so yeah, that bad.”

“Gavin’s not that bad, though,” Kay says, rolling from the couch to the floor and bouncing up to her feet.

“He’s pretentious and obnoxious.” Ema forcefully tears open the bag of Snackoos. “But he at least doesn’t give a shit when I use fingerprint powder before forensics gets there, whereas Prosecutor Whasisface—” She stops with a chocolate nearly to her mouth, staring down at it in confusion. “Shit, what’s his name? Balding screechy voice prosecutor.”

Kay very slowly shrugs and turns her hands up in confusion. That description is almost ringing a few unpleasant bells in Apollo’s mind – distant ones, like there’s a mountain in between him and said bells. “I was just fucking working with him,” Ema mutters, shaking her head. She pops another chocolate into her mouth. “Whatever. That guy. Bumps the glimmerous fop up a notch in my rankings of favorite prosecutors in this damned nightmare coven office.”

“I was talking to Gavin the other day and he said you’re his favorite detective,” Kay offers.

Ema’s frown deepens. “He should probably be introduced to more detectives,” she says. “God, is that why I’m always working with him? Is he requesting—”

Kay has found a pack of playing cards and asks Trucy to show her how to throw them. Jinxie slaps one of her sticky-note sigils onto Kay’s back, which she must have noticed but apparently doesn’t seem to mind. Satisfied with her work, Jinxie goes to sit down on the piano bench next to Vera, who has cleared it off and is tapping at the keys trying to make a pattern of sounds that isn’t unpleasant.

The next arrival is Clay, who brings champagne and with it nets an apology from Ema about the time that she said she would trip him into the path of a hungry bear. Kay apparently doesn’t think this is a remark worth questioning and instead simply introduces herself in the same enthusiastic way that she met Apollo at the lake. “Hi! I’m Kay Faraday! You must be Apollo’s roommate!”

She shakes Clay’s hand like she’s trying to detach his arm and he raises his eyebrows at Apollo. “Sorry; if I’m supposed to have heard of you, someone dropped the ball—”

“I met her four days ago,” Apollo interrupts. “Like, only four days ago.”

“Irrelevant,” Kay says, waggling her fingers, and then she turns and shrieking, dives toward Trucy who had picked up to examine one of the champagne bottles. It turns, as expected, into a argument, citing the legal drinking ages of a dozen countries before a debate begins over the morality of lies of omission and perhaps more importantly, whether Phoenix can magically detect those as well. By the time Trucy throws Apollo and Clay out to pick up snacks at the Kitaki Bakery, Snackoos apparently not being enough for her, Kay has diverted all attention entirely by picking up a bottle of grape juice and threatening to chug it all.

“I like her,” Clay says.

“Of course you do,” Apollo says.

They’re halfway across People Park when Clay asks abruptly, “She’s human, right? All of them but Vera?”

“I – I have no idea about Kay or Jinxie.”

“Cool, cool,” Clay says. “I can’t wait to find out at the worst time that they’re not. That’s gotta be how it goes, right?”

At the bakery, Apollo turns his back on Clay for two minutes, to stammer out an answer to Little Plum asking how Apollo and the office are doing, and finds out that Clay somehow in that time got Wocky’s number. It would be very funny, after the conversation they just had, to tell Clay that the family are all kitsunes and to see his expression, but Apollo still isn’t quite sure what that means – are they shapeshifters? Cursed like werewolves? Foxes turned into humans? Some other kind of lingering magic? – because Trucy never explained, just laughed at the look on his face. Maybe he’ll ask Trucy for elaboration on that later, and tell Clay another time, some day when he really wants to mess with him.

Kay still has the juice bottle in her hand, is now standing on the coffee table, Ema throwing Snackoos at her and Trucy eating those Snackoos while cheering for Kay to chug. Someone new has arrived, a brown-haired mousy-looking young man trying to discourage Kay from the mad scheme she is in the middle of describing. Playing cards lie scattered across the floor and couch; Apollo can only guess what that was about. Throwing them, most likely. “—and technically, that is to the letter what I said I would do,” Kay says. She finally steps down from the table.

“If not the spirit of it,” the man says. “Though I’m not sure why I had different expectations for you.”

Kay snaps her fingers and lets them linger as a pair of finger guns. “I’ve got no idea either!”

He doesn’t pay much more mind to her, instead turning to Apollo and Clay. “Uh, hi,” he says, extending a hand to Apollo. He wears gloves, thin white ones. “Sebastian Debeste. Prosecutor. If you were wondering. Which maybe you weren’t.”

Apollo can’t actually recall knowing what a prosecutor’s badge looks like, in-person. Klavier certainly doesn’t wear one, and he’s the only prosecutor that Apollo has met closer than across the width of the courtroom. And Edgeworth, once, not that he remembers whether or not he saw him wearing a badge.

“Oh, uh, hi. Apollo Justice.”

“So you two have the coolest names for lawyers, ever,” Clay says. “Just to make sure we’re all aware of that.”

“I—” Kay starts and then stops. “Wait yeah, you’re right. I was gonna say Judge Courtney has the best name but she picked it as a pun knowing she was gonna go be a judge so that’s not quite fair.”

“Justine Courtney,” Sebastian says. “It’s a very legal system name and she’s – well, she’s one of the Fair Folk.”

It’s still better than the surname Fey, at any rate. But a judge, one of them, too? How do they judge – as fair or strict as humans? The determination is made solely on the evidence, like the Jurist System is trying to mitigate, but in that, he hopes, that the fae would assess evidence evenly. He wonders what a jury of the fae would look like. Even more swayed by emotion, their petty pride willing to acquit someone they know is guilty because by their morality, the crime is just? Kristoph is one of their own damned by that system – or is he one of theirs? Do changelings belong to the Court?

He closes his eyes and tries to tune out the chatter of Clay introducing himself and saying yes he’s an astronaut as in really going to space, next year, which next year is tomorrow but it won’t be until December that—

That’s normal. Space is normal. Clay is normal (in a certain context). Clay is the only normal person here and now it’s too late for him. Apollo dragged him into this. All his overabundance of caution that he tried to share with Apollo and he’s ended up here, both of them here, curiosity to kill them and turn them into cautionary stories that the next person like Clay will repeat.

And he opens his eyes and Ema is listening enraptured to what Clay has to say even though she heard it all on their road trip back in October. Trucy grabs her Magic Panties off the back of the couch and produces from within it several cardboard cone party hats. One she reaches out to arraign over apparent thin air, but it remains floating, now wedged onto the wisp. The next hat she hangs off of Apollo’s spiked bangs. Ema shakes her head too much to allow Trucy to put one on her, but Kay takes two. Sebastian seems to be listening both to Clay, and to Jinxie plunking away on one of the piano keys over and over and over, Vera flipping through the sticky notes. It’s normal. They’re all still people, somehow, people who don’t give Apollo time to dwell. “Trucy?” Sebastian says when Clay finally stops for breath. “When did your dad last tune this thing?”

“I don’t think he knows how to do that or what that is,” she replies. The levitating hat next to her bobs like her head does.

“Oh,” Sebastian says, staring blankly ahead. “That’s an offense – affront – I’m trying to come up with more synonyms and blanking—”

“Shitty,” Clay suggests.

“I was thinking more about how it affects us that just describing what it is,” Sebastian says, “but… yeah.”

“Disgust-inducing,” Clay says.

“Hey Sebby,” Kay says. “Do you remember that one bar wherever in Europe that they like, had the shots that they lit on fire? Do you remember that?”

“If this is to ask if I’ll set the champagne on fire, the answer is no,” Sebastian says. “That seems like an affront, a, uh – blasphemy! Feels like blasphemy, here. Particularly.”

“I don’t think Mia cares about casual use of magic,” Trucy says.

Oh. So they aren’t talking lighters or matches. “You – uh, Prosecutor Debeste,” Apollo says, feeling like he has the answer to a riddle but that he’s somehow taking a shot in the dark. “You wouldn’t happen to be the witch-prosecutor that Prosecutor Edgeworth and Gavin mention, are you?”

“Oh.” His face falls, immediately, and he doesn’t recover right away, not the way Apollo is used to Trucy and Klavier throwing up masks. “I – probably? I must be. I don’t actually know that there are any other witches in the office, not that I’ve seen or Seen” – he doesn’t say the word the same way when he repeats it, the implication obvious. “So if they said anything bad don’t tell me.”

“It was back in October, when he was annoyed with people trying to check in on him,” Apollo says. “So whatever he said was probably just – annoyed.”

“Yeah, he got like that,” Kay says. “Gets. Whatever. He’s been a little better and now it’s Mr Edgeworth who’s getting cagey and secretive with all that secret Chief Prosecutor business.”

Apollo’s phone buzzes. He expects a message from Klavier, because there’s no one else he regularly texts who isn’t in this room, but it’s Clay.

-witch -guess i shouldnt consider meeting cute guys around u bc everyone is like this 

Apollo makes sure that Clay sees him roll his eyes and put his phone back into his pocket without replying. He could say a lot about how despite that, Clay has still acted like that about Klavier.

“Hey,” Trucy says. “You should tell me and Polly all of the Prosecutors Office secrets, so that we’re totally prepared for whatever we face in court next!”

Ema flicks a Snackoos at Sebastian. “We don’t have secrets,” she says. “Everyone’s way too dramatic for that.”

“Set the grape juice on fire,” Kay says.

“Speaking of secret business,” Sebastian says, clearly and deliberately ignoring Kay’s request and when Trucy seconds it. “Kay, did you know Agent Lang is in town? Because I ran into him just a bit ago coming out of Mr Edgeworth's office with a stack of files, said they’re working on something, I have no idea what but they both seemed – kind of super unhappy.”

“What?” It’s easy to see what Ema meant when she said they’re dramatic; Kay springs up from her perch on the arm of the couch and puts her hands on her hips, frowning with a pout almost as unnecessarily exaggerated as some of Trucy’s. “Wolfman is around and didn’t tell me! I can’t believe him!”

Apollo wonders if he’ll ever reach the end of this network of people Phoenix knows, or if he’ll ever understand it. “It worries me when you say things like ‘Wolfman’ because I have no idea if you mean ‘werewolf’ or ‘guy who really likes wolves’.” Like Trucy and her centaurs but the answer is probably going to be worse.

“Both,” Ema says without change in expression.

Apollo throws his hands in the air. “Oh come on!” Next to him, Ema winces and puts a hand up to her ear. She deserves the wrong side of the Chords of Steel for that.

“He’s not a werewolf,” Kay says. “You’re going to kill this poor guy.” She points at Apollo. “It’s a family thing. They’re all super into wolves. His hair is like—” She holds up her forefingers like ears at the top of her head. “But he can’t turn into a wolf. He would, but he can’t. Which is good for not giving random people on the street heart attacks because he’d just wander around like that because what is the point of shapeshifting if not messing with people?”

She spreads her arms wide like she’s either waiting for applause and agreement, or trying to draw out some kind of debate or dissension. Sebastian walks past her to where Jinxie and Vera have googled how to tune an upright piano. Ema throws a Snackoo at her.

“I think that’s a sound theory,” Clay says. “Isn’t that just the entire thing of the Fair Folk, messing with people?”

The lights blink off for two full seconds. Apollo freezes, as does Clay, but the group over at the piano don’t stop their conversation and Ema is still throwing snacks, now at Kay. Mia, messing with them; most of them, used to it. “What is the ratio of those you’ve eaten to those on the floor?” Apollo asks. Ema shrugs.

“Yeah that’s basically it,” Kay says to Clay.

“You see why I worry,” Apollo says. He can feel a weight gathering behind his eyes and higher at the front of his skull. The conversation is all suddenly too loud, backed by the force of the topics they’ve covered, what almost proved overwhelming earlier, fae judges and now prosecuting witches and petty shapeshifters, and he extracts himself from the middle of it and retreats back toward Charley’s corner.

“You okay, Polly?” Trucy doesn’t give him a chance to catch his breath alone; she appears at his elbow, looking up at him with concern.

“Does it ever just hit you that this is all kind of completely mad?” he asks. “All this – this everything?” She pats his arm sympathetically. “Because it just hit me again, that just – last year I was pretty sure of what I could expect from my life.” And then, April. And then, Phoenix. “This year I know I’m going in without a clue! Just waiting for the fae to amp it up to celebrate the new year!”

“They won’t do that,” Trucy says. Her confidence is reassuring until she adds, “Time works differently for them. They don’t know when’s a new year or what. They’ll just amp it up for no reason if they want to, nothing by our calendars.”

“See?” Apollo asks. “That’s what I mean. Uncertainty and terror.”

She leans her elbow on the bookshelf and pokes at the spines of the large tomes. “Lawyers and performers always gotta smile, right through to the end, whatever it is. And you know what?” She bounces a little in place but says nothing, waiting for him to play along with her.

“What?” he asks, trying to at least sound annoyed even if he can’t manage to feel it. Better not let her know how much she can get away with when Mr Hat is already bobbing around his shoulder, prodding him in the arm with the tip of the cardboard party hat.

“Lots happens, and we figure it out.” She stops moving, all but her head, turning to glance to the doorway to the next room, and beyond that, Apollo knows what she’s thinking of, a desk, a drawer, a soul encased inside. “We make it through. We always have.”

-

[brief note on this ending]