#i slept in this morning bc my body just shut down lol

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

either the day should have more hours or i should require Less Sleep ajkdsfhgd

[1kook]

dreamy

—pjm x (f) reader

summary; You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. warnings; ANGST lol, fwb, reader is very :(( rating; mature (18+) bc tiny smut lol  misc; small smut scene, a happy ending <3 wc; 2.5k

notes; i have to post on #JIMIN’s bday or else i cannot live with myself anyway here’s me trying to fit an entire novella plot line in less than 5k words clap for me except maybe don't bc its not proofread anyway hbd jimin <3

Jimin is a nice guy, but you doubt he’d make a nice boyfriend. He fucks you hard and fast, just as you like, but hardly goes out of his way to sprinkle in any other requests. He’s got a one track mind, doesn’t dwell too long on what you say or how you’re feeling. Doesn’t matter because he’s just supposed to be a fuck buddy, the hot guy you met at a party, so you don’t let it phase you. But, well. Jimin is dreamy.

Sometimes he holds your hand while he eats you out and it sends your thoughts into a frenzy, makes your heart pound a little too fast to brush it off as just arousal. He’s got this gorgeous smile, plush lips framing pearly teeth, and when he flashes it your way, it makes your knees weak. Tells you you’re pretty when he picks you up from class, always holds your hand on the way to his place for your routine fuck. Cute and nice like an angel, but just like an angel, he hardly gives a shit about anyone’s feelings but his own.

He laughs when you ask him to hang out that weekend.

“What, like a date?” he snorts, bare chest glistening from his post-fuck exertion. You're pressed against his side now, circling his pretty brown nipple with your finger. “That’s corny.”

You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. “Yeah, silly right,” you murmur, ear pressed to his heart. It’s calming and soothing, a slow thrum that contrasts with your own racing heart.

He’s not one for dates or for romantic things like that. But neither is he some player, a cheater, a two-timer. You can count the number of times he’s slept with someone who wasn’t you in your weird fuck buddy relationship, and all four of those had been when you first started sleeping together and only when you had been out of town. You’re no saint either, so you try to understand. He was just horny, liked getting his dick wet, and sometimes he couldn’t wait for you. Understandable, you tell yourself, but your heart hurts a little bit when he begins snoring without really answering your question.

See the thing is, you really like Jimin. It’s been a little over a year now since you’ve met, so you’ve had plenty of time to learn all about him. He doesn’t like pancakes for breakfast, prefers them for lunch actually, and laughs when you tell him that’s weird. He’s got this really dorky laugh, something between a bell and a whistle— it depends on the situation. Sometimes, Jimin likes when you play with his hair, and other times he doesn’t. He’s a sweet boy, you know he is, so why won’t he settle down?

You hate to attribute it to some past trauma, some “my girlfriend broke my heart when I was seventeen” mess, but the more time that passes you begin to believe it’s true. Jimin was a tough nut to crack, and the longer this drags on, the longer he ignores your feelings, you begin to doubt you will ever see them fulfilled.

Maybe you should end this now before it’s too late.

You don’t stay for breakfast the next morning, simply kiss him goodbye at the door like always. He’s older than you, about two years, so he doesn’t go to school anymore, just chills at home all weekend. “I’ll see you soon?” he grins, low-lidded eyes tracking the movement of your mouth as you bid him adieu. You never give him a solid response, figure a guy like Jimin will forget about you soon enough.

Then, suddenly, it’s been two weeks and he doesn’t reach out. Yeah it hurts, but it’s better than having confessed to him and losing him all at once. You’d rather this ending than the one where he terribly rejects you, breaks your heart into a million pieces, and throws you away. Still, it hurts.

Jimin was so cool. He was smart and confident, had a snappy sort of attitude that he liked to use now and then. He could be mean in bed, lick your cunt until you cried and call you a stupid girl when he wanted to. But that same tongue had snapped at a guy who was trying to pressure you into bed with him at a party. That first night you met, where you had sillily followed him home after his dashing intervention, you had thought it would be nothing more. Just a fling, just a fuck.

But then he was in your bed and in your head, twinkling eyes and cocky grin trailing after you everyday. He was so pretty and so suave, made you feel good even when he was being mean. But you suppose most cocky men like Jimin are like that. They know they don’t disappoint, even when they’re not really trying.

Jimin doesn’t call or text. You don’t see his car pull up outside your campus anymore. He’s gone and that’s that. You cry a little (see: a lot) and pretend you’re over him. You definitely don’t think about his soft laughter or his hands on your chest. Nope.

So that ends.

Or so you think.

Your friends say you’re mopey and sad, too down for someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend. It’s true, which sucks, but they honor your admittance by taking you out to a bar that night. It’s supposed to be chill and relaxing, just some drinks with the girls to soothe your aching heart. But the name of the bar reminds you of something, of someone you can’t reach anymore, and you don’t even know why. You’ve never been here before, never even knew this place existed. But everything about it brings you back to Jimin, like you’re in his space now, and you’re unsure why.

It reminds you of his laugh, his smile, to the point you swear you can hear it, right beside you, down the bar, to your left—

He waves.

There’s this look he used to give you every time he picked you up from your last class, this mix between adoration and lust that made your skin tingle with excitement. It’s not there now, in fact, it’s replaced with the complete opposite. It’s, like, the meanest look he can muster, something akin to a scowl. He smiles, but it’s so plastic-y and fake, it makes your head hurt. He’s so obviously unimpressed with you, probably because you ghosted him before he could ghost you. Maybe his pride is hurt and looking at you grosses him out. Maybe he just hates you.

Either way, eleven pm rolls around and you’re crying in the bathroom. Your friends are out on the floor having fun and singing karaoke. They think you’ve gone inside because you got your period, because that’s what you’ve told them. You don’t know how to explain that your ex who isn’t really your ex is out there looking at you like you’re a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. They’ve never even met Jimin. Why? Because he wasn’t your boyfriend. Who meets their friend’s fuck buddy? No one.

You sniffle, press a balled up tissue against your eyes in a feeble attempt to save your makeup. The bar isn’t that small, but neither is it huge. There’s only a few bathrooms in the back, and you’ve been hogging one of them for some time now. Someone knocks on the door, and you don’t even get the chance to ward them off before the crappy knob jingles and the door bursts open.

“Come on,” he grumbles, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta piss—“

He pauses, meets your eye through the mirror in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you blubber, hurriedly washing your hands in an effort to avoid his gaze. Jimin lingers at the door, which has long since fallen shut, and watches you with the eyes of a hawk. Your hands tremble and shake, fumble over the towel dispenser three times before you’re hastily making your escape. “Sorry,” you mutter again, head downcast as you move around him for the door.

Just as it cracks open, the music from outside filtering in, he slams it shut with a flat palm. You flinch, close in on yourself as he steps behind you. “What’re you doing here, doll?” he murmurs, deep yet careful. Tentative. “You don’t like bars.”

You know you don’t like bars. You didn’t know he knew that. “I’m with some friends,” you explain, jump when a hand touches your shoulder. “I— I’ll leave soon.”

A second attempt for the door is thwarted by Jimin. “Don’t,” he startles, breath heavy against your ear. “Don’t leave again…” he sighs, forehead against your shoulder. And then, quietly, “why did you leave me?”

Your heart syncs up with the music outside, thunders in your ears as you purse your lips. You don’t want to talk about it now, don’t want to confess to these emotions that drown you. Especially not when he’ll never understand nor will he ever care. It’s best to leave it as is, you convince yourself, slowly shrugging him off.

“We don’t want the same things,” you reply, eyes burning with the need to cry like a baby. But it’ll weaken your argument, make you look like the sentimental girl you know he won’t like. “It wouldn’t work anyway.”

The hand on your shoulder jerks you around, makes a gasp catch in your throat when he crowds you against the door. He’s got that same glare on from before, the one he had sent you across the bar earlier, and it makes your lower lip tremble when it’s this close. “You never asked me what I wanted,” he hisses.

It is then that you realize it isn't anger or disgust, but frustration that paints his features. It’s pure, unadulterated confusion and distress on his pretty face, furrowed brows and narrowed eyes pointed your way. You don’t know what it means, don’t know what he wants. “I,” you choke, weakly covering your face with your hand before he can see you crumble. “I just wanted you.”

Jimin deflates, steps closer until his body is pressed against yours, hands on your shoulders. “And you have me, doll,” he murmurs, bumps his nose against yours. “Always have.”

You shake your head, choke on a sob that bubbles up your throat. “No, not like that,” you stress, losing yourself in the emotions you spent so much time bottling up. “I wanted more.”

Jimin shushes you, guides your head into the crook of his neck where you paint his skin in dark mascara tears. “Is this about the date?” he sighs, patting your head gently.

“It’s more than just the date,” you cry, fists curling into the material of his shirt until it rumples beyond repair. He doesn’t understand.

Jimin nods, let’s you cry and sob until you’re feeling better and someone else is pounding at the door, yelling at you two to get a proper room. You don’t want a room, you only want his heart. 

He takes you home again, helps you out of your shoes at the door because you’re still sensitive and quiver like a leaf when you walk. His bedroom is familiar, smells like him and his detergent. You miss it so much, want to savor it once more. Something in your gut says this is the last time, this is just Jimin getting one last fuck out of you before he really abandons you.

So you cry when he sits down on the edge of the bed. He hasn’t even said anything, hasn’t even taken his socks off yet, but you’re already a mess.

And of course he’s there to catch you, tugs you between his legs to look up at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, reaching up to brush away your tears. But it’s not your fault that he looks like that right before he’s going to break your heart.

He’s so cool, even when you’re falling apart in his hands. “You don’t want me,” you sniffle, let him guide you onto his lap. “You just want to fuck and that’s it.”

Jimin leans his forehead against yours, warm breath washing over your skin. “I never said that,” he murmurs. “We’ve been over this.”

You huff. “Well you never said you did either,” you snap, rubbing at your eyes.

You cry and cry some more, until your sobs subside and you’re left with the hiccups afterwards. Jimin maneuvers you beside him, lets your hair spill across the sheets as he lays you down. They smell just like him, make your head spin when he kisses your cheek softly. “I want you,” he confesses. “I want this.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, you don’t,” you sniff, but you’re not so sure. It’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the longest. Hearing him say otherwise sounds weird, even if he’s saying what you want to hear. “You don’t.”

Jimin catches your hand in his, pins it to the mattress. “I want you to be mine,” he adds, swallows your cries of denial with his lips. He kisses softly, and for the first time, it feels like he’s paying attention to you. Not your body or your lust, but your heart. “Had me feeling like shit when you didn’t come back. Like I lost something big.”

You still cry when he kisses down your neck, over your chest. His hands pull your clothes off, carefully like you’re a present for him to unwrap. Those plush lips you love so much drown you in kisses, over your tummy and your mound, until they’re buried between your cunt. “You’re mine,” he husks out, hand entwined with yours.

His eyes are dark from down there, long lashes blinking up at you as he dips his tongue in the places you crave him most. It brings you to a shuddering end, has you whimpering his name into the empty air until your toes are curling and you’re coming against his mouth. Jimin has never shied away from you, and doesn’t know, sits up with a hazy look in his eyes as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Jimin wastes no time undressing, pushes off that sexy jacket until his lithe body is coming into view, thick thighs and lean abdomen. He slides right into you, holds your knees to your chest as he fucks you like never before. It’s slow and sensual, makes you shiver when he says your name in that low register of his. “Don’t leave again,” he whimpers, cock throbbing between your walls. He’s desperate today, ruts like you’ll slip right between his fingertips. It’s funny because you're the same way, clinging onto his shoulders until you’re practically glued together.

You come and so does Jimin. He pants against your ear, feels so warm and heavy on top of you. He doesn’t say much more that night, just plays with your hair. But he asks you on a date, mentions something about a carnival. “Yes,” you respond right away, because, well.

Jimin was dreamy. Maybe he’d be a good boyfriend.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[harrywritingsbyme]

🍭🍭so I dont get lost🍭🍭, could u write something about harry being soft dom.. saying things like "you like that baby?" "use your words" "such a good girl for me, arent you?" haha idk but not any of that -ur a slut- stuff pls lol 💖💖💖 ur blog

The one where Harry takes care of Y/n

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: I got a request for some prompts from the prompt list, along with some aftercare too. Plus, I had planned on writing something using the two concepts so it all works out! I love writing about either Harry or Y/n being in their respective subspaces. Last Friday, I did sub!Harry which I absolutely LOVED! And this Friday, I rlly wanted to show sub!Y/n some love bc how could I not?! This one’s cute in a filthy way if that makes any sense. It’s pretty descriptive too...Enjoy🙃

13. “What do you want- my tongue? Fingers? Or both?”

16. “You like that princess? Does my princess like that?”

22. “Where do you want it?”

 Harry loved it when you were deep into your subspace. The main and sole reason why he loved it so much was because he got to dote on and spoil you as much as he wanted. You’d been in your subspace all day long, which meant that he got to spend the entire day completely taking care of you. From the moment you two woke up, you were feeling really small and in desperate need of Harry’s attention. Luckily for you, Harry was more than happy to shower you in it. For the entire day, he made you feel like a princess. His spoiling you ranged from picking out your outfit in the morning, to letting you cockwarm him while you took a nap in the middle of the day (luckily he had some work to do so he wouldn’t be all alone while you slept). Anything you wanted, Harry did. And he wasn’t planning on stopping. 

You and Harry had just gotten out of the shower where he spent most of the time taking care of and getting you cleaned up before bed. You loved feeling his strong, and large hands on your body as he got you nice and clean. You also loved having his cock pressed against you from behind while he cleaned you up. Once you both were all cleaned up, Harry wraps a towel around his waist, and he wraps you up as well before carrying you both to the bedroom. If you had to choose one thing Harry did while you were in your subspace that you enjoyed the most, it’d be the way Harry went about getting you ready for bed. After you both are dried off, he sits you down at the edge foot the bed and goes through a few different options of his shirts and couple pairs of your panties that you could wear to bed. This was only the first part, what he’d do. When you finally choose what you want to wear, which in this case is nothing, Harry quickly puts the remaining clothes away before moving right into rubbing lotion all over your body. Whenever you weren’t in your subspace, you’d always moisturize before bed. But since you couldn’t do it for yourself, Harry makes sure to do it for you. He made sure to get every last part of your body. He even made sure to start on your back so that he could spend most of his time on your front.

There was no denying that his hands were magical. The way his hands felt on your body, felt utterly amazing. They were so amazing that you couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers from leaving your mouth. 

“Does my princess like that?” Harry chuckles softly, continuing to smooth and massage his hands across your body. Feeling his hands all over you, and hearing his deep voice as he called you his princess made you more sensitive, needier, and wetter for him.

“So much daddy.” You moan in response with a small smile. As he worked his hands up your body, he made sure to dig his fingers into your pressure points. He just finished working the insides of your thighs and he was now moving up to your lower stomach. You could feel his fingers digging into the area and your mind went straight to his cock. 

With this subject, your mind went everywhere. You started off thinking about how much you wanted to have him nestled all the way inside you. You wanted to feel fullness of having his entire cock inside of you. Your mind then went to how much you wanted to play with his cock. You wanted to have your face between his legs as you touched and sucked on his cock. You need for his cock was so great that you even managed to open your eyes that were tightly screwed shut to look at him. Your eyes go straight down to the area between his legs and you get the perfect view of him. From the way Harry was positioned, he was kneeling slightly on top of you. As he got higher up on your body, he had to lift himself onto his knees a little bit so that he could massage his hands into you better. As Harry’s hands moved up your body, so did his eyes. As he massaged your chest, Harry’s eyes went back and forth between your breasts and your face. Whenever he looked at your face, he noticed that you weren’t looking up, but instead you were looking down. It didn’t take much to realize that you were staring at his cock.

“What do you want baby- my tongue? Fingers? Or both?” He asks out of the blue, continuing to move his hands around your chest. He already knew that in this moment you’d want neither, but he just wanted to hear your needy mouth. 

“Want your cock daddy.” You mewl in response. 

“Where do you want it sweet girl?” He continues, beginning to swirl his thumbs around your pert and sensitive nipples. 

“In my tummy.” You mumble back. “But I wanna play with it first daddy.” You quickly rush out.

“My baby wants to play with my cock huh?” Harry hums, pushing a hand up from your breasts and right around your neck. He then brings his face down to yours and he lays the rest of his body against yours. When he does this, you can feel his cock lying against you. “Let me see those pretty eyes babygirl.” Harry coos, squeezing your neck a little bit in the process. Once your eyes flutter open, you’re met with Harry’s and your strong need for him intensifies even more. “Y’look so pretty when you’re all needy f’me.” He admires, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You can have m’cock,” Harry begins. “Only if you let daddy do one thing.” Before he can even finish, you’re nodding your head yes. You’d do anything if it meant that you’d get to play with and eventually take his cock. “Good girl, now open y’mouth f’me baby.” He instructs, pushing himself up from you with his free hand while keeping the other wrapped around your throat. 

As he massaged you, he felt himself drift into his domspace. It wasn’t intense as it could be, but it was enough for him to want a bit more control over you. And since you were deep into your subspace, he knew that he could get it. In the blink of an eye, your mouth is wide open and waiting for him to do something. Without waiting any longer, Harry brings his mouth down to yours, he puckers them a little and the next thing you knew, you felt and watched his spit fall into your mouth. Immediately after it lands onto your tongue, you shut your mouth and you swallow. You swallow quickly and you open your mouth back up for more. “Does my greedy little baby want more?” Harry asks amusedly. When you nod yes, he brings his mouth back to give you one more. “This is the last one though, wanna let you play with m’cock.” Harry reminds you before spitting into your mouth one final time. After you swallow, Harry lets go of your throat and pecks the tip of your nose before lying on the bed next to you. 

You waste no time crawling right between his spread legs. You lay flat against the bed and you wrap your hand around his cock. From Harry’s position, he could see the way you were almost adoringly staring at his cock. This was another thing Harry loved about you being in your subspace. Whenever you were like this, you became a mess for him. Along with having an overwhelming need and desire for Harry’s cock, you also felt the need to take care of him and make him feel good. It was almost as if you were worshipping him; well, more like his cock.

“Y’like playin’ with daddy’s cock babygirl?” Harry pants, looking down at the way you’re playing with him in your small hands. He watched as you tugged and squeezed at him, you even played with his balls a bit. 

“I love playing with your cock daddy.” You reply happily before wrapping your lips around the head to suckle on it. When you do this, Harry immediately curses under his breath. The way your soft lips wrapped around him, along with the way you swirled your tongue around his slit felt incredible to Harry. What made it even better was the fact that you were in “worship mode” so to speak. Since this was the case,  Harry decides to play into it a little bit. Before you push your mouth further down down onto him, Harry quickly cups your chin and he softly pulls your mouth off of him. 

“Want yeh tell daddy how good his cock is before you suck on it.” He instructs you. Harry telling you to do this stemmed directly from him having a strong praise kink. He loved it when you told him how good his cock was or felt. He loved watching you obsess and fall apart because of his cock too. This feeling only intensified when he was in his domspace. This was one of the ways Harry felt like he was in control. And you being in your subspace meant that you’d obsess over his cock on a completely different level, which would in turn fulfill Harry’s need to feel like he was in control. You’d tell him everything and go on and on about how amazing his cock was. Which was exactly what you did. 

“I love your cock so much daddy.” You begin, tugging at his shaft. “S’so big and  thick daddy, can barely fit in my hand or inside me.” You mewl, smiling up at him. 

“Tell me more baby.” Harry pants down to you. 

“Smells and tastes good too.” You chuckle sweetly. After saying this, you bring your face down even closer to his cock and you begin to rub his cock all over your face. Harry couldn’t believe the sight in front of him. You laying between his legs, pushing his cock all over your face that had a wide smile plastered across it. “I love your balls too daddy. Love how they’re nice and big and always filled with your cum.” You continue with a smile, opening your mouth to suck one of them into your mouth.

“Fuck!” Harry shouts, feeling your mouth suck on one of his balls. He could hear, and feel you happily hum at having him in your mouth. After sucking a little longer, you pop it back out of your mouth and you move to the other. 

“I would suck on them at once, but they’re too big daddy.” You explain sweetly. You then send a small pout his way before going in to take it into your mouth. Harry felt like he was in heaven. The way you sucked his balls into your mouth while not only continuing to squeeze on his cock, but also describing his cock in the process was mind-blowing. You then pop the other one of his balls out of your mouth and you come back up to his cock. “I love love love how your cock barely fits into my mouth and goes all the way down my throat too daddy.” You sigh before slowly sinking your mouth down onto him. In the beginning, it was really hard to take all of Harry’s cock into your mouth; you could barely take half of him inside. But with practice and help from Harry, you were finally able to take all of him. While you were happily taking him into your mouth/throat, Harry was trying his hardest to keep his head up and watch you. He struggles to watch as you push your mouth all the way down his cock. You were so far down that your nose was pressing into the hairs surrounding his cock.

Having Harry’s cock lodged deep down your throat made you feel two things. Needy and prideful. Doing this made your need for Harry to be deep inside of you even greater. It caused a throbbing sensation to form in your core, which led you to begin pushing yourself back and forth against the bed. Relieving yourself of some of the tension in your pussy felt so good, even if it was just against the mattress. And because it felt so good, you moaned. You moaned right around Harry’s cock. When Harry feels this, his head falls back against the bed and one of his hands flies straight to your hair. As you slowly begin to pull your mouth back up his shaft, you begin to feel a little loopy. You did hold your mouth down for a little longer than usual. When you’re fully off of him, you begin tug at his now soaked shaft.

“What I love most about your cock daddy is how it stretches my pussy daddy. It fills me up so good that I can feel it in my tummy.” You whimper, continuing to squeeze, lick, and tug at his cock while digging your cunt into the sheets. When Harry hears you whimper this to him, he lifts his head and looks down to see you whimpering and moaning while you push yourself into the bed. 

“Want daddy’s cock in y’pretty little tummy of yours sweet girl?” Harry grumbles, continuing to watch you rub yourself against the bed while playing with him.

“Please daddy” you beg.

“Then lay on y’back f’me baby.” Harry pants. As soon as he gives you this instruction, you release your grip on his cock and you follow his instruction. You’re laying on the bed next to him with your legs spread, patiently(not really) waiting for him to get in between them. It doesn’t take that long before Harry musters up enough strength to get up and move in between your legs where you wanted him. He then pulls you by your calves, so that you’re closer to him. When he does this, he really gets to see just how soaked you are for him.

“Would you look at that.” Harry admires, bringing two fingers down to your center. “This pretty little cunt of yours is soaking baby.” He points out, pushing two fingers up your folds to collect some of your arousal. He drags them all the way up to your clit which causes a loud gasp to leave your mouth. “And how could I forget about this swollen little button of yours.” He continues, using his thumb to swirl his finger around it.

“Oh my- daddy!” You whine, bucking your hips up into his hand. “Need your cock.” You continue to whine. 

“How bad do you need it? Tell daddy how bad you need his cock.” He says calmly, even though he was dying to be inside of you already. 

“My tummy’s starting to burn.” You cry out to him.

“Right here sweet girl?” Harry asks, bringing his free hand up to your lower stomach and ever so slightly pressing it down into you. 

“Mhm!” You mumble loudly, feeling the burning sensation intensify as he pressed further into you.

“Use your words doll.” Harry softly repremands. “Is this where you feel it?” He asks again, this time expecting a real answer from you. 

“Yes daddy.” You mewl before bringing your lower lip between your teeth.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.” Harry promises. 

He then brings the hand that was on your stomach to your hip, and he uses the other to line his cock up with your entrance. When you feel the thick head of him against your entrance, your moans get even louder. When he hears and sees you like this, Harry begins to push into you.

“Such a good girl, takin m’cock so well.” Harry praises, continuing to fill you to the brim. While he’s pushing into you, you’re a complete mess. He wasn’t fully inside yet and your legs were already quaking. You could feel your walls stretching to fit his thick girth, and you could feel him pushing into you inch after inch. Once Harry was nearly all the way inside, he brings his now free hand to the other side of your waist and he pushes the rest of the way in. 

“Fuck daddy!” You cry out to him. You could feel his cock hitting the deepest part of you. You were completely filled with his cock. There was no other feeling like it for either of you. It felt so good that a chill ran down the both of your spines when he hit that spot inside of you.

After taking a couple deep breaths, Harry begins to move his cock inside of you. After a few shallow, and a few soft thrusts, Harry decides to speed it up a bit. He wanted you to really feel his cock. When hr starts to speed up, your moans and whines turn into full on screams and cries. With each thrust you could feel him slam into your sweet spot. It didn’t take long for you to turn into a screaming, crying, quivering, and drooling mess below him. And thats exactly what Harry wanted to see. He wanted to see how much of a mess for his cock you could be. He wanted to see just how bad you needed him. 

“Look at my little baby taking daddy’s big cock.” Harry mocks, looking down at your completely disheveled and disoriented state. He could feel your spongey walls clenching around him and just knew that you were about to explode. He let’s go of one of your sides and he reaches out to grab one of your hands that were limply laying in the bed next to your also limp body (the only place you weren’t limp was from your hips to about mid thigh). He brings your hand down, and he presses it into your lower stomach. “Feel me in your tummy baby?” He pants, speeding up his thrusts and pressing your hand down a little harder so that you could really feel it. “Feels good doesn’t it.” He grunts, feeling his own release coming onto the verge of crashing down onto him.

“So good daddy! M’gonna cum.” You cry out to him. Your release was speeding towards you and it wasn’t going to stop. 

“Tell me how big daddy’s cock is inside you!” Harry growls.

“So big!” You reply wearily. At this, Harry sends one final thrust into you. This one is very deep and sharp. So much so that the both of you not only gasp at the feeling, but you both explode from it. As the two of you came, the two of you got louder. This was the release that the both of you were looking for. This release also lasted for a good while. Harry emptied so much of his cum into you that it began gushing out as he pulled his cock out of you. 

This release hit you both so hard that it knocked you out of your subspace, and Harry out of his domspace. And it left the both of your bodies fully numb and your mouths at a complete loss for words. 

Masterlist

[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

Hi!!! Love your writing style you're so cool! I was wondering if you'd be able to write a sickfic focusing on atsumu and osamu-specifically atsumu taking care of his little brother! And maaaybe if you wanted to add some angst before it got better 👀 anyways hope you have a wonderful dayyyyy 😊

Anonymous said:

Can I get an unexpected sick atsumu that is at home from school with his brother after sleeping in. Their mother had the day off and didn’t feel like going anywhere so she allowed them to stay home. Maybe in the middle of the afternoon Atsumu starts to feel strangely sick but he hoped it would pass if he took a nap. He slept on the top bunk while Osamu plays video games on the bottom when he sudden wakes up without warning and starts to projectile spew. Caretaker Mom (cause I need some sweet momma content) and Osamu being supportive and understanding.

The Biggest Idiot of All Idiots: a Miya twins sick fic

Characters: sick Atsumu, caretakers Osamu & Mama Miya (lol)

Word Count: 3,426 (!!!)

Warnings: swearing, heat exhaustion passing out, and Miya-family shenanigans

Part 2

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Thank you for the requests and kind words!! I combined it with one from @super-secret-sick-fics

I changed a couple details, but tried to stay mostly true to what was asked for! I hope that’s okay :)

This is gonna be a two-parter bc it got to be way too long. I’m not sure when Part 2 will be up yet.

I didn’t edit this at all (I never do, honestly) and I know I’ll hate myself for that later. But alas, I have zero patience so here it is!

Enjoy :)

————————————————————

Atsumu was rudely awakened by something annoying and probably stupid pushing up on his back.

“Tsumu, get outta bed ya lazy asshole.”

Ah yes, the annoying and definitely stupid thing was his equally annoying and stupid brother shoving the bottom of his mattress up from the bottom bunk.

“Why?” he grumbled and flipped over onto his stomach. He buried his head into his pillow and sighed. There was a subtle ache nagging at him on the left side of his head and he wanted it to go away.

“Cause Ma took the day off to do yard work and chores with us. It’s ‘sposed to be hot today so we said we’d do the yard work first thing. Remember? Or are you really that stupid?”

Osamu’s face popped up over the railing of Atsumu’s bed. His brother’s normal deadpan stare was accented by a single eyebrow raise of expectation.

Atsumu narrowed his eyes at him for a brief moment before groaning. He sat up and the pain in his head spread to encompass the rest of his head. Immediately, he was cranky.

“Fine. Just get outta my face,” Atsumu all but spit. Osamu’s face scrunched up, but he jumped down to the floor.

“What’s crawled up yer ass so early?” He mumbled, pulling on some athletic shorts. Atsumu wanted to respond with something snarky, but the pain in his head muddled his thoughts and he couldn’t think of anything clever enough.

“Screw you,” he settled on and crawled to the ladder to get out of bed. The headache would most likely go away after he ate something, so there was no need to say anything about it and risk getting teased.

Osamu eyed him, a frown on his face for a second. Then he scoffed.

“Alright assface. I’ll be downstairs. Ma made breakfast.” With that, he left the room.

Atsumu took his time getting dressed and ready for the day. He was moving slower thanks to the ache in his skull. The dumb headache also made his body feel tired and achy so he didn’t really feel the need to push things and make it worse.

“Good mornin’, Sweetheart!” His mother greeted when he finally made it to the kitchen. She was at the stove, flipping some pancakes, her salt and pepper hair pulled back in a loose braid. She was already in work clothes. Atsumu had to admit that it was going to be nice to spend some time with his mom. Their father ran a small convenience store, so she had to work full time to help supplement that income. He was excited to spend time with either of his parents when he could, even if it was doing chores.

The twins had, of course, offered to get part time jobs. However, both of their parents shut down the idea quickly, telling them to focus on volleyball and “enjoying their youth.”

“Mornin’” he yawned and sat down across from Osamu at the table. He was already half way done eating and scrolled mindlessly through his phone. Atsumu tried to do the same, but the tiny words and the blue light from his phone only exacerbated his headache, so he sighed and gave up. Instead, he put his head down on his arms and waited for his mom to tell him to come get his food. After a minute, Osamu kicked his shin under the table.

“Oi, what’re ya doin’?” he asked roughly. Atsumu rolled his eyes and exhaled, annoyed.

“‘M tired. That alright with ya?” He glared at his brother. Osamu kept steady eye contact, rising to Atsumu’s challenge. The lights burned though, and Atsumu had to blink. He clicked his tongue and turned his head away.

“Yer bein’ weirder than normal,” Osamu said with his mouth full of pancake. Atsumu’s lip curled in disgust.

“Yer disgustin’.”

“Says the pig.”

“Listen—“

“Tsumu! Come get yer breakfast!” Miya-san interrupted. Osamu smirked at him, smug about getting the last word.

Atsumu sat down at the table with a single pancake, half a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a glass of orange juice. His mother gave him an earful about not eating enough and he was sure that Samu would do the same.

Osamu eyed his plate and then eyed Atsumu and then his breakfast again. His twin pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything, shoving more food in his mouth.

While Atsumu was grateful that his brother didn’t comment on his smaller-than-usual meal, he was incredibly suspicious of the lack of insults.

The truth was, Atsumu’s stomach felt...wrong. He wasn’t sure what it was because he didn’t feel sick persay, but he didn’t feel good either. Starting off with a smaller meal and going back for seconds was more appealing to him than having a plate full of food that his brother and mom would force him to eat.

Atsumu ate his meal in silence and hoped that it would help his headache and the strange feeling in his stomach before he had to spend all afternoon doing yard work in the blazing summer heat.

***

Osamu watched his brother weeding the flower bed with a careful eye. Something was wrong. He knew it from the moment Atsumu woke up. His stupid brother wouldn’t tell him anything (if he even registered it himself, the idiot) so the only thing he could do was keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t start crying or dying.

They’d been outside for about an hour and a half now, weeding, mowing the lawn, planting new flowers, and whatever else their mom wanted and it was only getting hotter. The sun wasn’t even directly above them yet, but the heat surrounded them like a thick blanket. It felt like Osamu was moving through a pool of jell-o while he pushed the lawn mower forward.

Osamu was sweating and panting ever so slightly, but Atsumu looked like he just returned from a grueling volleyball game. He was dripping sweat and his shoulders moved visibly up and down with each breath he took. Osamu figured that his brother was probably dehydrated and too stupid to admit it or too stupid to realize it.

“Tsumu,” Osamu called. Atsumu pulled his head up from the weeds and squinted at his brother across the lawn. He was pale, and all of Osamu’s twinstincts told him Atsumu needed to go inside quickly.

“Wanna go get lunch?” He tried, because Atsumu was dumb and wouldn’t admit that something was wrong, so Osamu needed to find some excuse for them to go inside. There, his mother would realize that something was up and force his brother to rest and hydrate.

“We just ate not that long ago. You that hungry, ya pig?” Came the snappy comeback. It had less bite to it than usual. The lack of venom from this and the weak comebacks from this morning only solidified for Osamu that his brother was not alright. That, coupled with the sheer amount of sweat and his continued heavy breaths made it seem like the idiot was dying or something.

“Screw you,” Osamu sneered (because even if something was wrong with his stupid brother he was still an unbearable asshole). “It’s hot and I’m working up more of a sweat. So yeah, ‘m hungry.” Atsumu waved him off lethargically.

“Then you go in. I’m almost done here,” Atsumu all but wheezed and turned back to the flower bed. Osamu took a deep breath and tried to remember that he was attempting to be a good brother and good brothers don’t punch their dying brothers in the face.

“Just come in and get some water then,” Osamu offered, walking to stand behind his brother. Atsumu looked over his shoulder, his ugly face contorted into confusion.

“Why’re you being so nice?”

Osamu squeezed his fist by his side.

“If you get dehydrated, I’ll have to play setter tomorrow at mornin’ practice and I don’t wanna.”

Hopefully the threat of being replaced, even if temporarily, would get Atsumu to see some sense. The longer Osamu studied him the more (begrudging) concern he felt. Now that he was closer, he noticed a glaze over Atsumu’s eyes and a flush to his cheeks.

Osamu surmised from this that his stupid idiot brother caught a summer cold like a stupid idiot.

Atsumu hesitated, but eventually, nodded. He put his hands on his knees to push himself up. Osamu let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. One battle down. Next he’d have to convince him to rest up some.

His relief was short-lived. As soon as Atsumu stood up, his knees buckled underneath him and he fell back onto Osamu heavily. Startled, Osamu just barely managed to keep his balance and catch him, holding Atsumu under his arms.

“What the fu--” he started, ready to lay into Atsumu, only to be stopped by the vacant look in his brother’s eyes. It was different from the haze he noticed just a second ago. It was like Atsumu wasn’t seeing anything. His eyes stared off blankly at nothing, half-lidded and foggy. He was still panting, but it was shallower, if possible.

The next thing Osamu noticed was how cool Atsumu’s skin felt, despite the intense heat and the flush of his cheeks. Atsumu, the dumbass, was indeed not okay.

“Tsumu? Hey, can you hear me?” Osamu asked. Atsumu’s eyes slowly found Osamu’s, but it still didn’t look like he registered anything. The only response he got was a whine.

“Shit. Yer so freakin’ stupid, you dumbass,” Osamu muttered. Atsumu groaned. There was no way he could get Atsumu into the house without help. Thankfully, the flower bed was near the front door, so he wouldn’t have to take him far, but the door was shut in an attempt to keep the hot air outside, so he needed help.

“Ma!” Osamu yelled, “Ma! C’mere, quick! Tsumu’s sick!” Atsumu winced at his brother’s volume.

“Sorry, ‘Tsumu, I’m sorry. Fuck. I can’t believe you--” Osamu said frantically, despite himself. He really didn’t like his brother, but he still loved him and this was still very scary.

Their mom was at the door a second later, concern already painted on her face. Upon noticing her one son all but unconsciousness, leaning on her other son, the concern grew to panic and she was outside and beside them in no time flat.

“What in the hell happened?” she asked, brushing Atsumu’s hair back. Her eyes widened when she no doubt picked up on the abnormal cool temperature of his brother’s skin.

“He’s been actin’ weird all mornin’. Then he came out here in this heat and I just convinced him to go inside for some water when he passed out. He’s so freakin’ stupid.” Osamu explained.

“Of course, the stubborn idiot. Let’s get him inside and cool him off,” his mother said, still holding Tsumu’s face.

“Yeah. I can do it, I just need yer help with the door and getting him on my back,” Osamu replied. The longer they were in this heat the more dangerous it became so they needed to move as quickly as they could without making things worse.

Together, they managed to get Atsumu on Osamu’s back.

“Hold on, idiot,” Osamu commanded. Atsumu buried his face into his brother’s shoulders. He weakly grabbed onto his wrist to keep his arms wrapped around Osamu’s shoulder. Relief trickled in to meet Osamu’s panic when he realized that meant that Atsumu may be coming to just a little. Yeah

As soon as they were inside, their mom went to the kitchen to get some water and wet rags while Osamu took his imbecile brother to the couch. He laid him down, putting his feet up on the arm rest (all the boys on the volleyball team knew how to deal with heat exhaustion) and brought the fan closer. He sat on the floor beside Atsumu’s feet and waited for him to come back.

Miya-san came back a second later with a sports drink and several wash cloths. She placed one on Atsumu’s forehead and he sighed (Osamu was once again relieved that his brother seemed to be registering at least a little of his surroundings). The others she used to pat down his arms and legs.

The next few minutes were tense and silent as they waited for the idiot of the bunch to cool down and return to the land of the fully conscious.

“Sa-Samu?” Atsumu breathed. Osamu’s head whipped towards his brother. Atsumu was squeezing his eyes shut, a deep frown settled on his face.

“Tsumu, thank god,” Osamu exhaled heavily.

“Atsumu, baby, can you hear me? How’re ya feelin’?” Their mother asked gently, sweeping his hair back and sitting on the floor beside his head.

Atsumu’s eyes trailed lazily to meet their mother’s and he took a second longer than Osamu would have liked to respond.

“Head...head hurts,” he whined and closed his eyes again, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Mhm, that’s to be expected when yer a dummy that got heat exhaustion. When yer ready, I need ya to sit up and drink something, okay?” She said, cupping his cheek. Her words, though seemingly harsh, were always soft. They never failed to comfort the twins whenever they were upset about something.

Atsumu visibly leaned into her touch.

“H-hot,” he murmured.

“No, shit, idiot,” Osamu responded. His mother shot him a glare. He rolled his eyes at her hypocrisy.

Another few minutes later, and they eased Atsumu into a sitting position and handed him the green sports drink (which Osamu found gross, but was his brother’s favorite). He took small sips and deep breaths.

“I’m goin’ to go get ya a little something to munch on, alright baby? Call me if ya need something,” Miya-san said. She kissed the top of his head and left the room.

Osamu watched his brother with a careful eye. He took in the flush of his cheeks, the paleness of the rest of his face, his shaking hand that rested subtly on his stomach. Sure, he just passed out and these things should be no surprise, but something deep in Osamu’s bones told him that Atsumu was hiding something; that something more was wrong.

“‘M gonna go help, Ma. Don’t do anything stupid.” Osamu stood and Atsumu nodded. The lack of a return insult, the lack of any verbal response at all from his obnoxious twin set all of Osamu’s nerves on edge.

“Ma,” he said as he entered the kitchen, “I think Tsumu is really sick.” He leaned against the counter where she was getting some crackers to put on a plate.

“He just passed out from heat exhaustion, Samu of course he’s sick.” She smiled at him softly.

“No, no. I mean… he’s been weird all mornin’ and I think somethins’ wrong,” Osamu pushed. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but his whole body told him that Atsumu was being a bigger idiot than either of them realized.

Miya-san glanced over at her son. Osamu tried to convey on his face how strongly he felt about this, how she needed to believe him. She studied him for a second before nodding and turning back to the plate.

“Okay. We’ll keep an eye on him, alright?” Osamu’s shoulders relaxed minutely.

In the living room, Atsumu was lying down again, his head pillowed against the arm rest and his legs curled into his stomach. He was still frowning.

“Tsumu, you should eat something,” Osamu tried. The frown on Atsumu’s face morphed into a grimace.

“Don’t wanna…” he replied, petulantly.

“Just a few crackers, please?” Miya-san asked, sitting by Atsumu’s feet. He looked between the two of them and sighed.

“Fine,” he relented. Too easily, for Osamu’s liking. On Osamu’s list of Things To Hate About Atsumu, stubbornness was easily in the top three.

Atsumu nibbled on a few crackers until their mother seemed satisfied and left the room. As soon as she did, Atsumu collapsed heavily back onto the couch.

Osamu paused for a second before he gave in to his baser instincts as a brother and twin and sat beside Atsumu on the couch. Almost immediately, Atsumu repositioned himself to lean on Osamu’s shoulder.

Osamu felt the tension ease out of his shoulders when his brother exhaled slowly and shakily, closing his eyes.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on? Or are you gonna continue to be stupid?” Osamu asked after a moment.

His ill twin tenses again and Osamu almost feels bad. Key word: almost.

(If Atsumu was going to continue being an asshole, he would not feel bad if this came and bit him in the ass.)

“...I don’t know. Just been feelin’ odd all day,” Atsumu relented and Osamu’s eyes disappeared behind his hairline.

“Must be feelin’ pretty bad if yer admittin’ it so easily,” Osamu teased. The guilt pooling in his stomach was not something he’d share with his brother easily. His pride wouldn’t let him.

That didn’t take away from the fact that it was there though. Of course it was. Osamu could tell something was off the second he looked at Atsumu’s face this morning, yet he let him go on and work in the scorching sun all morning.

“Mmm,” Atsumu hummed, easing further into his brother’s side.

“Can ya tell me what’s wrong?” Osamu rested his head on Atsumu’s.

“Head hurts. Stomach’s been feelin’ weird,” Atsumu yawned. Osamu nodded.

“Wanna go take a shower and lay in bed?”

“Can’t move even if I wanted to.”

“I’ll help ya, stupid,” Osamu scoffed.

“Why’re you bein’ so nice?” Atsumu asked again. Osamu wouldn’t acknowledge the twinge in his chest that came when Atsumu didn’t believe that Osamu could be nice to him when he needed to be.

“No one else is gonna be,” he said instead.

“Ma’s here,” came the rebuttal.

“Let’s just go upstairs. You should get some rest so I don’t have to sub for ya at practice tomorrow.”

“Hate to admit it, Samu, but I don’t think I’ll make practice tomorrow,” Atsumu grumbled.

And well. Fuck. If Atsumu was already thinking that way, if he wasn’t fighting him about practice, wasn’t convinced he’d go tomorrow, then he must be really sick. The rock in Osamu’s stomach got a little heavier.

“Let’s go,” Osamu said. Atsumu nodded.

“Ma! I’m taking Tsumu upstairs to shower and get in bed!” Osamu called to their mom.

With that, Osamu eased his brother to stand, trying to ignore the way his face paled when he was upright, and slowly they made their way upstairs.

Osamu made Atsumu take a cold shower before he allowed him to settle into bed.

(Atsumu protested and whined the whole time. Osamu kept to himself that the argument that ensued made him feel a little better about Atsumu’s overall condition.)

Atsumu fell asleep almost instantly, curled into a ball around his pillow. Osamu gave him a sweatshirt and some athletic shorts to wear because he kept complaining about being cold. Convincing him that it was just because of the shower and that he’d warm up proved completely fruitless, so in the end Osamu relented.

Looking at his brother now, Osamu could tell that the worst was yet to come. Again, it was just a gut feeling. It set him on edge and kept his shoulders tight by his ears.

When Miya-san came to check on them, Osamu apologized, and though it meant showing his concern for his idiotic brother, asked her if he could skip their chores for the rest of the day and hang out in their room to keep an eye on Atsumu.

(Their mother was the one person they couldn’t lie to; she’d see past their proud facades and break them down with her eyes until they relented and told her what was really happening. Eventually, they stopped trying to lie to her.)

She agreed easily and told him she would run out to the store to prepare for the worst case scenario (see: Atsumu being a whiny little pissant). Osamu shouldn’t have been surprised that she believed him about his weird gut feeling. Thinking back on it, the two twins always knew when something was wrong with the other.

Miya-san left and Osamu took one last look at his brother sleeping on the top bunk before settling on the floor in front of his own bed. He grabbed an X-Box remote and turned on some game he’s played a thousand times, the volume low, and waited for the other shoe to drop.

[angeltrapz]

SAW ASK!!!!!! 💞 n ee wayz as far as Eric/Adam goes i wld love to hear yr thoughts on how their relationship looks @ th very beginning when Eric still v v fresh in his recovery (obvs we’ve talked a lil abt this both but expandin on stuff), n also u mentioned Eric knowing how to bake (at least some things) n id LOVE to hear more abt that!! also for a general SAW polycule question, just bc it’s a dynamic i don’t think either of us have rlly touched on, thoughts on William + Mallick?

SAW ASK!!! (tysm!! <3)

okay so Eric/Adam:

I rly like th idea u had where they meet at one of Bobby’s groups (also throwing in tht I think abt Group Therapy All The Time) bc like. neither of them want to be there, neither of them rly have much in common w any other survivors, n neither of them can stand Bobby Dagen. so tht’s still like, th foundation fr how these 2 meet to me lol. the idea of them listening 2 him talk while rolling their eyes at each other n fake gagging is So Good.

I feel like Adam is just... rly open? w Eric? bc god does he understand how fucking hard it is 2 be around ppl after smth like that - maybe not to the same extent (though they DO have tht solidarity), but like. there’s only so many times u can hear “I’m so sorry tht happened/I can only imagine what u went thru” b4 yr ready 2 just tell ppl to shut the fuck up. so like, on Eric’s side of things, not getting tht frm Adam? not hearing the whole “I’m rly sorry u almost lost yr son and were locked up fr six months”? tht’s foreign territory ENTIRELY 2 him. sorry is all anyone has to say, even other survivors. Adam not saying sorry n instead being like “well I’m glad yr still around” is kind of what makes tht decision in Eric’s head like, yes, I think I want 2 get to know this dude. He Gets It.

n Adam is just patient too. letting Eric come 2 him, making sure he knows he’s there, tht sorta thing, bc regardless of how much he likes Adam, being around ppl again is not smth he can just jump into. it’s a wound tht is still raw n open n aching n he needs to treat it w care instead of rubbing salt in. n Eric half expects tht to turn Adam away, esp when he sometimes goes a day w no communication, but it doesn’t n he’s just sorta like ??? bc Eric never rly... saw some1 making tht kind of accommodation fr him, never expected some1 to understand it. tht’s another region I feel they’re very similar in - contact, sometimes, can b very very hard, even over text. if they don’t speak all day, tht’s okay - they send each other “i’m okay” texts n th other person responds w “good” n tht’s fine. Adam provides compromises when Eric never even knew tht was a possibility. it’s good.

things progress kinda slowly but not in a bad way. they’re just kind of getting used 2 each other - both of them have been alone fr so long, having some1 in their lives tht they give a shit abt n who gives a shit abt them is smth they’re both navigating. fr Eric, it’s being around some1 consistently after his trap. fr Adam, it’s actually having a friend who doesn’t make him feel like shit + having some1 he can definitively say is there. sometimes its easier 2 sit in comfortable silence than it is to force a convo neither of thm rly have the energy fr. sometimes just being in a room together is enough. tht’s smth they both notice - tht it’s like. they find it easy 2 be around each other. which is SO foreign to both of thm so they’re just kinda feelin it out?

n again like u’ve written b4, I also feel one of th turning points is when Eric calls Adam abt his hair + Adam shaves it fr him in his bathroom. tht’s th point where they’re both like “oh, I rly care abt this person.” bc it’s three in th fucking morning, Adam didn’t even have 2 pick up his phone or even answer when he saw it was Eric. but he did, bc he cares, bc he wants to help, n Adam’s just kinda freaking out internally too bc it’s been a looong time since he’s felt tht way abt some1 - he just wants Eric 2 be okay. n it’s then tht he’s kinda like, coming 2 terms w th fact that he truly cares abt someone who he can say without a doubt cares abt him too and it’s just like. oof. ESP when Eric sleeps over bc again, it’s early as fuck, and isn’t it so much easier 2 just have him stay? isn’t it easier fr Adam to make space fr Eric in his bed n home n heart? n Eric actually doesn’t tell Adam abt this later, but tht night he sleeps over after Adam shaves his hair? it’s th best he’s slept in fucking weeks.

I feel like after tht they’re a LOT more comfortable w each other - not tht they weren’t b4; I mean in th sense tht when they’re not doing too great, they’ll reach out 2 each other rather than bottling it up n dealing w it alone. Adam comes over w CDs he likes bc he can’t talk abt it but he doesn’t want 2 be by himself n they sit in Eric’s living room together in comfortable silence. sometimes Eric sings 2 him. they both find tht it helps. Eric becomes more accustomed 2 accepting help when he knows he needs it + Adam offers - dimming th lights n staying close by to keep him frm getting another migraine, having th TV on but w the sound down low enough tht it doesn’t feel like some1′s hitting him over th head w too-loud dialogue, getting things fr him on th days tht his nerve pain flares up n he’s mostly confined 2 his bed. they’re there fr each other. this is what friendship looks like fr them, two Jigsaw survivors who understand each other better than any1 else ever could.

another huge step fr them is like, th first time Adam offers 2 help w Eric’s rashes. I feel like, even as they grow closer, tht’s still not smth he’s vocal abt/comfortable showing often, something he’s ashamed of bc he feels like it’s gross n he doesn’t want 2 like. make Adam deal w that. but like during one of their sleepovers where Adam cuts his hair fr him n Eric’s got his shirt off he just. grabs the ointment he knows Eric keeps in th cabinet above the sink n while Eric’s still sitting w his back to him, he wordlessly begins tending 2 the rash spread along Eric’s shoulders n his neck n back, n Eric just. freezes. Adam doesn’t say anything, just does it fr him, n Eric kinda. Breaks Down a lil bit. like he just starts silently sobbing bc Adam doesn’t have 2 do this. he doesn’t have to help him w one of th things Eric hates most abt his own body. he could think it’s Gross. but he doesn’t think it’s gross n he doesn’t mind touching it and he’s so gentle when applying the ointment n then when he’s done he just kind of leans against Eric’s back bc He Knows. he reaches around front n grabs one of Eric’s hands n just sits there w him while he cries it out, holding his hand 2 say I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, n that is MAJOR fr Eric. and honestly? tht’s kind of th first time he Rly becomes aware of “oh fuck I love him.” (Adam too, ngl)

basically, the way it starts is a shared experience, smth no one else can rly say they have, an understanding based on tht shared experience. giving each other space until they begin inviting each other in. care, patience, “I’m here.” re-learning th feeling of mutual concern. somewhere along th way, it turns into love, and somehow falling into tht is just as easy.

-

Eric + baking:

YES I love this hc!! this is smth he picked up during his time btwn jobs during th earlier stages of recovery (but After meeting Adam/connecting w Art) bc he needed smth to do n was just sorta like, “well I guess this works huh?” n like. it was def a learning curve bc Eric can cook, relatively well/at least okay, but baking is a entirely different matter. at frst he was kinda discouraged when things didn’t turn out th way he hoped they would, but w gentle guidance on Art’s side n enthusiastic encouragement frm Adam, he stuck w it n has gotten pretty good as a result!! his fave things 2 make r peanut butter cookies (he does a little design on th top w a fork n both Adam + Art r like Oh My God That’s Adorable) + th aforementioned carrot cake cupcakes!! frosting is usually homemade n it’s usually cream cheese! he makes his own frosting fr cakes n stuff too (Constantly has 2 tell Adam to “keep yr hands off of th frosting/batter/dough! we’re not gonna have any left!!!” even tho tht Doesn’t stop him).

he makes rly good banana bread too! tht one was a lil harder 2 learn but he’s honestly pretty proud of it now. it’s so funny bc Adam typically doesn’t like stuff like tht but if Eric made it? oh it’s Amazing. (he’s like tht w Art’s cooking too kjdfhjs partially bc he is a Disaster in th kitchen, but also bc That’s His BF/Best Friend!!!)

if some1 is feeling particularly shitty he takes requests (Adam usually wants brownies + Art is partial 2 peanut butter cookies but w chocolate chips too) n it’s just a nice lil thing he can do 2 help, which is smth he Always wants to do. he also stress bakes tho so sometimes his bfs have 2 just kinda like check in n make sure he’s doing okay. but! yeah baking is smth he enjoys + is relatively good at!!

-

William/Mallick dynamic:

yr right I haven’t thought abt this dynamic much but I Am Now!!!

I feel like at his core, William is def a caretaker. Mallick, 2 me, is someone who is just wholly unfamiliar w being cared for. so like, at the Very Least, they’re both dating Adam + Lawrence, right? they spend a lot of time around each other. plenty enough time fr William 2 pick up on this. it just kinda. makes his heart hurt, bc he sees the unease in Mallick’s eyes every time one of thm performs even th smallest acts of kindness fr him - not bc he doesn’t appreciate it/doesn’t want it, but because it’s more that he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. n William Sees That and is just like. I Need U To Know You’re Loved.

they’re comfortable w each other, of course they are! they’re friends, good friends, who happen 2 be dating th same people! who go to bed together at night n wake up w each other in th morning. it’s love, they know tht, but Mallick still always looks so surprised when William makes waffles fr him fr breakfast. William cares.

n Mallick can kinda feel it, and he’s not resistant 2 it, but he’s definitely on edge abt it a little. but William also just has this air abt him that Mallick finds it hard to stay keyed up in, so it doesn’t rly take long fr Mallick to at least be at peace w William’s attention. but the moment he starts to really fathom it is during one of those days he can’t get himself 2 relax n is just shaking out on the couch, knees drawn up to his chest n his arm wrapped around thm, just kinda staring down at th carpet n just Not having the energy to get himself out of his own head. Lawrence + Adam r at work n Eric is taking a quick nap so it’s just Mallick n William.

so Mallick is sitting there spiraling n his breaths r coming out a little fast n William just sits down beside him, a mug of warm tea tht he sets down on th coffee table fr a moment, n he just rests a hand on Mallick’s shoulder. doesn’t say anything, just sort of like. offers tht bridge, opens tht avenue. n Mallick is like This Close to just breaking entirely, but what rly does it is when William just swipes his thumb over his shoulder n squeezes. n Mallick rly DOES break down, almost ugly-sobbing and wheezing, n somehow he ends up w his face in William’s neck, pretty much curled into his side, n tht’s when it truly hits him how much William cares abt him too. tht there are Several People who hold tht kind of room fr him in their hearts n lives. William didn’t even have 2 say anything fr Mallick to understand that, to know it as truth. n tht’s like, one of th events tht actually leads Mallick to building up tht self-esteem, knowing that.

n after tht happens, Mallick is a little less reluctant abt accepting William’s (+ everyone else’s!) help, at least some of the time. like Mallick will catch himself digging his fingers a lil too harshly into th stump of his arm (I’m w u on 10 Pints resulting in at least a partial amputation - like what was tht little scar in 3D???) n then he’ll feel William’s hand cover his n gently curl around his palm 2 be like “I’m not gonna say anything, but I see you, it’s okay,” n his grip relaxes. Eric will notice he’s working himself up too much n he’ll reach out n take one of his hands while he’s pacing + laces their fingers together so tht Mallick has to pause a moment n then he’s able to breathe. Lawrence stumbles across him in th midst of a panic attack n Mallick finds himself breathing easier when Lawrence takes one of his hands, places it over his chest + his heart, n breathes w him. Adam holds him when he jolts awake frm a nightmare. lil things like tht.

one of their fave things to help them both de-stress is they’ll lay in bed n William will read out loud to Mallick, who has his head on his chest n is listening but doesn’t have to put too much energy into keeping up, bc it’s mostly abt being close + having smth to fill the silence tht neither of them feel particularly comfortable in anymore. sometimes Mallick falls asleep n it honestly makes William rly happy bc not only is Mallick relaxed enough to actually close his eyes, he also trusts William enough to fall asleep around him, trusts him during a time he’s at his most vulnerable. it’s not uncommon fr Lawrence to get home frm work to find th two of them curled up against th pillows, sometimes both asleep or just Mallick while William continues reading silently and brushes his fingers thru Mallick’s hair. Adam def has a pic of them like tht somewhere, hung up on th cork board Art had bought specifically fr those kinds of photos. it’s smth easy tht doesn’t really require much energy + has the added bonus of just being close to n held by someone u love n who loves u.

and they help each other. sometimes William has a rly hard time looking at himself, the days where his guilt sits heavy in his chest n doesn’t seem 2 want to anywhere, n Mallick will just sit w him outside on th porch swing and just Be There bc it’s like. “I’m here, I want to b here, Jigsaw was wrong, you are not a terrible person, u did what u could w what u had and I love you,” in a single action. I think William also struggles, like u’ve mentioned tht Eric does, w th guilt of what happened + feeling like it was his fault. so Mallick sitting w him, their shoulders brushing, fr William it’s like, if he was truly as awful a person as John seemed 2 think he was, wld Mallick be this close? wld Mallick willingly lay down beside him some nights n kiss him good morning? wld he kiss him again on th cheek after he makes a fresh pot of coffee + pancakes? n William knows tht Mallick wouldn’t keep himself so close if John was right, so it’s like. proof of tht. n tht means a lot to William. sometimes tht’s all he needs.

they don’t have 2 deal w their struggles alone. they’re both surrounded by ppl who love them n want to see them do well - it’s only natural they feel tht way abt each other, too.

[inosuketingz]

the sheets are stained with blood [p.1]

( gif not mine )

[ PART ONE ] PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR Victor Zsasz x fem!Reader Warning: Some swearing and mentions of violence. Spoilers for Birds of Prey Word Count: 1482 Summary: Zsasz survives the ending of BoP and somehow snaps even further after finding out what happened to Roman. Desperate to find a new obsession, he latches on to the reader while meeting her on a heist. A/N; Thought about this after watching BoP and decided to write it for my new tumblr acc. Also posted on my Ao3. Its gonna get smutty in future parts of course but this first part is quite mundane lol. Future parts will also feature some Helena x reader bc I’m a whore for Helena Bertinelli. Reader is a witch-y metahuman and is a part of Wonder Woman’s rogue gallery.

The TV plays the latest news report as you stuff a spoon of cereal into your mouth. The reporter stands in front of some nightclub near the city reporting on yet another death by stabbing.

"... she was found in the back alley of the nightclub last night, her body purposefully positioned in a life-like stance. Due to CCTV evidence from the previous stabbing murder, the Gotham police are suspecting ex-businessman Victor Zsasz to be the wicked man behind these crimes..." An image transitions onto the screen, showing a low quality image of a man with almost paper white hair and dark bags under his eyes. The reporter continues to drone on about the twisted results from the autopsy report.

"Yikes," you say to yourself before you grab the remote from the coffee table and switch to another channel playing reruns of Martin

You came to Gotham a few months back since Wonder Woman never let you have any fun in Boston, even though she's currently stationed all the way in London. You assume you’ll be able to keep away from the Bat's radar while he’s busy dealing with psycho clowns and knife-wielding serial killers.

A soft ping rings from your phone and you glance at the screen. Shipment's called off is all the text on your lockscreen reads. It's from an unknown number, but you know that it's another henchmen of the crime boss you’re working with for the time being. Putting down the bowl of cereal, you pick the cell up and tap in three letters before pressing send: Why.

It only takes a moment for you to get a reply. Got reports of the Birds of Prey being in the area. Better safe than sorry.

“Fuck,” you curse and throw your head back in anguish. You were relying on the cash you’d get from the heist for rent.

The phone dinged again. Meeting at the mansion to re-work the plan. In an hour, be there on time bruja, the new message reads.

Great. You thought all you were going to to tonight was show up at the docks, use your powers a bit, and run off with your share of the money. But no. God forbid you get your way for once.

With an annoyed groan, you force yourself off the couch and into your bedroom. You kick off your plaid pajama jogger as you push open the door. Your closet is over piled with clothes and you immediately regret not picking out an outfit earlier. You are a strong believer of wearing revealing outfits for yourself, and the amount of bodycon dresses you want to wear was overwhelming. Then you remember it’s winter and inches of snow are already forming outside.

To be a hoe or to care about your well-being. It is a conflicting life that you live.

~ ~ ~

You decided to go for a pair of black cargo pants and a turtleneck. The weather won this round. The mansion’s already filled as you park your car based on the amount of luxury vehicles filling the house's driveway. You hated working in big groups- it only led to problems. But, you’re down to do anything for the amount of checks you would be cashing with this entire heist.

Two burly men guard the front door of the mansion. One of them smirks as he watches you approach.

“Look, it’s the witch,” he tells the other and you roll your eyes. “Where’s your flying broom?” He teases.

“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter as you pass the two, pushing the heavy doors with a grunt.

The other guard laughs at your reply. “Careful, Hermione. It’s all fun and games until Wonder Woman comes and drags you out of Gotham.”

You don’t bother to look back as you retort “It’s all fun and games ‘til I cast a spell that leaves you two without your dicks tomorrow morning.” The silence as you continue down the dark hallway tells you they stopped smiling.

Are you actually going to bewitch their genitals away? No. But most people knew better than to assume you wouldn’t.

The corridor is dark, tinted red by the only source of light- an open set of doors leading into a grand meeting room. Expensive pottery and paintings lined against the walls of the mansion, all what you’d expect from Hernando del Rey.

Originally, you actually meant it when you decided to lay low in Gotham. You’d find a nice apartment, steal from the rich, and stay off the news until the end of time.

Then, you were contacted by Hernando del Rey, a Venezuelan crime boss straight out of a mob movie. Though you’re not necessarily a bad person- you define yourself as a chaotic neutral- you are dangerous. Del Rey wanted your powers, and you wanted the money- so here you are now.

You shove your hands into your pockets and swagger into the open doors. A group of about 20 people, men, women, and all those in between, sit at a long table. Some of the faces you recognize, either from previous meetings you’ve had with del Rey or from news reports.

One such face belongs to none other than Victor Zsasz. He immediately stands out from the others with his snowy hair and scruffy beard. He also looks like he hadn’t slept in days, so there’s that. Plus, ever since the CCTV recording of him at the last stabbing was leaked, his face is all you saw on the news.

His tired eyes watch you as you enter the room. You can’t tell if he’s giving you bedroom eyes or staring you down like a predator does a prey. Quite frankly, you aren’t in the mood to find out.

“My bruja!” del Rey, who made his seat at the end of the table, cheers when he sees your face. “The most important member of my team!”

You stretch your lips into an awkward smile “Hi.”

“Please take a seat.” Hernando motion towards the table. “Then we’ll begin.” You glance over in the direction of all the seated guests. Powers or not, way too many of them look like they wouldn’t mind killing you.

“I’m fine standing, thanks.”

Hernando shrugs and begins lecturing about the game plan with the new threat of the Birds of Prey. You only pay half of your attention, catching a few words here and there. You never listen carefully at times like this, since your job is usually to just show up, cast some hexes and head out.

“I didn’t know they let witches in on heists.” You look down and see Victor Zsasz in front of you. His head is leaning back, since he sits facing away from you. Now that you are closer to him, you can see his features more clearly. From the silver teen in his mouth, to his token scars that cover his body- the nastiest being one on his neck that you assume wasn’t given to him voluntarily.

You bend down slightly so you can whisper in his ear, “I didn’t know they let mass murderers in on them, either.” He scoffs and straightens his neck and you straighten your back.

“-Y/N and Victor Zsasz will be the ones going to Hyunwoo Kim’s estate tomorrow.”

Yikes.

“I’m sorry, why do I get put with him?” You confront the boss. “I don’t think our attributes really compliment each other, to be honest.”

Hernando del Rey sighs, like an annoyed parent dealing with a bratty child. “Zsasz will be doing all the work, Y/N. You’re only there to make sure he doesn’t act out. If he does, just use your brujeria to kill him.”

The inside of your cheek starts to bleed due to how hard you bite it to refrain from arguing any further. You’ve never seen del Rey angry and you want to make sure to keep it that way.

From the corner of your eye you see Zsasz is back to looking at you. The wicked smile he wears tells you that this wouldn’t be any good.

~ ~ ~

A tired sigh leaves your mouth as you enter your apartment. The lights are off, just like you left it. It’s pitch black, leaving you blind against the darkness.

You begin to take off your pair of pumps when you notice the energy is off in here. The voice in your head yells that you are not alone. Immediately, you begin to mumble a Haitian spell you learned while in Port-au-Prince once summer- one that allows you to find a foe before they find you.

You’re not even halfway through the first line when a strong force pushes against you and your neck is pricked by a sharp object. Using your elbow, you hit the light switch.

The lights flicker on, revealing Victor Zsasz staring at you with the same look from earlier.

“Hello, witch.”

[shytiff]

Apr 2021 Wins

Started typing this on 4th apr lmaooo

1 - went to mcd. bought chicken + rice with the app promo. there’s a staff helping me on the order machine lol i feel badd there’s no need to do thatt. ate my lunchmade by mom at mcd’s muschola and went to sbux bcs its tumbler day. green tea latte w skim milk as usual. sent dr triya’s translation. ecmocard. started rereading goong (AGAIN. i probably have read it like 3 times minimum). still bring some feels

2 - its holiday today. spent almost the whole daylight rereading goong (turns out its pronounce ‘gung’ not ‘gong’ lol ive been wrong all this time) and finished it. the scene where they stare at each other, separated by the castle door, always gets me. got the old ipad charged (the screen are like 30% close to detaching and falling apart) and started AOT

3 - spent the whole day reading AOT. i like it when i have mini purposes in life (eg: finishing a manga series). AOT rly talks a lot about what do you want to do in life, the consequences of your choices and how you have to live with it. i felt triggered in a good way. the characters dont rly judge other’s choices, but they question them. discuss about it. give you some moral push. second gladi today. my vbg was still filpped hhhh. read aot until i felt sleepy and fell asleep. woke up very near subuh and prayed isya. my toxic trait is the horrible self care (and im talking bare minimum lol hehe lmao)

4 - finished aot. Asked irun about some aot explanations and she sent 5 paragraphs in one bubble. Slept. Flavola, kopsus coklat and somay. Also ate japota honey butter. Did 1 long input of ecmocard. Followed baepsae choreo. Moved my body a bit. Wow im not immediately sleeping. Amazing

5 - arrived at harkit 11-ish and went back about 1pm loll. super hungry when im arriving in kalideres. bought tahu colek worth 3000 (i wonder how the seller hears me through my 2 layers of mask), roti sisir and some ice cream in alfamidi. my fitlife protein powder ran out again. its my 2nd already. did some ecmocard, wasted my time after maghrib

6 - woke up late. did not have the mental strength to go to harkit so i decided to just stay home. bought sbux 1L green tea and macchiato. wasted the daylight and finally did some ecmocard in the evening,,,,

7 - off to harkit 7.30-ish pm in the rain. Took some data for ecmocard. Went to salemba to get tabung and surat bebas pustaka. Had breakfast slash lunch first, tried guudfuud (red rice, beef and omega egg). I like that the rice was not too much. Met up w ness ren and talked about isip dilemmas at sky. Afterwards went to flavola. Ordered mie rebus and roasted milk tea cause i somehow feel sooo hungry and in need of calories. It tasted so good, i was sitting in my usual seat facing the window, and the sky was a mixture of blue and grey. Brought croissant and sakura pocky at indomart. Ate the bread immediately after indomie. Went back home. Juan brought tahu gejrot that was delicious and crunchy. Internship files briefing by akis. Fell asleep

8 - woke up. Saw that dr retha was up for interview. Panicked. Thankfully it was at 12. I left home at 9:40 ish and arrived 11:50. Its a long ass way. Turns out i was interviewed with ka agassi. The doctors are so kind. They explained the gist of anesthesiology profession, and how its a choice you make, and its okay as long as you like what you do. Tried halo bowl for lunch. Sous vide chicken, rice, caesar sauce, beef bacon, and the deliciouss butter broccoli. Went back to kalideres and to starbucks. I only spent <2 hrs in there (a waste of money, i know). Bought decaf hazelnut latte (apparently the beans were kenyan something? Medium?) and butter croissant (need to cushion my stomach). Did GCP certification and sent it to the ever so kind mba Ai. Still got energy from the caffeine, did some ecmocard, read quran, read.... Toji fanfic 🤦‍♀️

9 - went to rsf w mom. We took the wrong way and had to take the long way but thank god theres still time to spare. Met dr rara. Some briefing. Went to rscm w agassi, submitted files for ijazah, went back to RSF. Girlll the cost of transport. MRT: 12K. Grab: 16-17k. Thats one way trip. Bought food at rsf canteen. Eocru briefing by the research coordinator. Ward tour w dr retha. Snacked on ovaltine provided by mba ai. Went home after maghrib by tj. Liqo along the way. Glad bersih (came late). Drank macchiato for some strength but still fell asleep quickly.i shouldnt have laid down

10 - kebakaran jenggot in the morning due to green screen positioning. Finally got the appropriate setup (after many fabric tries and cutting my mukena) at 08:30. Finished showering 08:45. Zoom was opened at 9 lmao. Somehow finished before 09:30. Zoompah w mom and dad along side me. After its ovee, some "photoshoot" w fam. At this point i was truly rly sleepy. Took of my makeup. Changed my clothes. And then racil silv dev showed up lol. I got gifts c: and then atikah came. And then i redid my makeup, this time with the help of friends to create fantastic eye make up look (which i can never pull off). Eyebrows by sil, eyeshadow and liner by cheldev lol. Took some photos. Dajen came. Talked. Videocalled w pupuy. A surprise gift from fianti came. And then chel dajen went back at 8. Still cant sleep. Slept at like 11-12

11 - lazed. Woke up, ate pizza (mom bought 2 of phd's 1m pizza) and bakwan, slept again. Matcha latte and ecmocard. Watched a bit of 2nd sinau

12 - off to rsf at 06:20. Arrived 07:15 ish. Lunch was ayam penyet accompanied by snacks that mba ai bought. Off to harkit at 14:05 (bcs my laptop somehow shut down and i lost all the unsubmitted data). And then off to kalideres at 15:30 ish to meet up w clara and search for clothes for almira's wedding. Went to lippo bcs clar saw this dress that kinda looks like the brokat given. We ate at ramen ya. It doesnt rly make you feel full, the filliny sensation was kinda like indomie. Saw that the dress looked different. Ate 1 boba pancake together at banban. Continued on to the tailor in kebon jeruk. The location was in an alley, and it was raining lol. Quoting clara: "the unnecessary struggles". The tailor was quite helpful (and she looks experienced). Arrived at clara's at 8 ish. Picked up by mom with car (it was raining) and arrived at abt 9. Hurriedly showered and tarawih and tidied up AND ITS ONLY 09:45. Its crazy how efficient one use time (and at the same time, how wasteful one can be)

13 - first day of fasting. The morning was spent taking samples. I stupidly took a sample thats not yet labeled im sorry :(((( i felt kinda tired and wanted to give up this. Give up anesthesia. Went back home at 14:00 and its cloudy. The bus was the nicer types and it was COLD. Read quran along the way. Picked up by juan. Opened laptop. And then its iftar time. I was sooo sleey and the tarawih was so long thst i closed my eyes along the way. Fianti called after tarawih, we talked til abt 21:30. And then i fell asleep

14 - went to rscm. Submitted serkom files. Met dr dyah and i hope we could somehow meet her again if we study in fkui again aamiin. Went to rsf by mrt. Arrived in lebak bulus just before it was raining. The bus took a while to arrive (usually theyre there, waiting). Its still raining like crazy so i took grabcar to AR from pesakih (39k). Played with my phone til iftar. Played phone again after tarawih and fell asleep

15 - i felt rlyy lazy and cant bring myself to wake up. Off to rsf at 07:15. There were coordinator ppl. Took sample. It was raining when i went back but i took grabbike from kalideres. Wasted my time and did not do ecmocard

16 - sampling. Snacked on keripik pisang at the room. Went back early at 13:15 ish. Picked up by juan. Sleeeept (and this is before the nightmareish mistake began)

17 - i did a mistake by telling dr retha (who took the sample today) the wrong patient (it switched in my unreliable memory. I feel terrible. Thank god shes quite chill abt it (?). Read jujutsu kaiseeen. Went to flavola. Did 1 ecmocard. Went to bandar jakarta baywalk by motorbike. Spent 135k and was quite full with many varieties. Arrived home at about 20:50. Turns out juan also had bukber with his friends. Phone call with fiiii, talked abt dimrob

18 - lazed all day, read jjk, finished my part of ecmocard (gave genky to ekal cause i was a dumbass at getting data). Ate mom's mentai rice, siomay. Drank green tea latte. Read jjk til 145 (mentok) at night. Proceeds to consume all things jjk lmaoo

19 - we took sooo long to get samples. Finished at 13:00. Went to rm with dr rara. Went back home. Watched the third sinau. Read the IMMACULATE jjk fics by celestialmechanics im IN LOVEEEE with the way s/he writes ughhhh

20 - samples took faster than usual. Mba ai did not came today. Went to RM and did some work there. Off to AR by 15:00. Arrived close to maghrib. Did not do any work afterwards lmao. Did not even wash my face

21 - magang as usual. Note to self: sit on the right side of the bus. Did nothing yesterday. Felt like shit after tarawih (but i showered before maghrib!!)

22 - todays problem was the swab sample not being there even though the staff allegedly already took it. Huft. Took a shower and out on vitacid (i cant remember the kast time i put on vitacid 😳 its probably been... a week or two?

23 - samples finished quite quickly. Already going home at 12. Lazedddd and lazed and lazed. Waited for emir to pick me up so i went to dm. Read an immaculate itadori x megumi fix thats just full of feels. Started demon slayer lets see

24 - literally just laid in bed reading manga and seeing tiktok and slept again and suddenly its 1 am. Showered. Still in a lazy mode. Havent begun clires work. Watched leah's vlog that said "go do things youve been putting off!". Finally finished the third and last video of Sinau Yuk ICU class with dr. Zeta, SpAn lolll even though the actual last class was on 7th apr. iftar was fish and chips and salad yuum

25 - woke up at like 1am since i slept too much yesterday. Ate tan ek tjoan bread and drank sbux matcha latte. Did some intern work. Read a bit of quran. Sahur. Cant even sleep again so i showered. Off with mom and dad (09:30) since dad’s going to get vaccinated at skk migas. Mom drove me to ara’s place (11:00). Talked a bit and even read quran again there. Off to GI (13:00) to meet up w regen. Walked around. Bought a discounted TBS green tea facial wash. Went back home by TJ (16:00). the bus station is a bit closer now. Arrived home close to maghrib (17:30). hurriedly showered and went to sleep (properly) after tarawih. A good good sleep since i got 9400 steps today and that tired me out lmaooo (bare minimum yall, i know). 

26 - woke up still sleepy. Slept again after iftar and woke up at 07:30. Skipped shower and off to RSF lmao. Went to medical record. Walked to the front of RSF originally planning to go to lebak bulus by angkot but i saw none. So i went through mrt instead. Stopped by at kebon jeruk and walked 800 meter (that tireeed me and made me feel parched under the sun) to risma busana for clothes fitting. Took gojek to jembatan gantung (turns out the closer halte to flyover was taman kota). Iftar was chicken noodle and risol and banana and i felt fullll and i slept

27 - today is off day since im alternating with agassi. read quran. watched shadow and bone (with 1,5x speed except for kanej and matthias nina scenes). didnt rly do any magang work except the table asked by dr retha. i feel like usually im operating on 70%. sleeping more doesnt rly add that. i need caffeine or physical activity. before i know it, its close to iftar.

28 - i ((felt)) like i had a decent amount of energy today. shouldve done some work between sahur and leaving the house but i ended up reading vampire knight lmaoooo the scenes had no business bringing so much butterflies. sampling together w agassi. mba ai didnt come in today. after agassi left did some magang work. i also went to RM to ask for more RM to bu dian. took angkot to lebak bulus for the first time. paid 5k. i had no idea which angkot went to lebak bulus and the driver (somehow knowing the right words to say) said “lebak bulus lebak bulus”. didnt read much quran on the way back. i just close my eyes and relaxed. felt kinda low on sugar. watched more shadow and bone on the way back and at home until close to iftar. didnt do anything after tarawih. slept hoping i woke up early (which i did, at 3am. but i slept again)

29 - im supposed to have ample energy but i just stuck around my bed until its time to get ready to go. read some kanej fic lol. I dont rly do anything productive after arriving home

30 - made intern log, magang as usual. Did not go to rm. Finished watching shadow and bone. Rested bcs tomorrow's saturdayyy

[nadisabug]

Fictober 2019-Day 11

Title: Alone pt. 2

Prompt number: 11 "It's not always like this." Fandom: Danganronpa (SDR2) AU: post-simulation (note: not apart of the fictober-sdr2 series I am doing, this is separate bc I have been doing so much angst and I need a break) Rating: T (teen) Warnings: slight panic attack and another nightmare Tags: SuperDanganronpa2, Komahina A/N: Okay so this is late too, but its long. very long. so yay!! this is a part 2 for day 8 (had to look it up lol) bc i can’t leave my gaybies hanging :,) i will catch up though, one way or another!! 

EDIT: links to part one and three

***

Waking up was awkward. Nagito was an early riser, much to his dismay, but that next morning Nagito did not wake up first.

He woke up slowly, the foreign, fuzzy feeling of knowing he had slept too long, but still couldn't bring himself to wake up. He felt the light shining from behind his closed eyelids, but thought nothing of it, nuzzling deeper into his cocoon to block it out. After he moved, he felt the arms around him shift and gently shake his shoulders. A husky voice accompanied the motion.

"Nagito, I need to go."

Nagito felt the memories of last night hit him like a truck. A truck that then threw it in reverse and ran him over again when he realized that he was laying on Hinata's chest, curled and wrapped around him.

Nagito shot up, pushing on Hinata's chest to sit up, and then attempting to scoot away from the other boy as fast as he could. The quick motion sent his head spinning, and black dots danced in his vision.

Hinata reached out and grabbed Nagito's shoulders, steadying him. Hinata looked worried, his brow creased and mouth turned down. Oh god, he's upset with me, its my fault he hates me he wants to leave-

"I am so sorry," Hinata began talking, cutting Nagito's thoughts off before he could vocalize them. "I was worried about waking you up. I really didn't want to, but I really need to go. So I thought about sneaking out but..." Hinata sucked in a breath. Nagito felt Hinata's thumbs rub circles into his shoulders, and Nagito released the tension in them. "I... did not want you to wake up alone."

Hinata studied Nagito's face. Nagito wasn't sure what he saw, but he knew he had to at least be blushing.

"I am sorry if I scared you," Hinata offered after the silence became unbearable.

He thinks I'm... Does he not even realize how we woke up? That we were... he doesn't... oh my god has he always been this dense?

Nagito forced a small smile. "No, it's okay, I'm actually very thankful that you spent so much time on someone like me."

Hinata frowned. "Of course I would spend time on someone like you. Seeing as you are worth it and not trash."

"You don't have-"

"Yes I do," Hinata interrupted sternly. "Seeing as you don't believe it yourself." He paused and looked over at the clock. "Shit, I got to go." He looked back at Nagito. "Are you going to be okay?" He reached over and tucked a part of Nagito's hair behind his ear.

Nagito stopped breathing for what felt like minutes. His face burned, and he looked away, unable to look at Hinata anymore.

Nagito mumbled something like "mhm" and nodded slightly. Hinata apparently took that as a yes, as he let go of Nagito's shoulders and threw the covers off of himself. He hopped out of the bed and padded over to the door.

"Okay, great. See you tonight!" With that, Hajime was out the door.

See you tonight? Do we have a meeting tonight? Nagito mused as he wormed his way back into the covers. He tried to get comfortable, but couldn't seem to manage it. The bed was starting to feel cold, merely an echo of the warmth Hinata provided remained. Nagito sighed as he flailed in his bed. He curled into a tight ball and squeezed his eyes shut.

He wasn't going back to sleep. He was already too awake. Nagito spread out on the bed, taking up the full twin mattress. Maybe I can just lay here until I need to get up. Hinata has stuff to do, but I don't. If I did, I would mess it up anyway. I mean, I could go to breakfast...

Nagito's stomach grumbled. Then he thought about Hinata, sitting down at the table, peers talking to him, him smiling, and the Hinata looking over at Nagito and-

He wasn't sure what would happen next, but he was sure that he stomach immediately felt uneasy and eating became the last thing on his mind. He couldn't see Hinata so soon after they...

Nagito made up his mind to lay in his bed for the rest of the day.

He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, content on disassociating for the rest of all time. He heaved another large sigh, breathing into the pillow. Something just felt so calming and-

The bed smelled like Hinata.

Nagito got out of bed, deciding maybe lying in bed wasn't the best of ideas.

----------

Nagito hovered outside of his door. The day came and went and now it was time for his least favorite part of the day. Sleeping. Because that meant dreaming and Nagito did not want to dream.

He thought about how nice it had been to sleep with... how nice it had been to not be alone. His mind couldn't bear to finish that thought, but he could recognize that waking up alone from his night terrors had not been particularly enjoyable.

But Hinata was currently in a meeting with Kuzuryu, Pekoyama (of course, they were inseparable after they woke up), Nidai, and a few others discussing the creation of a patrol. So he was busy.

Even though what they were doing was so full of hope, Nagito felt himself getting upset. It wasn't like him.

It wasn't that he didn't want them to do all that, it was just... he didn't want Hinata to have to be there. It was so late, and he had to take care of everything all the time. Nagito thought he needed a break.

The more selfish side of Nagito knew the real reason why Hinata being tied up bothered him so much.

Nagito opened the door and began to get ready for bed. He didn't feel exhausted as usual, probably since last night he was able to actually sleep. After Nagito usually wakes up from a terror like that, sleep afterwards was a moot point. He was never able to.

He slipped into a nightshirt and old sweatpants and laid down in his bed. He didn't want to go to sleep just yet, so he began reading a book that was next to the bedside table. He did his best to focus, but after a while he felt himself drifting off again.

Flashes of red splashed across his vision. People were screaming, dying, burning, and Nagito was the one doing it. He felt a heavy weight around his neck. A collar. A chain. People were screaming. Explosions shook his body and he almost fell. He was running. No, he was standing. Watching the school burn down as students were trying to escape. They were screaming.

No, he was screaming.

"Nagito! Wake up!" A worried voice cut through the noise, and Nagito felt his voice crack. He was sitting up, someone clutching his shoulders. He opened his eyes but all he could see was Hinata.

"I killed them," Nagito hiccuped and sobbed. "I killed them I blew them all up I killed everyone I killed you I killed you-"

"Hey!" Hinata caught Nagito's face and held him firm with one hand, the other still supporting Nagito's torso. "Everyone is okay, you didn't do anything. I am here, I am alive, see?"

"No, no, no," Nagito chanted, shaking his head. He tried to wiggle out of Hinata's grasp, but he was far too weak and delirious. "I killed you, I did it, I killed you, you're dead and it's all my fault!" Nagito voice was low and hoarse from his screams, but as he bit out those words, it felt like they were twenty times as loud.

Hinata let go of Nagito's shoulder and snatched his hand. He pulled it to himself, still cradling Nagito's cheek with his right hand, and placed it over his chest. "Nagito, I am here. I am right here, you can feel my heart. Do you feel it?"

"No, no, it's my fault-"

"Nagito!" Hajime let go of Nagito's face as Nagito tried to shake him off. He used it to hold Nagito's hand in place, wrapping around his wrist. "Do you feel my heartbeat? Focus on feeling it. What does it feel like?"

Nagito broke eye contact with Hinata and looked down at his chest. Hinata was pressing Nagito's only hand onto his own chest, his hand wrapped around Nagito's wrist. Nagito focused on the heat radiating from Hinata, how it warmed his clammy fingers. As he focused in on his hand he began to feel it. The quick beating, the steady thrum. Loud and so very there.

"Fast..." Nagito finally mumbled.

Hinata chuckled. "You gave me quite a scare." He paused, then continued, more sober. "You were screaming." Hinata shook his head, thinking better of that line of questioning. "Keep going."

"Strong."

"Alright, see?" Hinata let go of Nagito's wrist, letting his other hand fall into his lap as well, and reached for his cheek again. He tilted Nagitos head up and wiped tears that Nagito did not know he shed off with his thumb. Hinata was smiling, face illuminated by the desk lamp Nagito had left on. He looked... ethereal. Nagito did not move his hand from Hinata's chest. He needed it there to be sure Hinata was alive. "I am here."

Nagito felt a ball of emotion claw its way up his throat. He swallowed it down and shut his eyes. Hinata was just too bright.

He took a moment and just breathed. Nagito wasn't sure how long he spent breathing, but the entire time, Hinata just waited.

After Nagito felt like he had composed himself enough, he began to apologize for everything. "Its... its not always like this... I am sorry you had to-"

"No." Hinata's voice was soft, but firm. "You will not apologize. I will not accept it. I am here because I want to be, Nagito."

"You are so very generous, as to be exp-"

"Nagito please," Hinata finally begged, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "For once believe me when I tell you you are worth it. That I am here for you and no one else, that I am not doing this just because I am nice or whatever crap you think, that I am doing this for you because it is you, and no one else, and you are worth it."

Nagito felt everything in him crack and splinter. He wanted so bad to do what Hinata asked, anything Hinata asked, but the idea felt so foreign and wrong. Nagito was trash, he was worthless and good for nothing and not even Hinata could change that.

Nagito clenched his hand, balling up Hinata's shirt in his fist. "I can't," he managed to say.

"Hey, hey, its okay. Can you believe that I think it?"

"Yes?" Nagito answered slowly, then added more rapidly. "I mean, its not always this bad, like I was saying, so you wont have to always come here and have to stay here. You won't have to come."

"Okay." Hinata paused, then pulled away a little bit. "Do... do you want me here?"

Nagito opened his eyes, curious as to what prompted the question. Hinata looked nervous or anxious, Nagito couldn't exactly tell.

"If... if I make you uncomfortable... or if you just want someone else..."

Oh god he thought...

"No!" Nagito said quickly. "No, I don't..." He looked down at his hand, balled in Hinata's shirt. "No one else will do."

"So," Hinata cleared his throat, prompting Nagito look up. Hinata was looking off to the side, towards the clock on the wall. Nagito thought he looked red, but couldn't exactly tell. "Can we use your room? Its cleaner than mine."

Nagito realized what he was talking about, and withdrew his hand from Hinata's shirt. Hinata dropped his hand from Nagito's face as well.

"Um, yeah."

"I'll try to get out of my meetings earlier, so I won't be out so late, but I can't get around my morning report to Naegi. I can probably convince him to push it back a bit, but it will still be early. Do you mind?"

"No." Nagito paused. He was asking if Nagito minded waking up early with him. Nagito didn’t want to wake up alone, and Hinata knew that and didn’t make him ask for it. He just... gave it to Nagito. "Thank you."

"Of course. I'm going to get changed, you want to lie down? You don't have to wait for me."

“I’ll wait,” Nagito responded immediately. He didn’t have to think about it, but Nagito did look at Hinata after that. He realized for the first time that he was fully clothed, including shoes. He must have just ran into the room.

Hinata nodded. He got up and walked to the door. Before he opened it, he paused and looked back at Nagito. "I will be right back."

Nagito nodded. He didn't believe in himself for anything, but if anything was for sure, it was Hajime Hinata.

And Hinata did come back. Each and every night.

[guardiandae]

Meta/Commentary Part 1: A Little ‘XO’ Wouldn’t Go Amiss

(Spoilers below)

Wade finally learned his roomie's real name on day two, when the proposed nickname of 'Priscilla' was rejected via stabbing.

"Y'know- I usually know a guy's name before I let him penetrate me," Wade joked, gritting through the pain.

"My name is Nathan Summers. You can call me Nate. Or you can shut your whore mouth."

I’m gonna say this right now so when I finally finish the sequel of this fic, nobody can cry foul or anything or pretend that I didn’t plan everything all along from the very start of this journey: There’s a reason why Nate stabbed Wade and it’s not just to be an edgelord. This fic starts written in Wade’s POV and then switches to Nate’s, and there is so much more info revealed from Nate’s perspective that changes how interactions are colored. In the sequel, it’s not written in that style but eventually you will understand Nate’s POV and be able to look back on this (and other moments) and be like, Ah. I spent a few months just agonizing over this fic planning. The levels of depth going on here, you don’t know.

Also it’s hilarious because, the movie never really establishes Cable’s real name so hi, it’s Nathan Summers. Scott Summers’ (Cyclops)’s son, but like... older than him because future and time traveling hijinks or whatever. This is only important because like, daddy issues.

-

technically they were even sleeping together, even if Nate slept in the only bedroom because he'd called dibs and Wade slept on the couch in a pile of fast food wrappers.

Denial.

Living with Nate was weird after living with Vanessa for so long. No more kisses -- not like he wanted any.

Denial!

-

Usually when Wade got home, Nate was never there.  Hours later when Nate did come back, he'd just go to bed. Other times, Wade was hired for jobs that took days of travel to complete. There was little interaction between them and they barely saw each other, so Wade took to leaving little notes behind.

[Went to get milk. And also to put a cap in someone's ass. He's a bad guy though, so don't worry. I'll be home late. xoxo] [Forgot the milk. Also didn't cap the guy so I didn't get paid. Can you pick some up while you're out? xoxo]

So much info in one little spot. Nate only sees them as roommates, as a living arrangement and tenuous partnership to serve as an end to both of their needs. Nate has a place to live, and his only responsibility, as we learn in his POV, is to pay the rent on Wade’s behalf, with Wade’s money, because Wade is a disaster and his memory is getting worse. Not only is Wade just an annoying person who can’t take anything seriously, in his incorrect opinion, but there’s that level of guilt for feeling like a freeloader when Nate is the kind of person who’s had to fight just to survive his entire life. Wade’s little notes are so sweet, but to Nate, 1. weird 2. is this a joke? 3. stop reminding me of how much you care and meanwhile i can barely bring myself to write a note back, aaaaaa

I need to remember to revive the note-leaving between them in the sequel. It’s too cute, I can’t stand it.

-

Mercenary jobs had become harder to come by, and then work dried up. It was almost like nobody wanted to pay a guy to kill people anymore. As if there could ever be a shortage of people in the world who needed to die. But when one door closes, another opens -- everywhere he went, he suddenly saw slews of missing persons flyers. Wade had never noticed how many there were before, but he took it as a sign. He'd always wanted to try his hand at being a P.I. and Wade hadn't realized that the market was booming with families desperate to find loved ones. He offered his services as a private dick to several different people, but every single case was unsolvable. It was like they'd just vanished into thin air, but he knew that wasn't possible. It was frustrating to realize he was such a lousy dick.

Spoilers, but this is when the Thanos snap happens, and Wade is completely oblivious. Could someone who can be so devastatingly observant really be so obtuse? Or is his mind just protecting itself from such an incomprehensible reality that everyone else is suddenly saddled with? These are things Nate wonders later as well. Even I don’t know for sure. (I haven’t watched End Game and there’s still more plotline to tackle during the Snap, don’t @ me about how Marvel did it, I don’t know and I don’t care, I have my own plans)  (By the way, characters will either be snapped or inexplicably alive, and that’s not a plot hole, that’s the joke. Welcome to Marvel, the writers never fucking make sense and I don’t have to either, YEET)

[Someone tried to sell a metal arm on the black market????!! It better be Bucky's and not yours. Not like I care.] [It was Bucky's.]

Rip Buckkyyyyyy lmaooo

But also, cryyyy because Nate is busy trying to help deal with absolute fucking chaos and he didn’t really stop to consider whether Wade would be wondering what happened to him. Ow. Yeah, I think Wade definitely subconsciously registered what happened and is in total denial of reality. It’s better that way. Nobody fucking tell him.

-

There was nothing that he hated more than being ignored. Might as well just talk to himself. Which he did a lot of lately.

Foreshadowing.

-

All of the warmth left his body at once, leaving him a little breathless and dizzy. He was vaguely aware of Nate looking at him, but it was less of a 'you're home' and more of a ' why are you here?'

This whole area of the fic hurts so good because I’m gay and I love drama.

Wade coming home, literally bleeding to death on the inside and in shock because, once again, everything went to shit for him, story of his life. And he sees Nate just there, dressed down, relaxed, and has this little flash of domestic happiness because he so desperately wishes that the domestic happiness was real and that Nate actually was waiting for him and happy to see him come home, and the hard snap back to reality where Nate doesn’t even like him is soooo fucking painful lol end me. And on top of that, he misread Nate’s concern as hate/disgust for him bc that’s what he’s used to, and then he passes out on the floor and wakes up with Nate over him because I’m gay and I love drama!!!!

-

"Wade, you died for a second," Nate told him. Wade couldn't quite tell if Nate was concerned for him or just annoyed. "I had to pull a piece of metal pipe from your chest. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I got a… pipe in my chest," Wade said, pausing for breath. His lungs felt wet and heavy. He should've left the pipe in.

"Very illuminating," Nate deadpanned, letting go. "Anything else I should know?"

This moment where Nate is so very fucking concerned for Wade, but then Wade cracks a weak joke, because that’s how he copes, and Nate is like, wow, fuck it, so much for being worried about you.

[[SCREAMS IN GAY.]]

-

These thoughts didn't feel like his own, even though they had his voice. His mind was always scattered, full of thoughts that flowed nonstop like a babbling brook. Sometimes it took a lot of conscious effort to reign himself in and make sense of his own head. But these just popped out of nowhere, in bold print, in boxes that were separate from everything else.

"Am I going nuts?" he wondered aloud, whispering to himself, because honestly, he was a little afraid of his own head right now.

(A little late to be asking that.)

And this is when the ‘boxes’ manifest for Wade. But in this fic, the voices that manifest in his head are his own intrusive, negative thoughts. The depression, the loneliness, the self-hatred, the belief and fear that Nate hates him too.

-

I’m gonna recap vs a full copy and paste because the next bit is long:

-Wade is coughing up blood clots from his lungs in the morning, or trying to. -Nate is disgusted but also sympathetic and offers to help Wade out. -A really layered conversation occurs.

“Maybe if I drown myself in the bathtub, the blood clots will rinse out. What d'you think?"

Wade’s exhausted. Joking, but also dead serious. Nate is concerned about Wade making such a dark joke, but he also can tell that Wade really is struggling.

“I’ll help you.”

“Really?” Wade is relieved Nate wants to help him, at first, but then remembers he just said he wanted to drown himself in a bathtub, and becomes disheartened again because he remembers Nate doesn’t like him. “Oh. Yeah.”

From Wade’s point of view: Nate just offered to help Wade kill himself, because of course someone would get a kick out of drowning him, he’s annoying, yadda yadda.

From Nate’s point of view: Wade isn’t okay and he offered to help him with his problem, because he sounds desperate and Nate doesn’t think that jokes will help Wade with his mental state, nor will the drowning actually do anything to solve the problem (the blood clots festering in his lungs).

"I bet you'd love to hold me down and watch me struggle," he said, still thinking about the drowning idea. Then, in a flirtatious tone, "I'll make it good for you, baby. Just promise me we'll do it face to face."

From Wade’s POV: He’s making a joke about Nate drowning him, but also making a sex joke to make it funny, to mock Nate if he really does want to drown Wade, so maybe he wouldn’t do it, or maybe it’d be weird and interesting.

From Nate’s POV: Wade is flirting with him, and his humor and still really dark and Nate really shouldn’t laugh at it or encourage that kind of thing.

From Wade’s POV, seeing Nate trying not smile: ah holy fuck he really wants to drown me.

"I don't want to watch you struggle," Nate said. If he did, he'd just leave Wade alone to keep coughing up blood.

"Ah. Consensual," Wade nodded. "Okay, well, I'd be open to some over-the-clothes stuff, and whatever happens while I'm still dead doesn't count."

Nate couldn't help but laugh. "I don't think we're having the same conversation."

Wade is continuing the joke, because from his POV he’s like, whelp, this might as well be what happens.

But they really aren’t having the same conversation. There’s more like, four different conversations happening at once. Wade’s very sincere idea of drowning himself as a solution to his problems, and Wade joking about Nate drowning him as a sexual innuendo.  Nate interpreting Wade’s dark humor as a shitty attempt at flirting that he neither wants to encourage nor outright shoot down, and Nate offering to give Wade a better solution to fix his actual problem.

And Nate’s solution is to use his telekinesis to just... remove all the shit from Wade’s lungs. But he didn’t communicate that idea with Wade before just doing it, even if he did ask permission, so that’s pretty shitty and hence why we had to add the ‘Nonconsensual Telekinetic Heimlich Maneuver’ tag. smh

"That was dubious at best and now we have to add a warning in the tags," Wade sighed. "Non-consensual telekinetic Heimlich maneuver…. This is problematic now. People aren't gonna click on this."

-

This is a good spot to stop for now and continue in another post.

[artificialqueens]

(I Can Still Recall) Our Last Summer - Chapter One (Group Fic) - pureCAMP

A/N - this is a re-upload bc it apparently disappeared! I hope everyone enjoys it this time lol, let’s pray it doesn’t go missing again

A/N 2 - Here’s the surprise that absolutely no one knew about! A prequel of sorts to HIGA, my Mamma Mia! au featuring trixya and shalaska which you can read here on AQ before this for context

As before, this was pre-written so the rest is ready to go. Let me know if weekly submissions are fine or if you would prefer anything sooner!

(dont lose hope shalaska stans bc chapter two is coming sooner than soon and it’s chock full - and did i mention 8.5k words)

“Sharon, are you ready to go yet? The deacon wanted us here early so you can help to mind the kids before the service!”

Sharon stared into the mirror at a face that didn’t feel like hers. It was free of makeup, the pallidity emphasising the dark circles beneath her eyes and her uneven skin tone. Her blonde hair was pulled back into one long plait, and not a single hair dared to break the strict mold she had been forced into, even from last night’s previous sexy curls. Even her clothes felt uncomfortable, the floral dress of her mother’s choosing hanging loosely from her frame.

Demure. Sensible. Her shoes were patent and shiny, with a thick rubber sole.

Sighing, Sharon started down the stairs. Just once more, she would’ve liked to have slept in a little on a Sunday, but that would never be. Missing church was a sin, and Sharon’s almost obsessively Catholic mother would never allow such a thing to happen in her household - even though it had before. For Sharon, it wasn’t worth the screaming. As she traipsed down the stairs, she ran her slender fingers along the many embellished crosses on the wall, serving as a reminder that she would never be good enough. Above her, the depiction of Jesus on the cross glared judgmentally at her.

I died for your sins, he seemed to be saying. I died on a cross for your sins, and you’re turning up to church hungover.

Everything Sharon spent her weekends doing, it seemed, was wrong or bad or sinful in some way. She knew drinking was against the rules. Her mother, practically Puritan in some of her opinions, insisted that the popular music of the time was sinful too, as was the dancing. Sharon knew her mother would have an aneurysm if she knew how her daughter had looked and behaved the night before; a vision in bright makeup and skin-tight sparkles, grinding against other dancers as she sang. The woman would have been seconds from a heart attack if she had seen Sharon just that morning, silently making her way up the stairs and frantically wiping all traces of sultry makeup and stage attire from her body. There hadn’t been any time to sleep or recover from her night of partying - not if she wanted to look presentable.

The skirt of Sharon’s dress reached just below her knees. She was the picture of a respectful Catholic girl.

“Ah, you look decent for once,” Her mother appraised her. “Not like that awful Gina. She’s about your age, isn’t she? What a dreadful girl.”

In Sharon’s mother’s eyes, Gina was dreadful mostly due to her clothes, which were scandalous as they dipped below her collarbones and above her knees. Sharon, however, had once caught her with a boy, and Gina had once caught Sharon performing on a weekend. They had a silent pact to never spill the other’s secret.

“Yeah…” Sharon murmured, her mind elsewhere.

Her mother paused. “Here. Don’t forget your cross, for goodness sake.” She placed the rosary around her daughter’s neck. “There. Now, remember, you’re helping out at Sunday school and then attending the service with me. And no complaining, not like last time. I raised you to be a good, God-fearing girl. Or else you know what.”

Sharon nodded meekly. “Of course.”

As they walked, Sharon’s mind wandered to her friends, yearning to get away. Raja, no doubt, was lying fast asleep on the island somewhere, curled around some naked guy with hickeys all over his neck. They’d been gyrating over each other all night, and Raja was never one to shy away from male attention. Jinkx would be asleep too, most likely with Dorito crumbs in her hair, drooling from her hangover, perhaps accompanied with some young woman tucked under her arm. And then there was Sharon, on her way to church.

It had been an incredible night, like always. Her outfit - safely tucked away in the taverna’s dressing room so that her mother would never stumble upon it - was everything she knew she wasn’t allowed, tight sequined lycra that clung to her body and was perfect for dancing in. Her makeup was dark and smokey, and her spirits were high, fuelled by the alcohol and the roaring of the crowd dancing beneath them. The Supermodels had been formed a year ago, and they’d amassed quite a following on the little island they performed on.

Would anyone’s opinion of her change if they could see her now? She was the star of their show, the main attraction; she was the one everyone lauded as the lead singer, the funniest, the favourite. Yet she was the one who caught the early morning boat across back to the mainland, hurrying to scrub her makeup off and dress herself up as a good daughter.

But that was just how things were. Despite Raja and Jinkx’s encouragement, she knew it was just going to stay that way.

It was inescapable, really. As she’d been told, ever since she was a child, Jesus was watching. Some unseen forces had their eyes on her, judging her every move. Despite her lack of belief, the threat was real enough to force her into keeping up pretenses, much to her friends’ dismay. But she couldn’t help it. Disappointing her mother only ever ended in disaster.

-

Sharon wasn’t sure what she disliked more, in all honesty - the chilling silence that hung around the pews in the church or the ungodly screaming of the children at the Sunday school. The actual leader of the group had fucked off twenty minutes ago to make a cup of tea and hadn’t come back, leaving Sharon alone with the screaming under-tens as she attempted to teach them about the Last Supper.

She was sat on an uncomfortably low chair, made for the children, as she attempted to continue their lesson to no avail. They were running amok, screeching and screaming as she tried to maintain some level of control. She was seventeen, for fuck’s sake - it was cruel that they’d put her on babysitting duty.

“And- And Jesus…” She tried, holding up the obscenely large book as she tried to command their attention. “And Jesus told his disciples- oh, fuck this.”

She flung the book onto the floor, ignoring how the smooth pages crumpled beneath the foot of a little boy. She had never liked that stupid shiny book anyway. Bread and wine seemed like a crap dinner.

“You just said a bad word! I’m going to tell the priest!” An obnoxious kid of maybe seven declared, crossing her arms across her chest.

She was the kind of brat Sharon’s mother had always hoped Sharon would be. Her gaze was accusatory, her clothes disgustingly pristine, and she probably had some kind of stupid name like Mary-Ann. Undoubtedly, she’d grow up to be another suffocating church mom.

Sharon scowled. “Oh yeah? How about I tell your mommy that you said you don’t believe in God, and you don’t even want to do your stupid Holy Communion? Hmm?”

The little girl burst into tears. Sharon rolled her eyes, anger bubbling in her chest as she rose from the ridiculously tiny chair and stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her, attracting the attention of the volunteer who was supposed to be taking care of the Sunday school. He looked up in surprise.

“They’re all yours.” She snarled. “Little fucking angels, the lot of them.”

With that, she stormed into the nave, cursing under her breath as she let the door slam shut behind her.

It seemed her outburst had not gone unnoticed, however, as the priest had ceased his dismal preaching, and the churchgoers were staring in horror at her entrance. It didn’t take long for Sharon to spot her mother, in that ludicrous hat with her murderous glare, so she walked with her head high towards the pew, slipping onto the end and bowing her head to blend in.

“Is everything quite alright with the children?” The priest inquired. Someone snickered.

“Just fucking peachy.” She replied, eliciting a shocked gasp. “Continue, Father John.”

Listening to the priest was no better, really, than the meltdown-inducing chaos of the Sunday school children, but it was something. At least his dull, unrelenting voice could allow her to zone out a little. She could just go into autopilot, saying ‘Amen’ when necessary and singing the words to hymns that she had practically been breastfed since birth.

As usual, she just obeyed. Sit down, stand up, pass money into the collection dish, sit down, sing the hymns, stand up. It was liturgical and structured, they told her. Just the way that God wanted it to be. Just the way she would never be able to be.

Suffocating. That was how it really was. Sharon felt trapped. A foot out of line, a hair out of place, a word misspoken - that was enough to feel as though she had let everyone down. She was a disgrace to the church and one day, she knew everyone would know about it. It felt like she was living a lie, almost. She’d go as far as saying that she had never believed in God, even as a child, and so attended the services in disbelief. She lived a lie, whilst still feeling the pressure and judgement under His watchful eye with her every thought and action. Sharon’s life was essentially planned out for her, all thanks to the church, and she hated it. She would never be able to be that perfect little wife they wanted her to be.

Raja and Jinkx were lucky. Raja’s family were Hindu, but Raja herself wasn’t, and Jinkx seemed as free as the wind that blew over the shore, devoid of any preconceived notions of how she should behave. Raja and Jinkx were able to just be. Sharon didn’t have that luxury.

The service ended all too soon, filling Sharon with a sense of impending dread. Most of her rebellion was away from her mother, as a way to feel as though she was silently taking control of her own life and her own fate. Rarely, she dared to be as bold as she had in talking back to the priest and the volunteer, and it always landed her in boiling hot water. Private rebellion felt safer, and as the priest talked, she could feel the looming horror of her punishment growing closer and closer, like the telling chill of a devastating winter blizzard. Although she hated it, she wished the service could go on for longer.

Mere seconds after it had ended, Sharon’s mother had taken her arm in a vice-like grip, and was frogmarching her outside. Her face was stony, rigidly set in a mask of pure anger that told Sharon she was going to pay dearly for her actions, at some point.

“What on God’s green earth do you think you’re doing?!” She bellowed, Sharon instinctively flinching. “How dare you swear at a man of God? How dare you embarrass me and our family in the holy place?”

Sharon swallowed. “I- I didn’t mean to, I-”

“Oh, yes, of course, now is the perfect time to repent from your sins. Sharon, dearest, do you remember your parables? How Jesus forgave the adulterous woman and made her promise to never do it again?”

She had no other option but to nod. “Yes, mom.”

“You aren’t just running out of chances, you vile brat. You ran out a long time ago.” Sharon’s mother paused, straightening her awful hat and glaring at Sharon, her face pinched. “Through Jesus, we find the way and the light. But you, young lady? You will never find His light. You will not be welcomed into the arms of Heaven when Judgement Day arrives. You’ll burn in Hell’s fires.”

She turned on her heel, marching away from the church and leaving Sharon with no choice in following her, a few paces behind so that she couldn’t see the tears glistening in her eyes. It didn’t matter if Sharon didn’t believe. Her mother did, and her mother truly believed she’d be suffering in eternal damnation. She would never be good enough.

It stung the entire way home. Sharon walked slowly, mulling over her mother’s words obsessively and growing more and more worked up as she thought. It wasn’t fair - it wasn’t fucking fair. She needed to get out. She needed to get away.

Of course, it would take careful planning, but Sharon was perfectly adjusted to finding illicit ways to get what she wanted. Sneaking out was practically second nature, having been raised in a Catholic prison since birth. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was hide away.

As quickly as she could, she changed out of her nauseating church garb, letting her hair fall back into its natural waves and applying the makeup that her mother so heavily frowned upon. She knew that she would be reading by now, poring over her favourite Bible verses in order to distract and soothe her from the travesty that was her daughter, which meant Sharon had a short window of time to escape in.

Like a pro, she managed it, positioning each foot carefully on the stairs to avoid creaking and edging the door open inch by inch until she could slip through it. Once out, she ran, pelting at full-tilt through the twisting market streets into the wealthier part of town. At just after midday, she knew Raja would be home by now, and more than anything, she needed the company of her best friends.

Unlike Sharon’s respectable little home, Raja and her family were on the more extravagant side of the spectrum. Their house was gleaming white, adorned with colonnades and statues of centuries-worshipped gods that spurted water across the courtyard. It was essentially a mansion in the middle of town, and as stifling as it may have looked, it was like a second home. Even just approaching the house made her feel calmer, the anger dissipating a little. Her spirits felt lifted.

She only had to knock once before she received an answer.

“Hey!” Raja greeted as the door swung open. Jinkx stood behind her, the both of them dressed and awake for once. “You coming in?”

“Nope. You’re coming out.” Sharon grinned, spreading her arms wide to allow the sunshine to embrace her. “We’re going back to paradise and you’re coming with me.”

When in desperation, the island was Sharon’s solace. It was where The Supermodels performed on weekends, but it was also the perfect escape away from her mother’s hawk eyes that always seemed to watch her. Hardly anyone even knew about it, other than those who lived there, and those who did know about it didn’t have any interest. After all, there wasn’t much there besides the houses, a small marketplace for the residents, the taverna and some abandoned buildings. It was so secluded that it felt safe and adventurous all at the same time. Of course, it was party central for any teens, thanks to the taverna’s staging and outdoor dance floor, but that was a secret from any prying adults.

Within minutes, the girls had rushed out, dragging Raja’s boat onto the shore so they could sail away to safety. Sharon closed her eyes and let the salty air refresh her, letting the breeze blow her hair back as the sea spray flicked her skin. This was comfort and safety. Out in the open, surrounded by the blue of the ocean and the blue of the sky, nothing could hurt her. God couldn’t judge her here. She was untouchable.

They disembarked at the dock, taking each other’s hands and running all the way up, fraught with giggles. Something about the island just filled them with a sense of joy. It was only when they climbed to the highest point on the island, a sandy cliff-face that had only rocks and flowers, that they calmed down.

Sharon sat onto one of the rocks. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m going insane, girls.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jinkx replied, squatting in a decidedly unladylike manner over another rock. “It’s the same every time.”

“I mean, what’s the point?” Sharon asked. “I don’t care about what happens when I die, and whether I get into some fictional fucking Heaven. I care about now, in the moment. But nothing is happening in the moment because I’m so fucking restricted! By her, and that stupid fucking God!”

Raja nodded. “We gotta get you out of this shit before she brainwashes you. Keep rebelling and keep holding on, girl.”

Sharon sighed. “The stupid bint just keeps getting worse and worse, which just drives me to do more. I didn’t get back this morning until half an hour before we needed to leave. Plus she found those vodka bottles I hid the other week and went fucking berserk at me. Fuck her and fuck her stupid-ass rules.”

“Yes!” Raja and Jinkx cheered in unison. “Fuck her!”

“And fuck my dad for going off to Spain to be a fucking missionary. Fuck the entire fucking religion.”

Sharon took a deep breath. “Okay, it’s out of my system. So, what’s happening tomorrow? Same set?”

Jinkx shrugged. “I’d say so. With any luck, those hot siblings will be there again.”

She and Raja exchanged a knowing look.

“Shut up!” Sharon squealed, bursting into laughter. “You did not fuck a sibling each! You did not!”

“WE DID!” Raja screeched, giggling. “We really did!”

“You’re so bad!” Sharon laughed, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “I can’t believe you. That’s amazing.”

Jinkx snorted, which set them all off again into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“You know, that’s the next step. To piss off your mom.” Raja observed.

Sharon frowned. “Huh?”

“Thou shalt not commit adultery.” Raja recited solemnly, her hand on her chest in a mockery of a promise. “Girl, commit some fucking adultery and discover the wonderful world of premarital sex.”

Sharon grinned. “I’m not gonna fuck just to piss my mom off! When I find the right guy or girl I’ll do it, but not for her. She’s not worth that much.”

“Atta girl!” Jinkx reached over for a high five. “And when you do choose to lose your virginity, do tell us all the details. I miss being pure.”

“Aww, you think I’m pure?” Sharon teased, cupping her hands in prayer. “A little angel?”

“Not with those dance moves last night, sweetheart.” Raja butted in, standing up to do a horrifically inaccurate impression. “Sexy as hell!”

The three collapsed into peals of giggles once again.

When the sun began to sink towards the horizon, painting the island in beautiful shades of copper, the girls made their way back to the boat, ready to sail away from their bubble of paradise. Sharon felt her heart tugging as they left, wanting nothing more than to stay and bask in the beginnings of the warm summer evenings. At home, a strict schedule and disappointment awaited her. Her heart sank like the sun beneath the waves as they moored, stepping back onto the mainland.

“Let’s take the long way round,” Sharon said softly, her friends catching on immediately. In silent solidarity, they each wrapped an arm around her as they walked, browsing leisurely through the market stalls to waste as much time as they could.

Familiar faces went past like always, driving Sharon insane with the repetition. Her life needed something new, desperately.

I wasn’t made for this, she thought, eyeing the unwavering structure of the world around her. I was never meant to do what everyone else is doing.

Sharon wondered, briefly, if the out-of-place feeling would ever stop, until she saw him.

He was stood alone at the tourist information stall, purchasing a map. His hair was dark, slightly curly, in a tousled mess atop his head. Though she couldn’t see all of him, Sharon could tell he was lean and muscular, and she was mesmerised by the movement of his pink lips as he spoke in a husky voice.

“Fuck me, he is gorgeous.” She breathed, turning to Raja and Jinkx and then back to him.

He turned, offering her a crooked, mischievous smile and a cocked eyebrow. “Was that you?”

“Might’ve been.” Sharon responded coyly. “What’s it to you?”

He chuckled, the sound like music to Sharon’s ears, and offered his hand. “You little minx. I’m Justin, I’m here on vacation. I thought I’d get out and see all the hidden wonders of the world.”

She took it. “Sharon. How’s that going for you? I live here on the mainland and I haven’t found any hidden wonders.”

Justin shrugged, a flirtatious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m looking at one right now. Maybe you could show me some more?”

In spite of herself, Sharon blushed. This handsome stranger was doing all kinds of crazy things to her mind, and yet they were only flirting. She had never felt this way before.

“You ever been to that little island over there?” She asked, pointing towards the landmass in the near distance. Justin shook his head.

“You’re in luck.” Sharon smiled. “Meet me there, six in the evening tomorrow. There’s a fantastic show at the taverna that I’m sure you’ll love”

Justin nodded slowly, impossibly suave. “With you, I’d go anywhere.”

[dar-manda-rjct]

Baby? (Pilot)

Summary: Sam and Dean find out that the Impala isn't how they left it. What the hell happened??

Warnings: (i rushed so it's pretty sloppy ma bad) confused baby dean uwu, skeptical and sassy Sam, cussing, HUMAN!IMPALA (i think that's it?¿)

Word count: +1300 idk

i hope you like it (i named it pilot bc this might flop lol love that for me)

Sam and Dean were on a case. They were posing as feds to find clues to a teenage girls death outside of the town. All signs pointed to vamps. They wanted to gonna go get some grub after talking it out with the parents.

"I don't know Dean, this isn't tying together so well, maybe we skipped something?" Sam called after his older brother.

They were heading back to the alley where they parked Baby, Dean was nodding back to Sam while he jabbered on, pretending to care when he actually wanted to bounce this place and get some food.

Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and turned the corner where they parked the Impala. Where it should be parked.

Dean's pulse quickened. Sam sensed his fear and anger from five feet away.

"Where the hell is my car!" Sam winced, "Deep breaths Dean." Dean whipped around his face pale from being on the edge of passing out, "Shut up Sam!"

A figure rose from behind the dumpster. It was a woman. Her dark skin was bare, she didn't have any clothes on her, Dean spun around on his heels to look away from her naked figure Sam spoke up to her,

"Woah miss you should be-" his voice faded in pure awe.

Dean felt arms wrap around his waist, he lifted his arms and curled his lip in disgust flailing his arms around, "Off, off, off!"

Please help me Dean." He looked back down at her, her golden eyes glaring back at him, they looked familiar but he couldn't place it.

He realized she knew his name. He didn't tell anyone in town his name, he was posing as a federal agent and should be addressed as Agent Morris.

Dean put his hand over where his gun was tucked in his belt, Sam did the same when Dean flickered his uneasy gaze to him.

"How do you know my name?"

The woman's eyebrows furrowed, "You won't believe me, you hunt weird shit like me, but Dean-" Her words were cut off and the wind was knocked out of her lungs as he rammed her into the brick wall, he checked her mouth for any signs of her being a vamp before snarling at her,

"Who the hell are you! How do you know who I am and what I do?" His voice rose and he had his gun out pressing the cold steel to her temple.

The woman didn't flinch she reached into his soul through his eyes with her fiery gaze taking him aback and took the opportunity to shove Dean off of herself and grab a rusty bar that lay next to her.

"I'm your car Dean! I'm Baby! I woke up here and I have legs, I have fucking legs!" Dean stepped off and looked at her chest, his and Sam's initials were carved into it, deep scars. "Bullshit!" Dean said harsher, he disarmed her and thrusted her body into the wall again.

"Baby?" Sam said with a tang of sass. Baby turned to look at him, "Yes!" she brought her arms up in submission "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Dean glared at her, observing her markings. She showed him the white devil's trap tattoo that was just above her back dimples like the one that was in the trunk, the scars from every crash she endured, mostly on her back and face.

Everything.

Dean's car was human. Why? Who the hell knows.

Sam was the one to break the silence, "Well if you're Baby then where are all the weapons?" She looked at him with a raised brow and then caught onto what he was saying. taking their hands and leading them to where she was hiding earlier.

Behind the dumpster was the mass of guns, holy water, rosaries, knives, machetes, ammunition, and of course, grenade launcher. The duffel bags, cassettes, beer cooler, cases, cellphones, and wads of cash were there too.

Sam stepped closer to her his hazel eyes burning holes into her, "Alright then tell us something only our car would know."

Baby cackled, "I know how much people you slept with in my backseat, that you put legos into my vents, the army men, the amount of heads you've stored in the cooler that was in my backseat, the bodies you stored in the trunk."

She chuckled before the next confession, "When you kidnapped Crowley and put him in the trunk he would hum "Sweet Caroline" to himself. Good times."

She looked at Dean with an evil smirk, "Oh and that you and Cas-" Dean intervened , "OKAAY that'll do." Sam shrugged and pulled Dean to the side, "I mean I believe her."

Dean squinted at him, "What part made you believe her?" Sam raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, looking at Dean. Dean caught on, "Shut up bitch."

Sam and Dean turned back to Baby, "Okay, we believe you, but try anything we will kill you," Baby smiled

"But before we go anywhere you will put on some clothes." Dean waved his finger at her like a scolding parent,

Baby cringed not liking that tone one bit, "Thanks?"

Baby continued to put on one of Sam's red flannel shirts and jeans, they were long, she cut the pant cuffs with a machete and fixed the pants to fit her hips with one if their belts. She took Dean's combat boots and socks and slipped them on.

She walked from behind the dumpster and did a little strut. "Eh? I look good." Sam giggled, "You look like me."

She fumed, "And I still look like a better lumberjack, shut your hole."

Sam, Dean, and Baby rented a car for the time being, considering their main ride had it's own two legs.

The three got back to the motel after getting some food. Baby likes cheeseburgers and fries, a lot. Dean insisted it be her first real meal.

"I love food." She said through a mouthful, the flannel sleeves sunk to her elbows when her hands were angled up because the shirt was so big. "We'll have to go find you some clothes soon." Sam observed her after taking a swig of his beer. Pretty soon Baby would want to try some beer too.

Baby was a fine looking as a human just as she was when she was a car. A few scars, sigil tattoos here and there, but she had the same golden eyes the car's headlights had, dark skin with barely visible freckles and short, dark afro that pulled her little 60s look together.

She had an hourglass figure which was hidden by Sam's clothes, she was about 5'7 and quite muscular, not to mention resourceful.

Even still, she looked as if she just came back from the 60s, it was strange; and they hunt monsters for a living.

"So what now?" Baby leaned into Sam to get his attention away from the computer. Sam looked at Dean, his eye brows furrowed, "Should we let her take this case with us?"

Baby looked at Sam, her gold eyes narrowing questioningly then flickering it over to Dean, curling her lips in a smile and winking, "I think you know the answer Dean-o." Dean looked up at her and chuckled, "Hell no."

Her face got a sarcastic look, "Too bad grasshopper, I'm tagging along. I tag along when I'm a car don't I?"

Dean gave her the Winchester bitch-face, "It's different now, I don't think you even know how limbs work."

Baby frowned, "You'll teach me then, or Sam will." Dean got tired of her stubborn determination, "Fine."

Baby smiled satisfied. "We'll leave in the morning then, get some clothes for Baby, teach her how to use her limbs and then continue on our way it's getting late anyway." Dean announced.

They went to bed early, around 12, Dean didn't sleep much. How could he? His car was asleep in the same bed as him. This job couldn't possibly get any weirder.

Could it?

[mysticmikalla]

If it's not too much of a problem, could I request a small fic for Saeran? For example him leaving the Mc without saying anything because he still feels insecure about himself and coming back a few years later to make things up only to find out he has a child? I'm sorry for this roller coaster I just want some angst...

You want angst? You got angst!

Ps, this “small” fic ended up getting quite long bc I got a bit carried away lolol

Pss, shoutout to my girl dahlia for helping me overcome my writer’s block and giving me tons of inspo♥️

Psss; this is the first piece i publish that im nervous about so pls bare with me as i edit and rewrite this over and over lol

***

The mind of Saeran Choi was a hectic place.

Thousand of paradoxical thoughts and fears circled in his head, clashing and colliding into each other, taking form of his worst nightmares or most desired daydreams. It was a never-ending battle for dominance over the boy’s emotions between hope and despair. He’d take several pills for his intense headaches just so he could rest, and he took them much so that it became routine.

His world had always been dark and fuzzy, people taking form of shapes and noises instead of individuals, making it hard to care for someone, or allow them to care for him. He had shut himself in a world of darkness, despair always winning.

Ah, but then there was you. You were an amber in his ashen world, the moon peaking through clouds on a dense night. You came into his life so unexpectedly, and, in the shortest amount of time, because his most precious. You were his one and only treasure in life, the one who could make him feel normal. Who could make him feel human, rather than two opposite sides fighting for dominance.

You alone were able to silence most of the noise in his head. Most.

Despite popular belief and what you read in romance novels and fairy tales, love couldn’t cure all. It couldn’t magically make all of his life-long scars disappear, no matter how much he wished it.

Which is why he left, why he felt like he needed to leave with nothing but a light kiss on your forehead as you slept a note where he scribbled a quick ‘I’m sorry’.

With only a small bag of his belonging and a heart full of hurt, Saeran Choi disappeared from your life.

Your breath was knocked out of your body as the realization that he left, that he left you all alone and wouldn’t come back. Your body shook with broken sobs, your mind raced and hurt with unanswered questions, and your heart broke with what you thought was unrequited love

A tear-stained face became your norm for weeks, the cold space in bed beside you and the loneliness the absence of the love of your life becoming too much for you to bear.

After a few weeks, you started feeling sick in the morning and your cycle was unusually late, the ground of your stability started shaking, and when the little plus sign on the pregnancy test confirmed your fears, it sunk all together.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this alone. You could barely manage to pull yourself together after Saeran left, how were you supposed to take care of a child?

You begged his twin brother to locate him and bring him home, to at least find out if he was okay. You were a mess, thoughts running wild with worst case scenarios of Saeran being hurt, of you never being able to find him again.

Saeyoung was reluctant  at first, knowing that his brother must have had a good reason for leaving you, the one he loved the most, behind.

But after you told him about the baby, the red-headed hacker felt like he had no choice but to tell his brother about him. He could see the deep circles underneath your eyes and how your skin was paler than usual, and he felt as if owed it to you , in behalf of his brother, to help.

It was an old feud, hacker versus hacker, in which Saeran always won. He hid his traces and whereabouts so well, it was as if he never existed. In your insomniac nights filled with delirium, you wondered if he ever did exist in the first place.

Weeks became months, and months became years without him by your side. You desperately tried to recall what his voice sounded like, what his touch felt like against your skin. The galloping of your heart whenever you kissed him was now nothing but a distant memory, a foreign feeling. The only reason you still remembered his face was because of his twin brother who was there to keep you grounded.

Thoughts of him, which before occupied your mind every second of the day, became more scarce as the years went by, until they were a rarity. Your daily life went on, and you couldn’t waste time wondering about your former lover, not when taking care of your child came first.

With Saeyoung and the rest of the RFA supporting you, for the first time in a while you felt as if you weren’t alone.

***

Saeran’s heart pounded against his chest, so aggressively he though he’d might pass out before he reached for the doorknob of your previously shared home. How long had it been? He couldn’t recall at the moment. If felt like only seconds since he had last been here, but the agonizing longing in his chest made it seem like a millennia all at once.

He debated on whether to just open the door and walk right in like nothing had happened, or to ring the door bell and wait outside like a stranger would.

He settled for the latter, hearing the all too familiar bell echo throughout the house. When he heard footsteps coming closer, he felt as if he would collapse. He had dreamed about this moment for the past three years, and now that it finally arrived, he wondered whether or not he could handle to mixture of excitement and nervousness in his chest.

“Coming!” Nothing had ever sounded so melodic as that one word he heard your voice say through the closed door. The longing on his chest was suddenly so unbearable, he had to hold on to the door frame for support.

The door swung open, and his heart stopped.

There you stood. You were already in your pajamas, getting ready for the night. He noted your hair was different, and you looked thinner than you had before. He wanted to embrace you as soon as he saw you before him, but he restrained himself.

How would you react, he worried.

With widened eyes, you took the sight of Saeran in. You could almost mistake him for his brothe now, as his hair, which previously had been bleached white, was now bright red. It was also the first time you saw him without his blue contacts, his amber eyes bright and burning.

“Sa-Saeran?” You sputtered in disbelief. It was you who needed support now, feeling your body grow weak.

“MC,” He breathed, your name rolling off his tongue as if he had been waiting all this time to finally utter it, “I-I’m back.”

Your mind raced to find the right words, to decipher what you were feeling right now at this shocking sight before you, but all you could do was gap at him. The person you loved, dreamed about and ached for all these years stood right in front of you. The man who broke your heart and left you all alone with no explanation was back, and you didn’t know what to feel about it. Rather, you couldn’t just pick one emotion, seeing that you were feeling them all at once.

He couldn’t find the right words, either. He didn’t know how to express how much he missed you, how sorry he was for leaving you alone, how beautiful you looked and how many times he had dreamed of this.

“MC, I think we ran out of diapers, I think I will-” Saeyoung’s voice was cut off at the sight of his brother standing in the doorway. The three of you were frozen in place.

As he took in the sight of the red-headed baby girl in Saeyoung’s arm, Saeran’s jaw dropped and his head spun. He glanced at you, then back at his twin with the girl, and then back at you, incredulous.

Out of all the scenarios he had played out in his head, this was definitely not one of them.

“MC…Is this…” He opened and closed his mouth over and over, unsure of what to say, “You and him…?!”

“Saeran, it’s not-” Saeyoung began, but the boy already fumed, fists clenching beside him.

“You don’t have the right to be angry right now, Saeran.” You finally spoke. They were tranquil and soft, but Saeran felt an intimidating resemblance with a calm before the storm.

He ran a hand messily through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh, telling himself to calm down. But the hurt in his chest wouldn’t allow it. He was already more agitated than he would have like to be on the first time you two met again.

You and Saeyoung? Together? Thoughts of you and him tortured his mind, being close, being intimate, falling in love…

He wanted nothing more than to stick a needle in his ear and poke them all out with his brain. It hadn’t been that long since he left, and all that time you were the only thing in his mind. How could you have moved on so fast? With his twin, of all people?

“Hey, Saeyoung, can you give us a second?” You pleaded to the red-haired man behind you gently. You could tell Saeran was angry and unsettled at his presence.

“Are you sure?” He asked, eyeing you, your daughter and then his twin nervously. What Saeran couldn’t wrap his mind around was why his own brother was trying to protect you, the love of his life, his MC, instead of him. He should be the one protecting you, not him, never him.

He would never hurt you; not before, and especially not now. Not now that he’s come so far and worked so hard to get better. For you. It was all for you.

“I’m sure.” You smiled up at his eyes behind glasses, touching his arm lightly and reassuringly. The small action made Saeran want to throw up. How did it get like this?

Saeyoung left with the baby, and you and Saeran were alone again. You motioned for him to come it, still dazed by his sudden presence. You still didn’t know what to say, no combination of letters and words sufficing to express how you felt.

“MC…” He began, trying to remember what he had rehearsed in his head a thousand times over. He wanted to explain everything, to let you know how sorry he was for leaving and that he missed you. But deep down he knew there was no way to make up for it.

You shook your head, “Why did you come back?”

He knew you were angry. Your furrowed brows, arms crossed and your lips tugging downwards was more than enough to tell him so, but the words still felt like salt in his already wounded heart. He expected you to be at least a bit happy in seeing him after so long, but you only seemed troubled and hurt. Despite the situation and his worried expression, his heart was almost bursting with happiness at seeing you again. It was the happiest moment of the last three years for him, and he was hoping you’d feel the same, at least a little.

“MC, please let me explain-”

“Explain how you left me?”

“I swear I didn’t mean-”

“How you disappeared for three years without a word? How you left me here all alone, with just a fucking note?!” You raised your voice, heat flushing your cheeks as your anger took over. All those sleepless nights came rushing back, your broken sobs echoing in the back of your mind.

“I had to, MC…” He stood across from you, desperately wanting to close the gap between you and have you in his arms again, “I had to leave. For your sake.”

“I don’t understand,” You shuffled backwards, “I don’t understand! How could that have possibly been for my sake?!”

You were angry. You were furious.

Out of all the times you dreamed of meeting him again and confronting him, never did you imagine he would say he did it for you. You almost rolled your eyes, how cliché.

“That’s why I’m trying to explain it to you!” He was getting frustrated at your own frustration, his voice rising up to match yours, “MC, I wasn’t…I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t half the man I knew I could be. You deserved someone who could have given you everything, and I-”

“But you did give me everything! I was happy with you!” You exclaimed, “I loved you, Saeran, why couldn’t you just see that?!”

“But you deserved-”

“It’s up to me to know what I do and don’t deserve,” You objected, “And I know that what I didn’t deserve was being left alone like that. Nobody deserved that.”

“I know, MC…I fucked up. I know now that what I did was wrong,” He steadied himself, lowering his voice again and regaining the composure he tried so hard to achieve, “That’s just proof of how immature and unworthy I was… It’s why I had to leave, I couldn’t drag you down with me. Everyone was right, I couldn’t make you stay by my side and take care of me. It’s not what you wanted, and I was holding you back-”

“But that’s what I meant when I said I loved you! It meant that I’d stay by you through anything and everything. It meant that I would never leave. But you left, and I thought-” You choked on the words, built up pain from these last few years resurfacing, “I thought that when you left, it meant you didn’t love me enough. Not even enough to say goodbye.”

That old, familiar aching in your chest sparked up again, and soon your tears salted your tongue.

“That’s what you thought?” His eyes softened, his chest squeezing at the sight of you so sad

“What else was I supposed to think?”

“MC, I never stopped loving you.” He took a step towards you, attempting to grab the hands he missed so much, but being met with rejection as you backed away.

“You’re lying. If you loved me, walking away shouldn’t have been so easy-”

“Leaving you that day was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Please believe me, MC!” He cried, his eyes desperately searching for yours.

You bit your lip to keep from sobbing, the ache in your chest upsurging with each word he spoke to you.

“You won’t believe me, right?” His body deflated, “I can’t make you understand, not after everything I put you through…But just please answer me this…How long did it take…For you and Saeyoung to get together after I left?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “Huh?”

“How long it it take for you to to move o-on?” His voice broke, and now his own tears stained his cheeks.

“Saeran, I don’t-”

“That girl looks to be around three. How many months did you wait before you replaced me with him?” You expected his tone to be angry when he asked you these things, but they were sad, hurt and empty. Broken. Saeran looked tired and defeated, and for the first time since you saw him again, your facade started to break.

God, it still hurt. The whole in your chest was still there. You were a fool for ever believing anything could ever fill it.

“Sae, please listen to me,” You muttered softly, taking a few steps in his direction, his gazed fixed on the ground in refusal to meet yours, “It took exactly nine months for her to be born after you left. She isn’t Saeyoung’s.”

When he finally met your eyes, they were filled with confusion and…hope?

“W-what?”

You let out a small laugh in between your tears, “She’s yours, Saeran. She’s ours.”

His brain buffered, not quite comprehending the words you had just spoken. He stuttered, trying to formulate words but none would come to mind. He…had a daughter.. With you. The gorgeous red-haired girl he had seen previously is half his, and half the woman he loves. No matter how hard he tried, his brain couldn’t process it.

A child? A daughter? He had a daughter…?

You stepped a bit closer to him, lightly caressing his arms. Your touch brought him back from his momentary daze, and he wished you’d never let go. He could never find the right words to tell you how much he missed your skin on his, “There has never been anybody else, Sae. Just you. It was always you.”

While your words meant Heaven and Earth to one brother, the other listened quietly behind closed doors, his heart stuck on his throat. He was happy, truly, that his twin had come back. He knew how much he meant to you, how you missed him everyday during his absence, even when you refused to admit so.

He knew that empty, far away look in your eye would finally disappear now that he was back, but Saeyoung was hurting with each syllable you uttered.

Despite the girl who slept in his arms not being his, and the woman far from his reach never truly seeing him, he felt happy. He found a family through you, helping you raise your baby and being there when his own brother failed to do so. He was helpless as he felt you two slipping away from him and into the arms of his brother. He felt sad and nostalgic at the thought of not being the one you relied on anymore. He even felt a little bit enraged at how easily Saeran had waltzed in your life again.

Saeyoung knew he shouldn’t be having these thoughts. They were wrong, selfish. The two most important people to him were finally happy, so why wasn’t he?

“MC…I’m sorry, I had no idea…!” Saeran finally spoke, the thought of you, all alone while pregnant with his child haunting his mind. Did you cry often? How many times had you cursed him, wishing none of this had ever happened, probably wishing you had never met him?

How could you possibly still love him after that?

“If I had known you were carrying a child, my child…I would have never…Oh God…” His knees grew weak, and he had to slump back on a chair to keep from sinking to the ground. His heart started racing and hands were shaking. He took a shallow breath at a time, his face buried in his hands.

Not again, he thought, not now.

He couldn’t lose control in front of you now. He wanted to show the person in front of him that he had changed, that we was becoming a better man for you. That all of this had been for something. But right now he felt as if he were back to square one, the fucked up little boy who couldn’t even control his emotions.

You rushed to his side, patting his back gently, comfortingly, “Shh, hey. Sae, look at me, please.”

He shook his head, refusing to meet your eyes, “I understand now. I understand why you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” You cooed, moving your hands up from his back to his hair, stroking it in the way you used to whenever he was upset all those years ago. You had tried convincing yourself that you did, you hated him. You insisted on the thought that he no longer had a place in your heart and you would be fine without him. While these thoughts were comforting to you back then, they were false. “I could never hate you, Sae. And you couldn’t have known.”

“But you were alone. I was so selfish, I’m sorry. You must have been so angry-”

“I was angry, yes,” You sighed, “I was pissed, and I was hurt. You weren’t here when I needed you to be, and it hurt because I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

“MC-”

“But you’re here now,” You went on. The anger that previously clouded your judgement dissipating as soon as you felt his touch again. There still obvious lingering feelings of hurt within you, and they wouldn’t disappear so soon. But they didn’t seem important now.

The man weeping in your arms, the father of your child being back in your life was most important at that moment. Him and Saeyoung being right there with you, as your family, was what you craved the most, and you couldn’t let go of that because of past hurts. There would still be plenty of time to fix what was once broken, to heal what was wounded, but right now you two needed each other. You needed him so desperately it was almost physical, as if your bodies and souls were calling out to each other.

“C-can I see her?” He asked, wiping away at his tears and finally glancing at you.

You smiled reassuringly at him, trying to contain your own tears, “Of course. She’s yours, too.”

Yours. He would never get used to hearing that word.

The redhead finally took the courage to pull you close and wrap you in his arms, the familiarity of the smell of your hair, of the way you clung to his shirt as you hugged him was so overwhelming that a string of tears dropped on your shoulder.

Finally.

“MC…” He breathed through his sobs, “Thank you. I love you, I never stopped. I know I can’t ever make it up to you, but I want to spend the rest of my life trying. So please, if you’ll have me, I’d like to come home. Please,” He cried harder and hugged you tighter, “I want to come home.”

It was hard to talk when your heart was at your throat and your chest bared to him, but you managed to choke out a whisper anyway, “Welcome home, Saeran.”

[antiquexbeast]

Hey so I love your ship with antiquexbeast. Christblood deserves more love and vampire/witch + demon christblood deserves even more! Can you give us a few headcannons or little fun facts for the ship?

i think you mean @sacrosanctdeceit lol, but that’s chill afefaiwenfiidk im glad ya’ll like our? flailing mess of 30 half verses and wine fueled crack bullshit???idek what headcanons i can give really for the whole ship, mostly since damien acts very differently to the other depend on the verses. i can try to do a minor breakdown of each though?

                      damien, actual good boi           as a friendship, yeah they’d be a little weird, but pretty much everyone on the block is weird, so they’d find ways of enjoying each other’s company of course ~           as a romantic ship or anything else like that on it’s own, in canon, with like… no au spices or anything, idk i honestly have a hard time shipping it and writing for it lol. this has everything to do with damien as a person and the sheer fact that he wouldn’t ever fuck a married dude, let alone a dude whose married to his best friend like what lol??

demon!joe just terrifies the shit out of him so that’s… yeah… not much to say about that there tbh it’s self explanatory lol

                     vampire!damien         you know what’s jacked up about this ship? technically he just waits for everyone in the neighborhood to die and then he can be fine hanging out with this demon who, for some inexplicable reason, really has the hots for him.         but damien hangs out in his coffin chewin his nails every morning like “jfc i’m terrible, i’m literally out here messin’ around with the thing possessing the body whose body is married to my best friend oh my god what is wrong with me this is awful and terrible this needs to stop how do i stop this??” but invariable does… nothing… to fix… the problem… until it becomes a debilitating issue lol

also spoiler: i don’t think he’s… actually told this thing that he loves them lol. he’s feelin’ Some Kinda Way about the whole thing but STILL goes and MESSES AROUND with this DEMON, like BOI what I s YoU DoiN??

HCs??       - thoroughly enjoys being domestic and old and will literally come over to curl up on the couch and knit next to demon!boi while he’s doing something calm.        - out of sheer archaic habit, he’s very controlled with his displays of affection and personal space, something he generally forgets that lends a hand in keeping their strange relationship in check. usually the demon is the first to provide affections and compliments first, but every now and then when he’s sure they’re alone he’ll place a hand on the demon’s just so, or press a brief kiss to the corner of his mouth.       - he refuses to tell the demon how old he is, and has made a point to say that it’s rude to ask or poke around his brain for the information. the only hint of his general age one might get would be that he periodically succumbs to fits of feral behavior. normally he’d shut himself in the underground workings of his home until he slept it off, but since the demon’s come into his life and ruined his routine, that’s been completely thrown off.       - he does go through bouts of something he can only describe as narcolepsy. it usually occurs when he’s expended a great deal of energy towards craft in a very limited amount of time, or when he’s put under too much stress ( physiological, emotional, ect ). when he sleeps, he’s never sure if he’ll wake up in a week, a month, or a decade. it’s very difficult to wake him in fact, but since the other immortal has been in his life, he’s had an easier time waking up mid coma for a few moments at a time ~

                     exorcist!damien          oh my god THIS man in particular is just? he’s absolutely polite, don’t get me wrong, he’s still a sweetheart, but he will not hesitate to back hand you into next week if you happen to be something he has to hunt and/or yeet back into wherever dimension you came from.          he’s not terribly thrilled about the job he has now, but he’s a bit stuck in it since his family made a lot of weird mistakes 50 skrillion years ago, so that’s just part of the ol’ family business now i guess. he does agree that it could be worse, and he’s very happy that the people he works for ensures that his son is always kept safe ( probably so if he dies for some weird reason they can just recruit him and be like GO AVENGE YOUR DAD or some weirdness idk that tends to happen right? )            he’s a tad bit bitter right now, but i think that’s mostly because he’s just annoyed that the target he’s trying to hunt and exterminate is trying to be friends? after previously trying to take his body? like boi… figure yourself out.

HCs??       - if this went anywhere but constant fighting it’d be a hateship i’m alive for that bc im filthy like hands down. i literally can’t think of any scenario where exorcist!dame doesn’t want to just peel the demon out and get the town Jesus Boi back. but here’s this demon. makin things hard. gettin all chummy.      - during daylight and normal hours, he doesn’t look any different, but his skin covered in a great series of tattoos ( scarification?? ) of charms, talismans, demon traps, and assorted other inscriptions. most of them are for banishing entities, ensuring he isn’t possessed, and one spot on his chest that acts as a sort of “spiritual pocket” for a single bonded weapon of choice ( The Order keeps calling them blessed script and the like, but he’s just like yeah, that’s not, you know i’m a witch right this isn’t… okay you know what? that’s fine, not gonna argue, i’m tired– )      - the main issue with the above is demon boi keeps TOUCHING HIM and activating the runes that repel him by reflex. most demons immediately pull away and complain about the pain and being burned, but demon!joe just keeps getting in his space and picking him up and carrying him around he’s just SO DISTURBED BY THIS like do you have a pain kink what is WRONG??      - istg most of this verse is Damien trying to catch demon boi in the act of some bullshit out in public. usually he’s more covert than this, but being as this target is just so SMOOTH and DECENT SEEMING and TOO GOOD at it, it’s now just driving him nuts, so he’s pulling some Willie Coyote stunts he honestly shouldn’t be      - idk i don’t have a lot for this yet other than it just makes me laugh cause i just needed something not so tense as our other verses lol

jfc this was so long I’M SO SORRY i think that’s it though i’m done afoienfawe

[elsaclack]

This is really random but I saw a fic of yours about Amy being sick (I think the prompt was "Amy yells at the Vulture") but I can't find the full piece anywhere. Is it on AO3 anywhere? I love your writing and I completely understand if you just didn't want it out anymore. Just thought I'd ask! :)

i thought it was but i just went and searched my entire work history (including all 70+ chapters of those god-forsaken oneshot collections) and i couldn’t find it anywhere!! i guess i forgot to cross-post it back when i first wrote it, and it got lost when i deleted the original elsaclack. but i just scoured my docs list and found it buried in a random folder so i’ll repost it here and add it to the newest one-shot collection on ao3 :)

fun fact: this was written almost exactly 2 years ago!!! meaning that my writing skills have developed considerably since i actually wrote this. aka please don’t judge me if this seems like a sudden regression haha

also i wanna tag @phil-the-stone-art bc we actually developed the concept of The List together so she’s at least 35% responsible for this fic lmao

under the cut!

Amy Santiago does not get sick, thank you very much. She prides herself on her meticulous nightly hygienic rituals, on the cabinet full of multivitamins and minerals she takes on a daily basis in her bathroom, on the rigorous workout routine and diet she keeps herself on each week to maintain perfect health. She lives her life by a very tight plan (laid out in checklists and carefully organized in color-coded binders) that simply does not afford her any extra time to be sick.

Which is why, when she wakes up one Tuesday morning with a head stuffed full of cotton and violent shivers rolling down her spine, she gets up to start her usual routine in spite of the fact that she feels like she hasn’t actually slept in three weeks. Jake’s still snoring on the other side of the bed, another hour away from getting up to haphazardly dress in whatever flannel he can find lying on her bedroom floor that doesn’t smell too dirty, and he doesn’t even stir at the sound of her shuffling footsteps or running nose.

She drags herself into the bathroom, shuts the door, and flicks the lights on. Her reflection honestly makes her jump back an inch or two; she’s never seen her skin quite so pale, or bruises beneath her eyes quite so dark, or her lips quite so visibly dry and cracked. She reaches out to grip the edges of her sink and realizes that her arms and hands are trembling, and when she leans a bit more weight onto them she notes that her knees are quaking beneath her.

All in all, not a great start to the day.

She presses on, though, ignoring her running nose and congested head and general exhaustion. The shower helps a little, but not much.

When she shuts the water off, she hears Jake moving around in her bedroom, and her heart skips a beat. She hadn’t even realized she’d been in the shower that long. “Jake?” She calls as she wraps a towel around herself. Her voice is coarse and rough.

“Hey,” he knocks lightly at the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah - yeah, could you, um…there’s a binder out on the dining room table, should say something on the cover about that case I was working on last night -” she clears her throat and winces at the sharp pain that responds “- could you grab it and put it in my bag?”

“Sure,” he’s quiet for a moment and Amy’s left to gently rub at her temples with the heels of her hands. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound awful.”

“I’m…I’m fine.”

But she’s not. Her knees are still quaking and vertigo has suddenly set in and she’s swaying, reaching out to grab the tiled edge of her shower. Her hand slips against the wet surface and she falls forward, shoulder banging painfully into the tiles.

The door swings open and Jake bursts inside in a panic. “Ames? Oh my God!” She suddenly realizes that she’d sunk down to a crouching position upon falling. He kneels next to her, gently pulling her away from the shower and letting her lean heavily into him. Her head falls against his shoulder, forehead pressed to the crook of his neck, and she hears him tut. “You’re burning up, babe,” he says quietly.

“I’m fine,” her voice fails half-way through and she ends up finishing in an unconvincing whisper.

“You’re not going to work today,” he tells her.

“But -”

“You almost fainted just now, Amy. You’re staying home sick today.”

She tries to argue but he pulls her up off the ground, keeping his touch firm and steady should gravity leave her again, and her voice completely dies on the way out of the bathroom. He lets her whisper weak arguments as he steers her gently toward the bed, humming and nodding along as he pulls fresh sweatpants up her legs and eases one of his academy shirts over her head. He pushes back on her good shoulder with just enough force that she lays down and pulls the comforter up to her chin. Her eyelids flutter closed when he presses a kiss against her forehead.

“I’ll tell Captain Holt where you are,” he says quietly. His hand finds hers against the mattress, fingers twisting through hers. “Get some sleep, okay?”

She’s asleep before he even gets out the front door.

A few hours later she’s roused by the sound of her phone vibrating on her bedside table. Sunlight streams in through her window and she squints, disoriented, fumbling around with semi-numb fingers for her phone.

From: Jake PeraltaHow u feelin? Miss u at work. Charles says he’ll bring u goat soup later lol

It hurts to even swallow, and Amy has to work really hard to keep from whining at the splitting headache igniting behind her right eye.

To: Jake PeraltaFeel like garbage. I haev a headache. Im afraid to get out of bed for meds. Miss u too

She waits five minutes for him to respond, and when her phone remains motionless, she closes her eyes and lets it fall against her chest.

Precisely twenty minutes after that, she hears her front door open. It closes again and she hears footsteps crossing her living room and it only just hits her that someone is in her apartment when those footsteps cross the threshold of her bedroom.

“Hey, hey, don’t get out of bed,” Jake says soothingly. Amy falls back against her pillow from her struggling half-sitting up position as Jake drops a plastic grocery bag at the foot of her bed and perches on the edge of the mattress beside her. He replaces her phone back on her bedside table with one hand and smooths his other palm over her forehead (and she only just then realizes that she’s sweating) and grimaces. “You’re still burning up,” he says, running his fingers through her hair just above her forehead.

“I’m fine,” she whispers, and the words slip out between two wet coughs.

He frowns and gently scratches his short nails against her scalp. “I brought Advil,” he says, casting an absent glance over his shoulder at the bag he brought in, “and stuff to make soup. It’s the recipe for Nana’s matzoh ball soup.” She raises her eyebrows beneath his palm and he grins down at her. “Don’t tell Charles, but it’s literally the best soup you’ll ever have and it’ll cure your dumb cold in twenty minutes or less.”

“Promise?”

He leans down and pecks a kiss against her forehead. “Promise,” he says when he leans away. “I’m gonna go make some and bring it in here and you’ll be back on your feet before the end of the day. Peralta Guarantee.” He winks.

She sinks down into the mattress as much as she can when he stands up, opening her eyes only when he comes back in with two Advil tablets and a glass half-full of water. Within minutes she begins hearing pots and pans knock around in her kitchen, and through her cloudy mind she registers that her stomach is rumbling in irritation.

“Alright,” he announces from her doorway. Her eyes split open and he’s carefully balancing the soup bowl on top of her dresser. “I’ll help you sit up, don’t move.”

He pulls her up with one hand and waits until she’s sitting up steadily before hurriedly stacking her pillows up behind her. She breathes a sigh of relief when she leans back, not realizing just how much of a strain sitting up is until that moment. He hurries back to where the soup is still steaming and carefully brings it over to her, the tip of his tongue appearing at the corner of his mouth for how hard he has to concentrate on not spilling any.

He nestles it in her lap, and she smiles, because he looks so proud of himself and he’s really so adorable.

Jake stays with her until she finishes the whole bowl and then he takes her dishes from her and quickly rinses them out in her sink.

“I’ll be back after work to check on you and to finish cleaning that, okay?” He calls from her doorway.

She hums hoarsely and fades out of consciousness.

An hour later, Amy wakes up feeling half-human. Her head and throat still hurt and she still can’t breathe out of her nose, but her brain doesn’t feel quite so fried and her limbs don’t feel quite so weak anymore.

Jake was right - the soup really did help.

Not as much as Nyquil would, but…still.

She kicks the comforter off and moves to sit up, and her phone suddenly falls into her lap from her chest. She pauses, staring at it, trying to remember when it ended up back there. She has no new calls or texts, but when she unlocks the screen, there’s a new note pulled up.

Things i want t odo to jake in bed

Amy feels flames engulf her face that have absolutely nothing to do with her fever. The list has twelve items on it, each one raunchier and riddled with more spelling errors than the last, and by the time she gets to the end of the note she’s covering her face in embarrassment. She’s got just the vaguest memory of typing it (and it’s really more of a dream of a memory than anything else), but none of it will solidify into more than just faint snapshots in her head.

But the more she rereads it, the more heat begins building in her body - heat from the mental images, heat from the germs ravaging her body, heat from the thick comforter still draped over her legs.

She has got to go get some Nyquil.

Santiago Determination blazes through her as she drags herself out of bed, shoulders set and jaw clenched as she pulls one of Jake’s hoodies over her frame and slides her feet into her rarely-worn flip-flops. Part of her feels guilty, knowing that if Jake was the one home sick she’d insist on him texting her anything he needs so that he would stay in bed and recover faster, but she brushes it off as she grabs her purse.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

She blames her scattered brain on the matzoh ball soup later. She blames her compromised detective skills and her lack of attention to detail and her general disorientation on the soup. Because under normal circumstances, no matter how sick she truly is, she would definitely have noticed the Vulture browsing the low aisles of the bodega around the corner from her house immediately upon walking through the front doors.

But as it is, she doesn’t, which means that he gets a visual on her before she’s even aware of being spotted.

She’s so busy perusing the medicine section toward the back that she doesn’t notice him stalking around the shelves, doesn’t feel him peeking around the Doctor Scholl’s cardboard display, doesn’t hear him mutter at a mother and daughter to get out of his way as he follows her ambling walk down the aisle. She isn’t aware of the danger until he’s basically on top of her.

“Yo, Santiago,” he says, his voice low and curdling. She winces and turns slowly, and he’s leaned against the shelves to her left, leering down at her. A handcart hangs between them; it’s full of at least thirty boxes of condoms, she realizes when she glances down. Her stomach shifts unpleasantly. “You look homeless.”

“Get out of the way,” she whispers hoarsely.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Peralta got you screaming so hard every night you lost your voice?”

Heat bursts through her cheeks and she glances back, meeting the scandalized look on that same mother’s face with an apologetic grimace. “Shut up.” She snaps as fiercely as she can.

He smirks, because her voice only comes in bursts. “Damn, you really let yourself go, didn’t you?” His eyes rove her body and she’s suddenly very keenly aware of the fact that she’s not wearing any underwear beneath her sweatpants. She can feel her face blossoming.

“Whatever.” She turns away quickly and digs her phone out of her purse, cursing when she hears the Vulture following her down the aisle. She dials Jake’s number quickly, and he answers after just two rings.

“Hey, is everything oka-”

“I need you go come to the bodega by my apartment,” she whispers. She can feel her hand trembling again and she curses whatever part of her thought it would be a good idea to do this on her own.

“Wait, what? Why are you -”

“I thought I could walk over here and get what I needed without you, but -” she winces at the sound of the Vulture’s laugh, loud and obnoxious behind her. “But I ran into someone and I need you to come save me.”

“Santiago, look - they do make extra-small condoms! Should I put a whole box in for you and Peralta or is that too many?”

She hears a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Is that the Vulture?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Do not faint.”

“I’m doing my best, but please hurry.”

Amy starts pacing up and down the aisles, doing her best to block the Vulture out. He trails along behind her, alternating between making lewd sexual innuendos about random items on the shelves they pass (“Everything’s a sex toy if you try hard enough,” while pointing out a plastic broom) and insulting her general appearance (“Y’know, you were much sexier before Peralta dragged you down to his level of ugliness. Just make sure your ass doesn’t get as fat as his”). It’s around the time they make it back to the medicine aisle that he turns to making fun of Jake himself.

“I still can’t believe you’re with that loser,” he laughs as Amy finally swipes a bottle of Nyquil off a lower shelf. She stands up slowly, gripping the shelves above her firmly, as a wave of vertigo hits her once again. “You’re hot as shit usually - not right now, obviously - I bet you could sleep with any guy you want.”

She clenches her jaw and tries to calculate how long it’s been since she hung up with Jake.

“I bet the sex is really boring, too,” the Vulture continues. “I bet it’s all missionary and full of, like, eye-contact and shit. I bet he tells you he loves you because you don’t make fun of his tiny weiner.”

“Okay, y’know what?” She snaps, and suddenly her voice is half back. “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with missionary if you do it right. Secondly, you’re full of crap if you really think eye-contact is boring. Third, you’re right, he does tell me he loves me, because he actually loves me, you sexist pig. And fourth, he’s not tiny.”

“Whatever. He’s a joke, just like you, and I bet the sex sucks and you’re both so bad at it that you can’t even tell that it sucks.”

She knows people are staring, but her brain just isn’t functioning right. She yanks her phone out of her purse and quickly scrolls over to her list. “Jake’s the best sex I’ve ever had, okay? In fact, he’s so good that I made a list!” She shoves her phone in his face and scrolls quickly, grinning in manic triumph at the dumbfounded look on his face. “I made a list of all the things I want to do with him because he’s so unbelievably good. You wish you were as good as him.”

He is, for once, speechless. Amy locks her phone and steps back, smug grin on her face. The Vulture’s eyes flicker to something over her shoulder and she sees the spark of recognition in his face; when she turns, she feels her stomach drop down to her toes.

Jake’s standing at the end of the aisle, looking just as dumbstruck as the Vulture. She gasps, and the sound comes out like a ragged squeak. His mouth is hanging open but his brows draw together at the sound.

“Ja- Jake,” she says hoarsely.

This seems to snap him out of his stupor. His mouth snaps closed and he immediately begins striding down the aisle toward her and there’s something new in his eyes - smug and barely-contained glee, maybe - when he throws his arm around her shoulders. “Hi, honey,” he says, laying a kiss against her temple and pulling the bottle of Nyquil from her grasp. “Let’s get you back in bed.”

“Yeah, well, you’re both a couple of losers!” The Vulture shouts after them. Jake twists around and flashes his middle finger at him and grins into Amy’s hair at the sound of his splutters. “I’m buying thirty-five boxes of condoms!”

“You’re amazing.” Jake murmurs once they’re outside of the store. “But next time, just call me instead of trying to go get stuff on your own. I really don’t mind doing it for you. That’s what boyfriends are for.”

She sinks into the passenger’s seat of his car and sighs in relief; her body is already aching from the exertion of just a lap around the bodega. She feels Jake slide in on the driver’s side, feels the engine roar to life beneath her and the air conditioner tickle across her face. The car lurches a little when he puts it in drive and then his free hand finds hers and interlaces their fingers.

“I’m sorry about…that.” She whispers once he’s pulled away from the curb.

“It’s fine, but I really mean it about calling me next time, okay? ‘Specially since you almost fainted this morning and everything, like, what would’ve happened if you’d fallen and hit your head and they took you to the hospital? They would’ve called Manny and it would’ve taken him three hours to get here and -”

“Wait, no, they’d call you,” she interrupts. “Manny’s not my emergency contact anymore. You are.”

He turns his head toward her and stares.

“I changed it two years ago, Peralta. Way before we started dating. I just figured, y’know, since you’re my partner and everything, you’d be able to get there the fastest. And, besides, that’s not even what I was talking about. I meant…the stuff I said to the Vulture. The list.”

“Oh,” he shrugs. “I don’t really care. The guy’s an ass. I could hear him yelling all the way from the front doors. Besides, you weren’t lying.”

He squeezes her hand a few times in quick succession and she snorts. “So you’re…not mad? About any of it?”

“I’m more curious than anything else. Do I get to look at the list, too? Or is that just between you and the Vulture?”

“I can’t stand you.”

She does let him see it once they’re back to her place. He reads each item carefully three times over without ever saying a word, and then stands and grabs his laptop and a notepad off of her dining room table. When she asks what he’s doing, he responds with a muttered “research” and then promptly tells her to finish her soup.

The night passes in a haze that has nothing to do with the cold or the soup or the medicine, and the next morning she wakes to the sounds of Jake’s congested voice explaining through chest-rumbling coughs that neither he nor Amy would be making it into work that day.

[therandomfics]

Strangers Pt 2

Dominick, also known as isirac, had become quite the interesting individual. He was in his 30′s, worked for the city, and was a family oriented kind of person. He was charming, polite, handsome, and articulate. He was you, but with male genitalia. That’s why he was such a person of interest - but not for your case, for you. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, you’d met up with BHUNT03, Brendon, and were absolutely flabbergasted by the fact that one person could be so in love with their own existence. 

“Yeah, I’ve been here a little while and it just isn’t really my speed,” Brendon had said over dinner. He’d chosen a place that screamed tourist, but you didn’t want to be rude and mention that you’d lived here long enough not to enjoy the cheap thrills of I <3 NY on everything. Plus, as you’d told him several times in the past two weeks, you were from Boston. 

You’d nodded and tried to stomach the idea of anyone wanting to actually be with this guy. “Maybe you should move back to Austin?” you had suggested - harmless, but apparently offensive. 

He scoffed. “See that’s what’s wrong with all of you women up here. You all think you’re hot shit, like you’re better than someone else based on their accent or their hometown. It’s no wonder you’re 30 and single.” 

“Right. You’re 34, correct? 34 and single, and in a city that you hate. Must be a dream come true.” You had excused yourself a few moments later and left. Brendon was a prime suspect for your case now, with all of his pent up anger and lack of respect. Interesting. 

That night you went home and got on your computer to message Dominick. 

Omg.. I just had the worst date of my life. Pretty sure if I hadn’t be vigilant he would have tried to off me in the parking lot. Tell me you’re having better luck? 

isirac: Hell no. The girl I keep trying to take out on a date can’t be bothered with me. 

Surely not. Look at you, Dominick. You’re handsome and smart! Who could say no to you?

isirac: Well then let me take you out, Y/N. I won’t be conventional. Meet me for breakfast in the morning? I have to go in at 8, school starts at 8... so, 6? 

He’d remembered your lie about being a teacher. But, also, he was asking you out, and you thought you might actually like him, so the lying bit was a lot more difficult suddenly. 

Sure! Here’s my number. Text me, and we’ll plan a place to meet up, okay? 

Your phone lit up only a few minutes later. 

Dominick: How about Al Cappucino’s? 

You: Sounds good. I’ll make sure I wear a red sweater so you notice me. 

Dominick: I scarcely believe I’d miss you. 

You: See you in the morning. :) 

Who could sleep? You stayed up that night sorting through the wild abandon of Meet and Mingle, wondering how some of these men were raised, how many of them were predators in the making, and how many of them might actually not be looking for romance at all. 

When you arrived that morning at Al’s, you took a deep breath and walked inside. There he was, sharp as he could be in a pressed suit leaning against the coffee bar. Good. God. He was even more attractive in person and that was no small feat. 

“Hey, Dominick,” you called out, offering him a small wave. 

“Y/N! You didn’t blow me off! I’m shocked,” he laughed, and greeted you with a polite but warm hug. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honestly.” 

“Let’s sit.” 

You sat down across from him and studied his face for a long moment, taking in the softness of his eyes and the way that his hair was perfectly coiffed. His suit was well tailored and you couldn’t help but notice that he was noticing you, too. 

“I feel like I’ve known you for a long time,” you confessed and felt your cheeks growing red. What were you doing? This was an UC operation. You don’t fall for the potential suspects. 

He didn’t miss a beat or alienate you. “I feel the same way. You’re just really easy to talk to, and honestly after some of the things I see at work, I just want someone that I can have an honest conversation with, y’know?” 

In between bites of the food that you’d ordered, you learned that Dominick had been a life long resident of New York, was a huge fan of anything to do with New York sports, he was Catholic, he was an uncle, he was passionate about his work, and he was really, really smart. Apparently he’d wrapped up law school and was teetering on the fence between his current job, and moving on to practice law. 

“You’re impressive,” you commented, that same blush appearing on his face. “You make me look pretty lame. I teach US History and Political Systems at a school in Brooklyn. Kids these days are pretty.. what do they say, savage? They make me feel old. But, that’s besides the point. I want to know when we’re gonna go see a game together.” 

The clock struck 7:15 and you both sighed. It was time to part ways and head to work. He would go to his job with the city, and you’d go to Brooklyn SVU - or, Millennium High School, whichever. You both stood and walked to the door together, out onto the sidewalk where the city that never slept was waking up from a cat nap. 

“Call me sometime? Sooner rather than later,” he suggested, and opened his arms to you. 

You stepped into the hug and lingered there for a moment. It felt so wonderful to have the touch of another human being; one that wasn’t trying to hit you for arresting them. “I will. But, the phone goes both ways,” you reminded him and pulled away. “See you soon, I hope.” 

“There’s this guy name Brendon Hunt, he’s 34 and works on Wall Street. He’s an asshole and I’m beginning to think a tyrannical misogynist. Look into him,” you said over the phone to TARU. Maybe he’s talked to someone else and they’re missing, or worse. He’s from Austin, TX from what he told me.” You hung up the phone and began scouring through your inbox again. One message stood out among the rest. 

quidproquo: You’re very pretty. Stop dating these jackasses in suits and talk to me instead. 

What makes you think I’m dating a jackass in a suit?

quidproquo: Because I saw you at 7AM. 

Saw me where? 

quidproquo: Al Cappucino’s. 

Your heart stopped for a moment and you grabbed your phone, making a quick call back to TARU. You gave them the user name and let them do their magic, hoping for a result. On the other end of the phone you heard the clicking and typing of the agent trying to find a result for you, but they seemed to be finding nothing but dead ends. 

“It’s coming from an Internet Cafe in Queens.” 

“I haven’t been to Queens in fucking ages,” you grumbled. “Okay. Alright, thank you. If you find anything else out, let me know please. Thank you, again.” 

Hiding out in Queens? What a shame, I heard that place is a slum. 

quidproquo is not receiving messages at this time. 

You tried to click on his profile, but it was suddenly deleted. You screen shot the messages and emailed them to yourself, copying Captain Walker, before shutting your laptop and taking a step back to clear your head. Maybe it was Brendon? Maybe he was mad that you’d gone out with someone else so quickly - but, then why would he be following you? Unless, of course, he had hacked into your profile, which wouldn’t be too surprising if he was as crazy as you suspected. 

Against your better judgement, you opened your laptop back up and went to your inbox again. You had three new messages waiting for you from the past two days, and you knew it was important to keep going until you found the person you were looking for. 

bklawyer06: Sorry you’re so lonely. New York isn’t for everyone, but it looks like we both live in Brooklyn so maybe sometime we’ll run into one another. Maybe sooner rather than later. 

You’re sweet to say that, thank you. Yes, it is pretty lonely but, I can’t imagine why you’d be lonely. A single lawyer in Brooklyn? You’re like a unicorn. 

bklawyer06: Hahaha yeah i guess so but that’s because my office is in Manhattan and the girls there really aren’t my type. All i see are courtrooms, clients, and pretentious women who wear knock off YSL like no one knows. Gotta love Manhattan. 

Lol I feel you there. I avoid the place if I can, really, which is easy bc I work and live here in Brooklyn. Easy commute, too!

B: What do you do, if you don’t mind that I ask? 

I teach US History at Millennium. 

I graduated from MBHS. Does Mrs. Frazier still work in the front office? 

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to ask those kinds of questions. After a quick google search, you found that she had retired last year. 

No, she retired, but it’s a small world isn’t it? I bet we’ve passed by one another before and didn’t even realize. 

B: Next time you pass me by, let me know. You look pretty hot in your pictures so I’d like to see the real thing some time. 

The day’s early. I was planning on going for a run later, maybe you’ll be out? Brooklyn’s kind of large, though. 

B: Take a run through Bennett Field. I was gonna take my dog out around 6. Oh, my name is Daniel. 

Okay, I’ll look for a cute guy with a dog. That’s like, impossible to find. I’m Y/N. See you in a while. 

Did you usually run? No. Were you going to tonight? No, you’d probably jog into the open area of Bennett Field and then stop. It wasn’t that you weren’t in shape, but usually you ran to chase someone down, and you hoped it wouldn’t be that way tonight. You holstered your service weapon in your shoulder harness and slipped your jacket over it, concealing your real reason for the visit, and headed out the door. 

When you arrived, you slowed your pace and jogged idly around the park for about ten minutes before you saw a some-what familiar face. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out, his dog jumping wildly in excitement. 

“Hey, Daniel. Nice to see you in person.” You stood a few feet away from him and crouched down to invite his dog over. “Who’s this?” 

“That’s Molly. She loves new people,” he commented and let his eyes wander up and down your body. “You’re prettier in person.” 

You laughed and stood up. “Thanks. I guess I can’t say you’re pretty because that’s too feminine but, you are attractive. Molly, though, is totally gorgeous.” 

Daniel was nice, you decided, although a little forward. It was obvious that he was nervous and wanted to make a good impression somehow, and you just didn’t have the ability to tell him it wasn’t worth the anxiety. He practiced Family Law - he was a divorce lawyer - and had been for two years. He graduated from Baylor and moved back home after college. You made up your story as you went and tried to remember key details of your facade. It went well, and he asked to see you again. 

“Yeah, that would be great,” you agreed. “Should we.. trade numbers?” 

He nodded enthusiastically and handed you his phone. “Put your number in.” 

As you pretended to type, you quickly pulled up his contacts list and looked for the names of the two girls you’d found weeks before. No luck. You typed your number in and handed the phone back. “I’ve gotta get back, but text me sometime and we can get together. Maybe something more formal.” 

After you got back home and showered, you checked your phone to see if you had any news from TARU. You didn’t, but you did have a new text from Dominick. 

D: How was your day? 

You: Hey. I was just thinking about you. It was good, can’t complain much. You?

D: Not bad. I just got home a little while ago. Cleaned up and ready for bed. Is 9PM too early for bed? 

You: Absolutely not. My bedtime is 9:30, don’t feel bad. 

D: What are you doing this weekend? 

You: Grading papers, wishing I had won the lottery. What’s up?

D: Idk nothing, I just wanted to see you. 

You: Okay. :) I think we can make that work. 

You wanted to tell him about your mysterious message from earlier but you knew that it would raise red flags. Why would anyone stalk a teacher? Plus you didn’t want to alarm him, either. Maybe it was just someone being an asshole. You’d find out more tomorrow, hopefully. 

[seasidetae]

10 more minutes.

Pairing: taehyung x reader 

Genre: fluff, one shot, tiny smut (does it even count? lol) 

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n:  just felt like writing a little cute one shot because i’ve been gone for a while and taehyung looks so cute yet hot in the morning.. i don’t even know how he does it, he’s not human or something bc look at him. thanks for sticking around and thank you so much for reading :) 

“Lay with me a bit longer.” You hear Taehyung mumble behind you in his groggy morning voice. He stretches out his arm and grabs your t-shirt then tugs it gently. You were sitting at the edge of the bed staring at the time on the clock realizing you had overslept yet again. You could hear the noise of traffic down below and the chirping songs of the early birds outside your window. This morning you weren’t alone. 

It was funny and adorable how quickly Tae realized you weren’t by his side or in his arms anymore. You turn around and smile at him. His eyes were closed and his mouth was bent into a frown his long body sprawled out under the covers now in the spot where you were once laying. Taehyung wasn’t a morning person and he was usually a heavy sleeper but this past week he had been waking up every morning begging you to not go like a child. He was still tugging on your shirt half awake half asleep. 

“I gotta go, you may be on a break but not me Tae, I still have work like a regular person.” You tease and grab his hand that was holding your shirt. He now opens his eyes and his frown only got bigger. 

He clears his throat before speaking. “A regular person would lay in bed with their lover who they barely see and call out sick from work.” With those words he closes his eyes lets go of your hand and grabs a pillow to latch himself onto. He was using the guilt trick on you and with him it always worked. 

A laugh escapes your lips and you throw yourself beside him, a grin appears on his face and he throws the pillow to the side only to replace you in his arms. He was so warm and soft, he held you tightly against him as if you were some stuffed animal, your face was pressed against his bare chest and you could barely breathe. Not a word from him, he was back asleep in a minute and if you tried to release his hold on you there was no doubt he’d wake up again. 

You pull back ever so slightly just to get a look at him, you adored the way his lips automatically made a pout when he was sleeping and the way his brown hair sprawled out on his pillow some strands there and others in his face. 

“Tae.” You whisper softly. 

“Hmm?” He answers back. 

“You need to let me go.”

He shakes his head. “Never.” You feel his grip on you tighten and you smile to yourself feeling your heart flutter at his words. Even half asleep he knew what to say.  

“If you want me to call out of work you have to let go.” You explain. 

Taehyung groans loudly but doesn't release his hold. Instead he lowers his head and places his soft lips on yours kissing you gently. Damn. There was no winning with this kid, you would rather stop breathing than stop kissing him. But he was the one who stopped, he still had his eyes shut when he pulled back. “Can I ask you something?” He questions, now sounding more awake than ever. 

You nod waiting for him to speak then realize he couldn’t see the nod. “Ask away.” 

“Theoretically speaking......If you were to become my wife.....Would that mean you’d stay with me in bed a bit longer every morning?” He says so casually. 

A gasp was all you managed to do, you stare at him with wide eyes waiting for him to open his or say something but he didn’t. There was a smile on his face but nothing else. Was he just teasing you, maybe he was so sleepy that he just randomly started to blurt out nonsense. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that, last time he talked about wanting to go to the zoo with you for about ten minutes. You sigh deeply and decide to play along. “This is all theoretical right?”

He nods a lazy nod. 

“Well...” You begin pretending to be in deep thought. “Becoming your wife doesn't change the fact that I’d still have to go to work. I mean how much longer are we talking about? Theoretically.” You tease thinking it was funny he used that word. 

“At least 10 minutes extra.” He answers without a second thought, his voice was not as groggy as before but still deep. 

“Gosh... I don’t think I could do that.. I mean I’d be extra late to work and then there’s traffic which would just make me even more late... I do need my breakfast also and my coffee...Waking up early wouldn’t help because I’d be extra tired throughout the day..” Your voice trails off and you press your lips together trying to contain a giggle from escaping. Taehyung no longer had a smile and somewhere throughout your speech he had opened his eyes. He was now staring at you with an unpleasant look on his face. 

“Why do you look so grumpy?” You giggle and give him a peck on the lips that he did not return. “This was all theoretical right?” 

Taehyung only glared at you not taking your amusement at this well. He sighs a deep tired sigh. “All I want is for you to stay in my arms a bit longer just 10 minutes, but I guess you can’t do that.” He lets you go and turns his entire body to face the other side, giving you his back. Was he really angry..? You were only playing along. 

“Tae...” You call out to him sadly and poke his back. “I thought we were joking around, look today I’ll call out-” 

You stop mid sentence because he was turning back to you. When he did he didn’t cuddle you, instead he stared at you with a serious determined look. “Close your eyes.” He orders.

Since you didn’t want him angry anymore you do as he says without a word. “Now tell me, does this change anything?” You open your eyes. He had his hand held out in front of you and held by tip of his fingers was a sliver ring with a beautiful white opal in the center.

No words could express what you were feeling. Was this really happening? You blink a couple times not realizing fresh tears had slid down your cheeks. Taehyung was proposing to you right here and now at 6am in your bed? Shouldn’t a part of you be angry.. he cant even get dow on one knee for you.. But no you couldn’t be mad, just staring at him with his ruffled hair and tired eyes a big adorable smirk on his handsome face. Taehyung didn’t need to get down on one knee, there was no need for that because no matter what way he asked you to be his you had already decided your answer long ago. You were about to speak but he intervenes. 

He closes his hand the beautiful ring no longer visible. “Jimin said this would be a good idea, I mean I’m the one who came up with the idea but he agreed. I only did this here because this one of my happiest moments with you. I know I’m always at practice or at concerts or at interviews but here, right here just this moment where I can be in bed with you. Where I wake up with you by my side or in my arms is the happiest moment of my entire life. Then I realized i want this moment forever.. I know it’s hard but we always work it out. So.... y/n, will you make me the happiest guy alive and marry me?” 

The answer was right there at the tip of your tongue ready to come out but instead all you managed to do was nod because that one word would come out as a sob. “Come here baby.” He says in a careful tone as if he was speaking to a child. Without hesitation you scoot closer to him until his arms engulfed you. 

Taehyung presses his lips on the top of your head. “I love you so much.” He whispers.

“I love you so much more.” You whisper back. Taehyung lifts your chin so you could face him. “What?” You croak blinking back fresh tears. He wipes them away and grins that boxy grin you loved so much. Was this guy really going to be your husband? This handsome dork who for some reason slept with all his jewelry on because he was too lazy to take it off before bed. It all felt so surreal, as if you were still in bed with him dreaming this whole thing. You were Kim Taehyungs fiancé. You heart swells up with happiness at the thought. 

“I think we should celebrate..”. He mumbles as he begins kissing your lips and makes his way to your neck. You giggle at the sensation and let his plump lips make their way down to your collar bone. His hands grab your waist and he groans at that fact that your shirt was in the way. He pulls it up over your head in seconds. You let out a slight moan when his hands grope your breast and his lips kiss them softly. At the sound of that Taehyung quickly adjusts himself on top of you, your hands search his warm chest greedily feeling his heartbeat grow more and more. 

There was nothing you wanted more than to get his boxers off but a tiny thought in the back of your head wasn't letting you concentrate. His heavy body was already pressed hard against yours and his hands were already sliding down your underwear. His lips found their way back to yours and he kissed you with more passion. “Taehyung.” You manage to sigh in between a kiss. He didn’t seem to hear you instead he took yours hands in his and placed them on his waist waiting for you to get those damn boxers off. 

“Wait wait wait.” You say loudly. Taehyung groans and lifts himself up a bit. He stares at you questioningly and also a bit disturbed that you had interrupted this moment. 

“I still have to call out of work.” You whisper shyly biting your lip. Taehyung lets out a deep chuckle and lets his body fall back on yours. He lowers himself to rest his head on your chest. 

“Hurry up and call because this isn’t going away anytime soon. I need to celebrate and sleep with my fiancé.” He murmurs placing a gentle kiss on your skin. 

You smile and run your hands through his dark hair thinking how funny it was that a person who wasn’t made for mornings could be so productive just to make you his... and make you lay with him 10 more minutes.